Careful with that quilt, buddy. Also my wife.

In July, I'm going to get to see something I've wanted to see for years: the AIDS Quilt. When I saw that it was coming back to DC, I was thrilled.

What was even more thrilling? The opportunity to volunteer. Not only would I get to see the Quilt . . . I could touch it. I could help.

Excited, I volunteered to help set up. I told Curtis I was volunteering, and he asked what I was doing.

And with that, on the subject of mindful volunteering and avoiding nutjobs. . .

Sally: I wanted to be a Quilt Monitor, but I didn't think I would be able to on any days they would need me. So I signed up to set up.

Curtis: What's a Quilt Monitor?

Sally: You hang out around the quilt and make sure no one's hurting it, and--

Curtis: Don't do that. I don't want you to do that.

Sally: Why not? People could try to damage it, or steal it.

Curtis: There will be crazy people and homophobes out there, and I'm afraid they'll hurt or attack you, when you're just doing something good.

Sally: I'd be fine. There would be other people around. It wouldn't just be me alone with a giant quilt.

Curtis: No, I don't want you to do that. I'm afraid some crazy gay-basher will go after you, just to get to the quilt to damage it.

Sally: Well, there's more to the job. You're also there to give information, and you're on the lookout for people who are upset and overcome, to offer comfort and support.

Curtis: You'd be good at that, because you're a sweet baby. But I just don't want you to get hurt by some dumbass.

Sally: I'd be in the Smithsonian.

Curtis: Crazy people go to the Smithsonian every day. Please just set it up.

Sally: Okay. I don't think I can do it anyway.

Curtis: I just worry about you.

She looks so natural . . .

A Small Interlude, on the subject of my beauty rituals . . .

Jim: Come on, let's go.

Sally: Wait, I have to put on some makeup, so I don't look dead.

Jim: Really? I was always under the impression your makeup was meant to make you look MORE dead.

Her favorite words

On the subject of my mother worrying about my mental health . . .

"Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana plays in the background

Sally: This was another one of those songs that Mom was convinced would warp me.

Curtis: Looks like she was right.

Sally: To be fair, we don't know if it was this particular song that did it, or pretty much everything else I listened to that wasn't Johnny Mathis. She said it about Depeche Mode, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails, Lo Fidelity All-Stars, you name it, it was going to send me screaming down the road to perdition. Sometimes it was the words, sometimes just the music. "This is going to drive you completely insane," she'd say.

Curtis: Well, listening to it certainly didn't HELP you, did it? It's not like listening to any of them made you a mentally balanced upright citizen. Probably just the opposite.

Sally: True. I'm sure she'd love to know she's right. Again.

Curtis: Oh, she knows.

See this a lot, do you?

On violence against women:

While watching the most recent episode of L&O: SVU . . .

Curtis: Wow, you don't normally see women get punched in the stomach.

Sally: Um . . . where do you normally see women get punched?

Curtis: In the face.

Sally: What do you do while I'm not around?

Running, jumping, climbing trees

On the subject of exercise:

Curtis: There's a Parkour gym in Arlington.

Sally: Huh.

Curtis: Would you go to that?

Sally: Are you insane? I have enough trouble walking around on a normal day without breaking bones. I can't imagine how Parkour would be a good idea for someone who breaks her back falling down one step, or breaks a rib dancing in a gay bar.

Curtis: Yeah, I guess not. There's a Parkour meetup, too.

Sally: What would that entail? Running around, bouncing off of things?

Curtis: I suppose.

Sally: You know they're all going to be complete douches, too. So if I went, my practice of Parkour would quickly devolve into kickboxing, as I would end up beating half of them to death. But, hey, it's exercise.

Those eagles must have an awesome propaganda team

While watching a documentary about Alaskan wildlife . . .

Curtis: Look at all those bald eagles. Seriously, they're everywhere.

Sally: What? I thought those things were endangered.

Curtis: Apparently not.

Sally: Weird.

Curtis: I can't wait until Ron Paul wins, so I can start hunting bald eagles for sport and food.

Planning ahead

On the subject of one's demise, as we drive past a cemetery:

Sally: There are all these little marble benches over there. Are you going to have a little marble bench made for me when I die?

Curtis: No.

Sally: Well, what are you going to do?

Curtis: For what?

Sally: For me! When I die! What are you going to do?

Curtis: I don't know.

Sally: Well, you need to think about it. You need to throw me a big party when I'm dead, and you need to start working on this now, or you'll never get it done.

Curtis: I'll put Jim, or Carolyn, or Tracy, or someone in charge of it. I'll be too bereaved to plan your death party.

Sally: And by "bereaved," I'm assuming you mean "lazy."

Curtis: You got it. And make sure you tell them to remind  me to show up. That's what you were in charge of when you were alive, and once you're dead, I'll never remember to do anything social.

Sally: I'll also tell them to say "Is that what you're wearing? No, really" when they see you.

Curtis: It'll be just like when you were alive. Can you have them hang a sign like that on your casket?

Sally: Of course. But you can't put Carolyn in charge of my burial or anything. She'll have me taxidermied. Just the party.