Sunday, October 13, 2019

First Husband

Skylar likes introducing me to people as his "first husband."

He did this when we went to get our marriage license. He marched up to the county clerk and said, "excuse me. My first husband and I would like to get married."

Then he giggled to himself. This joke never stops being funny to him. 

At the end of our wedding he sighed, said he was tired, and then added, "but I'm glad we did this. It's really given me some great ideas for my next wedding."

Earlier this year a friend asked us if we think we'll ever have kids. Skylar responded, "yes. What about you, Eli? Do you think you'll ever have kids?"

Yesterday he asked me a lot of very specific questions about my life insurance policy. When I asked why he wanted to know, he just laughed and then changed the subject. 

Maybe I deserve all of this. He is still saved in my phone as "Skylar Tinder," after all.

Please enjoy some Strangerville (and get your tickets for November 8 Strangerville Live here):

Thursday, October 10, 2019

Cleavage

Guuuueeeeessss whaaaaaa-aaaaaat. 

(I sang the above in an opera voice because Sky and I just got back from the opera. When the show started he said there was something really familiar about it but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then halfway through he gasped and whispered, "Oh! They sound like your laugh!" And then he giggled to himself for several minutes. I still have no idea.)

But no, really. Guess what.

Strangerville Live is going to be on November 8 at 8:00 PM in Salt Lake City. 

We are moving to a new venue this time. It's called Kiln (located at Gateway, 26 S Rio Grande St Suite 2072). The venue is awesome and we are very glad to force you to locate a new spot. We went and met the people who run the place recently. I showed them my cleavage and then Meg showed them her cleavage and then Jolyn showed them her cleavage and basically all the cleavage canceled each other out so in short, they're still letting us come do our show in their space.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Power Tools

Skylar thinks my feet are disgusting. He's not wrong, but it's still rude of him to say.

He wants me to see "a specialist." He whispers those words when he says them, I suppose to express the gravity of the situation. When I once asked him what kind of specialist, he just said "anyone who can perform amputations."

My argument is that my feet are not abnormally gross. It's just that I run a lot, so they aren't pretty. Counterpoint from Skylar: "then why are the toenails *that color* and why is one, and only one of them, perpetually dry?"

I've gotten used to yelling "AGREE TO DISAGREE" as soon as he starts that sentence, which is often surprisingly enough to get him to stop pursuing the conversation for at least a day.

Look. I can't go see a specialist about the feet thing because this whole dynamic has given me my best bargaining chip for our ongoing general negotiations. When I want him to do something he really doesn't want to do, I can be like, "maybe if you do that I'll consider going to see someone about my feet . . ." and then he gets excited and does the thing and then I never follow through on my end of the bargain and it's really like a win/win situation for us, except where one of us repeatedly loses.

Sunday, October 6, 2019

Megemy

Meg wrote this article for The Beehive last week and I've been sharing it on the social medias because it's about ME and HOW BEAUTIFUL I AM so how could I resist, etc.

In all seriousness, it's one of the sweetest things anyone has ever written about/to me. Meg writes about the history of our frenimyship-become-friendship and what that has looked like to her during the years in which I came out and started courting* Skylar.

*I hate myself for saying "courting."

Meg likes to tell the story about when she approached me at a craft festival in Salt Lake City four or five years ago and yelled over blaring music that she wanted to collaborate on some projects with me. We had met once before at a storytelling show. I thought she was funny, and was flattered that she seemed to think I was, too.

Meg writes in the article about how we struggled to learn to work together as she became more involved in Strangerville, eventually taking over as cohost when Jolyn entered the Witness Protection Program to get away from me.

One of the most important things I've learned from working with Meg is how important it is for me to be willing to trust people I admire. I'm stubborn. I mean well, and I genuinely love the people in my life, but I struggle very much with change, especially when I feel like it's being thrust upon me.

Thursday, October 3, 2019

Wedding Photos

I'm just going to dump them on you all at once. Sorrynotsorry if this post breaks your entire computer.

All of the below photos of our wedding day (with the exception of the first one with Duncan in a tux) were taken by my very talented cousin Heather Wrigley.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Photos of People Having an Authentic Time at my Wedding

I'm going to give you a bunch of details about the wedding with some actual wedding photos, etc. in the coming days. But for now, I want to leave you with this gem.

In the chaos of the morning and the photos with family and friends, someone took my phone. I think it was in my pocket and it was suggested I remove it for the pictures. I don't remember, really. It was all a whirlwind.

At the end of the wedding, my friend Caitlin handed my phone to me, saying she had it for a few hours and "don't worry. I took lots of pictures of people having a very authentic time."

I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and took the phone. On the drive back to the house I started looking through the photos she captured and discovered, well . . .

Sunday, September 29, 2019

Vows. Alternative Title: Ugly-Crying in Front of a Lot of People

By Skylar

I put off writing these vows, because I felt so much pressure. I mean, this is a gay wedding: the masses expect at least one uncomfortable musical number. And I wanted these vows to be perfect for you. They needed to be a mixture of funny, sweet, charming, clever, but totally cool and chill, because, to me, you are the perfect mixture of funny, sweet, charming, clever and totally cool and chill. You are an amazing person who brings so much joy and happiness and princess tiaras and Uintah Hiking and trips and wonderful stories into the lives of those around you. You deserve only the best vows.

Unfortunately, I am far from a perfect man or the perfect vow writer. Just this morning actually, I left the stove on. Yesterday, I left the car running in an enclosed space. I may be trying to kill us.

Regardless, I realized all of that doesn’t matter, because even after you have had to turn off the sink, which I left running all night (AGAIN), you still think I am a wonderful person. Even after we fight over the amount of times I play Dungeons and Dragons, which to you should be zero, you still tell me through tears that I am perfect. To be fair, you have cried thinking too hard about the ending to It’s a Wonderful Life, so the bar is low. 

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

Objection

It just occurred to me that probably no one is going to object at my wedding this week.

I bet not one single person is going to emerge from the shadows wearing a jet black fedora, holding a staff, and shouting, "I cannot allow this to continue."

Probably no man who we previously thought was dead is even going to pop up, very much alive, at the last possible second to sabotage our merry pronouncements.

I'm almost positive no former lovers will have escaped from a rat-infested prison cell on the outskirts of a desert town in a part of the country where they still call flip flops "thongs" just in time to drop from a tree, a rattling chain strapped to his ankle, wailing from the heartache of unrequited love.

I'm not even counting on one gang riot to break out mere feet from the ceremony. Not even a small one, upset about the power consolidation of our pending union.

No dance offs.

No knife fights.

Not one group of kids and their dog pulling a mask off of wedding planner to reveal a villainous identity and pernicious plot involving bank heists and government corruption that goes all the way to the top.

Sunday, September 22, 2019

In 1968

This time in Strangerville, Salt Lake City will give you a giant flag to help you cross the street. And then a story about fixing up an old bicycle (written version below).
Story
In 1968, by Eli McCann
Production by Eli McCann & Meg Walter


*****
In 1968
by Eli McCann
Skylar just walked into the house. His face is red right now because he just climbed off of a bike. The bike was my dad’s a long time ago. He said he purchased it when he was younger than I am now, but that’s impossible because he has always been over 60.

My dad bought the bike as he was graduating high school in 1968. It cost him $400. I know those details, because he has made sure I’m clear about them the dozen times I’ve mentioned the bike to him in the last three years. He smiles when he says it, raising his eyebrows a little, and nodding. “$400,” he repeats, somehow emphasizing every syllable in perfect equality, “in 1968.”

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Silly to be Afraid

I'm getting married next week. That's really strange.

I started this blog in 2007. I did it to "house my thoughts, especially the strange ones."

I don't think I contemplated that this site would see me through what it's seen me through. Some college immaturity. Some law school immaturity. Some post law school immaturity.

I don't think I thought this site would acknowledge some of my fears. My loneliness. My confusion. My hope. My miracle.

I'm not sure I had any clue this site would know times when I thought I could never really be happy. Times when I thought no one could ever really understand me. Times when I thought there wasn't much hope.

I don't think when I created this site I had any idea I would one day have to grapple with whether or not to inform this site that I was different. That I would have to one day decide how to explain it. That I would have to hope the people who read this site wouldn't hate me for being whatever I was. Whatever I am.

But it happened. After years of terror, I did it. I told you that I was different, and that I decided that was ok. I told you that I found love. I told you I was happy. Many of you stayed and expressed your humanity. Many of you stayed and expressed your version of Christianity. That made a difference for me.