The party's over; it's time to call it a day. By the time these words hit your screens, the Oliver family, formerly of Florham Park, NJ, will be on their way to their new home in Portland, OR. It's basically an economic decision: The place where Neal works, Intel, shut down their operations in New Jersey and offered him the choice of staying employed with them either in Massachusetts or in Oregon. After lots of trips and lots of research, he and Kathe chose Portland -- in part because the school system will be the best they can find for Alex.

I can't say I've known Neal and Kathe all of their lives (unlike Alex, whom I've known since he first appeared). Our paths didn't cross until they moved to northern New Jersey from Michigan (via central New Jersey). We met at First Friday, an NNJ Mensa monthly dining event, some 20 years ago. I swept into the dining room wearing a long brown hooded cape, made for me by my then-partner Irwin, making an instant impression. Fortunately, we all got past that and became friends.

Many years later -- almost 13 years ago, now -- Irwin went into the hospital for the last time, suffering from complications of AIDS. Kathe was the first person I contacted, crying and babbling into the telephone, revealing at last the secret about Irwin's health that he asked me to keep.

Early the next morning -- about 1:00 a.m. -- the hospital phoned me to come over immediately. The first thing I did was call Neal and Kathe. All they wanted to know was when I would get to their place so they could come with me to the hospital. They stayed with me all that night and into the morning, right up until Irwin took his last breath and his heart stopped. I remember, right before the end, Kathy telling Irwin that he didn't have to worry, that she and Neal would look out for me. I remember Neal, the expert in so many languages, telling me during an earlier break what Irwin had been trying to say to me just hours before: "I love you." And I remember Neal's hand on my shoulder, feeling him cry after Irwin passed.

They were true to their word. Not a holiday went by, not an event passed, that they weren't there, inviting me to join them, providing an emotional foothold that I so desperately needed even while I was telling everyone I was all right. And as time passed and new loves entered my life, they were there, offering support and encouragement -- and criticism, when it was warranted.

And as time passed, and after many attempts they were delivered of Alexander, I was the one non-family member they allowed to visit the hospital. I quickly became Alex' "Uncle Allen", and I thoroughly spoiled him every chance I got. I got to watch him grow, precocious and loud and rambunctious, and I really don't think anyone loved him more than I, always excepting his proud and sometimes exasperated parents. And I finally fulfilled an early promise last month, taking him to see his first Broadway show, "The Lion King" -- and there's nothing like introducing someone to big-time professional eye-popping jaw-dropping live theatre.

I was the one that moved away first, down to central NJ. Only a short distance in terms of miles, but enough to reduce the times I could spend with them. And now it's their turn, moving themselves once more, 3000 miles away this time. The times we can meet now have dwindled to one: the Mensa Annual Gathering each July.

The old saying goes, "If you love something, let it go." I am letting go of good and close friends, who have been a large part of my life. I will miss them beyond words can tell. To quote one of Neal's favorite joke lines: "I won't say au revoir; I'll just say hors d'oeuvres." Dude.

Less panic than yesterday: I did some research and found that I could, if necessary, pay off the mortgage (with a little left over). Or, using the same amount of money, I can live for a year or so. That's one worry that's been tamped down for now.

I also have work options. Kelly Services asked for an updated copy of my resume, which I'll be sending them this afternoon. Or I could look for an entry job in event planning -- remember that course I just finished taking last month, in which I got an 'A' for my work? Or I can take my skills editing Challenge and see if I can apply them to the real world -- I was, a couple of years ago, in touch with an editor at New Jersey Monthly and she suggested that, if I was interested, I should send a resume, and that they could always use editors and proofreaders.

Or I could work for Disney. Remember that job fair that I went to last Monday morning? Well, seems like I can apply online for positions in Uncle Walt's far-flung empire. Or I could go back to Orlando and set up an appointment at the Casting Center. I can easily see myself behind the wheel of one of those trams that takes people to and from the parking lots!

So, taken all in all, life is just a bit less gloomy than it was yesterday afternoon.

And if all else fails, I hear Kinko's is hiring...

On the hunt again: I mentioned to Bill-the-Honeybear recently that it seemed to me my boss didn't want to communicate with me. He cancelled our usual Tuesday morning status meetings -- not all at once, but every week on Tuesday morning, about an hour prior to the meeting -- and wasn't looking to give me things to do. Still, as a consultant, you go with the flow; sometimes there's work, and sometimes there isn't.

About an hour ago, I got a call from my contact at Kelly Services. My current contract expires on June 29, and she told me that Ethicon, when asked, said they weren't renewing it.

It's not the first time I've been let go from a job. And God knows I'll have been here for 7 1/2 years of a six-month contract, with two different contracting firms. But the initial shock is still the initial shock.

I now have to start looking, at age 55, for a new job. Bill-the-Honeybear hasn't held in job in over 7 years himself, and he's never been inclined to actively look. Right now, I'm numb, I'm scared, I feel sick to my stomach. My boss -- how convenient is this? -- is in class all this week, and on vacation all next week. At least Kelly Services has asked me for an updated resume so they can start looking for another position for me.

But how am I going to pay my bills? How am I going to pay the mortgage on my house? How are we going to eat? What resources am I going to have to tap for money?

I just don't know.

How I spent my summer vacation, part 1: If you count Memorial Day as the "official" start of summer vacation, I spent it the first part of the evening at GAAMC, my local gay group here in New Jersey. GAAMC always holds a cookout on Memorial Day, and this year they had a pretty good turnout. As usual, I was working the front desk, but later in the evening I did Challenge stuffing -- that task where the newsletter is put in envelopes, and the envelopes are then labeled, stamped, and sealed. (Mailing occurs the next morning.)

Then Bill-the-Honeybear and I went home, and I was going to do a little packing for my trip to Disney World for Gay Day...until I ran my foot into a protruding corner in the bedroom, and my 4th and 5th toes, which used to look like this ll turned into this l/. We rushed to the local emergency room, where after about an hour a doctor came in, looked at it, took some X-rays, and pronounced my right little toe fractured. Now, they don't put it in a cast, and they don't have teeny tiny splints for toes, so the 4th and 5th toes were taped together -- the 4th toe acting as the splint -- gave me a pair of crutches and a prescription for percoset, and sent me home.

The next day I saw my regular doctor, who said I could use my lovely sturdy walking stick instead of the crutches, but otherwise confirmed all the emergency room doctor said to me.

Next stop, Orlando: I had my plane ticket, I had my room reservation, and since I was in no pain (this even without the percosets) I was off to Disney World. My doctor said I should rent a wheelchair, and WDW has these lovely little electric carts for rent, so I flew down on Thursday and by Friday was toodling around the parks like a pro. It doesn't hurt that the entrance lines for handicapped people -- and I qualified, being in one of those scooters -- are much shorter than those for the non-handicapped.

But then came Sunday, and a minor disaster. I was exiting the new boat ride in the Mexico pavilion at Epcot (and let me tell you, the new boat ride is only marginally better than the old boat ride, which was arguably the most boring ride in all of Disney World), riding my scooter through the handicapped exit gate. The scooter pushed the gate open, but as I was going through I didn't catch the gate in time, and its metal endpost rammed into my left knee -- leaving a bruise and an ache that even percoset couldn't completely get rid of. Still, I could move around (slower, yes, but still moving), so I finished up my day, went back to my room, and rested.

Monday, the plan took off an hour late, arrived about 20 minutes late; Bill-the-Honeybear picked me up, we had dinner, and went home. And that's my beginning-of-summer story...