I won't miss many things about Florida, but I will miss Big Mike. After a day spent roofing- which is, bar none, the most excruciating work I think I've ever done, like doing a handwalking marathon in 110 degree heat- I needed a couple beers. I gave Mike a call and he said he'd be over.

There was a two foot high pile of roof detritus- trusses and stuff- sitting in the firepit, all plywood and very dry pine, so I set fire to it and sat around for an hour or two. Mike eventually showed up with a couple beers.

It's odd that we're on more or less the same wavelength, tempermentally and otherwise. Big Mike is just absolutely huge. I'd guess he weighs around 400 pounds, and a large portion of that is muscle. Last night after I grabbed more wood for the fire he snapped an eight-foot long one by three plank with his bare hands. Men like that, the burly kind who Go Fishing Alone and stuff, don't usually like me, but a couple days ago he explained: he said that he has a really bad temper and gets easily discouraged and likes being around me because, he said, "I'll bet your life is shit, too, but you don't complain about it and you don't let stuff get you down like I do." Mike isn't generous with his compliments, so I was very flattered, and taken aback, because I've always seen myself as a chronic bitch. I myself enjoy Mike's company because he can lay claim to the world's largest store of song lyrics and movie quotes- I can barely name a song that he can't recite, and I've tried- and he's thoughtful, sort of bashfully friendly, and no-nonsense at the same time.

I was really pleased that he'd come over. It was late when he got there, and he's not usually a night owl, not much of one, anyway. He'd never seen my house. I want him to come up and visit once I'm in NYC, plus he's been in a slump, so friendly gestures are in order.

Mike's also a Republican, very sensible on most cultural issues and nutty on some others. He's nervous about gay marriage- despite having a lesbian sister who he cares about a lot- but thinks all other discrimination against gays in the public sphere, in the military, etc. should be ended. On the other hand, Mike thinks stem cell research should be stopped because "what're we going to do, just cure Alzheimer's and make sure all the baby boomers and shit can live another twenty years, running up the bill that you and me're going to have to pay? ...In my family, when your time's up, it's up. But then we all get cancer, so we're not really the best ones to be making decisions like that..."

We talked about abortion last night. I guess it was the six pack each of us had had. Normally we skirt the controversial stuff. I was surprised to find that Mike's pro-choice. "I think pulling a fetus out of the womb and opening up its skull with scissors and sucking its brains out with a little vacuum is fucking abhorrent," he said. "But you can't just eliminate the whole ticket because you don't like some of it. Women should be able to get abortions if they need to, and if that means partial-birth abortions have to be legal, then that's what has to happen. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, or something."

I admitted that I find D&E procedures pretty fucking gross myself, but that I get freaked out when they remove tumors on TV, so if my aesthetics were the guideline here, it'd be illegal for anyone to get a colonoscopy, too. I said I thought that sometimes you have to accept the ugly stuff in order to preserve a broader principle, and that doesn't make you a hypocrite.

(I just read an article about D&E operations this morning in this month's Harpers and I'd like to respond to it here but %%diary-pandionna%% wrote an entry about abortion a couple days ago, which I guess infuriated a few people, and her intelligence and sincerity are unmatched so I don't even have a chance. Plus, there's the whole Men-Making-A-Big-Deal-About-Things-That-Don't-Concern-Them thing. )

Anyway, this morning I woke up in nine kinds of pain from roofing. I have these huge red welts on my thumbs that're from blisters that formed and then popped while I was using the shovel. They're starting to scab over a tiny bit, which is going to make playing piano at band practice tonight an exercise in aspirin-popping and willpower.

Just before I ambled out to get some coffee this morning I pulled on the clothes I was wearing last night and they reeked of burnt pine. I almost wore the same clothes again because it's such a comforting smell, and I wish I could bottle it and take it with me for everyday use.