Sorry I've been MIA. I just got back from a work trip to lovely DC! Will update soon, y'all.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Image: Proud to be an American
Sorry I've been MIA. I just got back from a work trip to lovely DC! Will update soon, y'all.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Bad News/Good News
Bad news:
There was a 7 inch long hair the sandwich I had for lunch today.
Good news:
I'm the one who made my sandwich this morning.
There was a 7 inch long hair the sandwich I had for lunch today.
Good news:
I'm the one who made my sandwich this morning.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Family
T and I had a very late night last night hanging out with some friends in Holyoke. We had an amazing time, and the cherry on top was that we won the Pictionary game with both teams poised on the last square together. It came down to an all play, and T rocked the house and we won. For anyone who knows me, you know that I am not competitive at all. And winning a game doesn't increase the amount of fun I have. Oh, and I actually like losing and handle it well. Right.
I've been thinking a lot about family lately: my new wife, my sister as a mother, my mother as a grandmother, preparing to lose my last grandparent, two new brothers-in-law, reconnecting with a long lost cousin, another set of parents, planning a family of my own. I've also been thinking about friends as family, family of origin v. creating a family. When I was coming out, and as I've comforted friends who are coming out, there was a lot of time to think about people who are not related by blood, but for whom you have such unconditional love that you can't imagine they were not, in some former incarnation, your sister or brother. To those people, and to my family, I love you. Thank you. Endlessly.
To Mom and Dad, thank you for everything you've given me, even if what you gave me was not giving me the thing I thought I needed that I didn't actually need. For making me sit at the dining room table and do homework, and giving me chores. Thank you for all of the driving vacations we took as kids. Thank you for endless hours of sitting on the porch playing jumprope and eating homemade popsicles. Thank you for teaching me how to cook and love flowers and hard work and responsibility. Thank you for driving me to softball for ten years, and paying for college, and for the cross-country trip. Thank you for teaching me about Vietnam and taking me to tet celebrations. Thank you for the unfettered joy you show around H.
To S: Thank you for being my sister, my best friend like no other could be. Thank you for sharing a brain, for completing my sentences, for all the counsel. Thank you for being my go-to gal for opinions, ideas, thoughts. Thank you for the united front when were kids. Thank you for teaching me about feminism and love and forgiveness. Thank you for your wit, bringing D into our family, for your son. Thank you for the infinite hours we've spent laughing, crying, talking, chatting, being catty. Thank you for allowing me to see H being born. Thank you for opening your arms to T and letting me hog H in Florida. Thank you for making playing with Dad's army guys at 27 and 30 just as much fun as when we were 10. Thank you for teaching me to laugh until I cry.
To H: Thank you for teaching me how love can be so complicated and so simple at the same time. Thank you for teaching me about a depth of love I could not have fathomed before you came into this world, the kind of love that allows me to love others more deeply and freely. Thank you for letting me watch you discover things, or watch you fixate on the smallest, apparently most fascinating thing in the world. Thank you for your blue eyes, your laugh, your squeal, the mole on your arm. Thank you for making it through surgery like a rock star. Thank you for all of the million things I'll discover with you as you grow older.
To T: Thank you for your love. For holding me at night. For waking me up tenderly in the morning. Thank you for sharing your life with me, and inviting me to share mine. Thank you for househunting, cooking, vacationing, walking, lounging with me. Thank you for teaching me how to relax, how to trust, how to love someone so fully I almost burst. Thank you for squabbling with me, and helping me think through problems. Thank you for listening to me when I talk about my hardships and the other things I struggle with. Thank you for holding me and letting me cry when I found out my grandmother is dying. Thank you for waiting on the other side of the train tracks for me that day I came home to you. Thank you for always being there. For never checking out. For being steady and laughing.
For J: I'm not sure I tell you enough how much I love you. Being with you is like being with myself. I can share with you from the most unrestrained place of myself: give no context, background or story. You get it. Thank you for working hard, for your perspective, for allowing yourself to heal. Thank you for teaching me how to take care of myself, or at least try. Thank you for telling me I deserve things and taking good care of me. Thank you for allowing me to grow. Thank you for Lori McKenna, your chocolate chip cookies, and mix tapes. Thank you for making me laugh, especially at myself. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability with me, for letting me love you even when it's hard for you to do so, for your sarcasm. Thank you for how graceful you've been shouldering some of the most difficult things a person can face in this world. Thank you for appreciating this stage of the cocoon. Thank you for going to the prom with me my senior year, and for not allowing us to go tearing out of that parking lot together at the last moment. Thank you for letting my family accept you as our own. Thank you for trusting me.
Without all of you I would not be where I am in my life. I love you all.
I've been thinking a lot about family lately: my new wife, my sister as a mother, my mother as a grandmother, preparing to lose my last grandparent, two new brothers-in-law, reconnecting with a long lost cousin, another set of parents, planning a family of my own. I've also been thinking about friends as family, family of origin v. creating a family. When I was coming out, and as I've comforted friends who are coming out, there was a lot of time to think about people who are not related by blood, but for whom you have such unconditional love that you can't imagine they were not, in some former incarnation, your sister or brother. To those people, and to my family, I love you. Thank you. Endlessly.
To Mom and Dad, thank you for everything you've given me, even if what you gave me was not giving me the thing I thought I needed that I didn't actually need. For making me sit at the dining room table and do homework, and giving me chores. Thank you for all of the driving vacations we took as kids. Thank you for endless hours of sitting on the porch playing jumprope and eating homemade popsicles. Thank you for teaching me how to cook and love flowers and hard work and responsibility. Thank you for driving me to softball for ten years, and paying for college, and for the cross-country trip. Thank you for teaching me about Vietnam and taking me to tet celebrations. Thank you for the unfettered joy you show around H.
To S: Thank you for being my sister, my best friend like no other could be. Thank you for sharing a brain, for completing my sentences, for all the counsel. Thank you for being my go-to gal for opinions, ideas, thoughts. Thank you for the united front when were kids. Thank you for teaching me about feminism and love and forgiveness. Thank you for your wit, bringing D into our family, for your son. Thank you for the infinite hours we've spent laughing, crying, talking, chatting, being catty. Thank you for allowing me to see H being born. Thank you for opening your arms to T and letting me hog H in Florida. Thank you for making playing with Dad's army guys at 27 and 30 just as much fun as when we were 10. Thank you for teaching me to laugh until I cry.
To H: Thank you for teaching me how love can be so complicated and so simple at the same time. Thank you for teaching me about a depth of love I could not have fathomed before you came into this world, the kind of love that allows me to love others more deeply and freely. Thank you for letting me watch you discover things, or watch you fixate on the smallest, apparently most fascinating thing in the world. Thank you for your blue eyes, your laugh, your squeal, the mole on your arm. Thank you for making it through surgery like a rock star. Thank you for all of the million things I'll discover with you as you grow older.
To T: Thank you for your love. For holding me at night. For waking me up tenderly in the morning. Thank you for sharing your life with me, and inviting me to share mine. Thank you for househunting, cooking, vacationing, walking, lounging with me. Thank you for teaching me how to relax, how to trust, how to love someone so fully I almost burst. Thank you for squabbling with me, and helping me think through problems. Thank you for listening to me when I talk about my hardships and the other things I struggle with. Thank you for holding me and letting me cry when I found out my grandmother is dying. Thank you for waiting on the other side of the train tracks for me that day I came home to you. Thank you for always being there. For never checking out. For being steady and laughing.
For J: I'm not sure I tell you enough how much I love you. Being with you is like being with myself. I can share with you from the most unrestrained place of myself: give no context, background or story. You get it. Thank you for working hard, for your perspective, for allowing yourself to heal. Thank you for teaching me how to take care of myself, or at least try. Thank you for telling me I deserve things and taking good care of me. Thank you for allowing me to grow. Thank you for Lori McKenna, your chocolate chip cookies, and mix tapes. Thank you for making me laugh, especially at myself. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability with me, for letting me love you even when it's hard for you to do so, for your sarcasm. Thank you for how graceful you've been shouldering some of the most difficult things a person can face in this world. Thank you for appreciating this stage of the cocoon. Thank you for going to the prom with me my senior year, and for not allowing us to go tearing out of that parking lot together at the last moment. Thank you for letting my family accept you as our own. Thank you for trusting me.
Without all of you I would not be where I am in my life. I love you all.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
Bzzzzz!!
I submit, in my defense, that the spider was approximately 1.5 inches FROM MY FACE, and while I am totally cool with both spiders and the flinging of spiders when the spiders are at hip height or below, I am NOT cool with spiders, or the suggestion of flinging of spiders BY MY FACE. Certainly not while driving. I am always the inside-the-house flinger and the outside-the-house flinger, but NEVER the by-my-face flinger. Hell, yesterday I even repotted several plants while numerous wasps were circling around my head. And for any of you who knew me in my childhood, those who know I would stop wearing an article of clothing FOREVER if there was a bee on it when I took it down from drying outside, know that I can catch NO FLACK for my arachnophobic freak out.
Sorry, Joe Rogan. Fear evidently IS a factor for ME.
Sorry, Joe Rogan. Fear evidently IS a factor for ME.
Right now I hate ...
... RING TONES
... when people call me at work and leave messages that say, "Hi. This is First Name Last Name. My number is (XXX) 123-4567. Thanks." TELL ME WHY YOU'RE CALLING PEOPLE OR I CAN'T HELP YOU IN THE FASTEST WAY POSSIBLE.
... being at work when it is going to be in the mid-eighties most of the week
... not having my next vacation planned
... having a bad case of the Moooondays. Oh, and Moooondays.
... overhearing people humming. I think that's one of the more annoying things in the universe.
... going on one last work trip for the season in a week. Please, oh Gods of Work and Travel, I am ready to REST.
... when people call me at work and leave messages that say, "Hi. This is First Name Last Name. My number is (XXX) 123-4567" at a speed that is nearly impossible to discern at what number I should return their call. And then I have to listen to the message again. And maybe again. And I just don't have time to make up for other people's mistakes.
... that I feel the need to complain about my really nice life because I'm a selfish brat.
... when people call me at work and leave messages that say, "Hi. This is First Name Last Name. My number is (XXX) 123-4567. Thanks." TELL ME WHY YOU'RE CALLING PEOPLE OR I CAN'T HELP YOU IN THE FASTEST WAY POSSIBLE.
... being at work when it is going to be in the mid-eighties most of the week
... not having my next vacation planned
... having a bad case of the Moooondays. Oh, and Moooondays.
... overhearing people humming. I think that's one of the more annoying things in the universe.
... going on one last work trip for the season in a week. Please, oh Gods of Work and Travel, I am ready to REST.
... when people call me at work and leave messages that say, "Hi. This is First Name Last Name. My number is (XXX) 123-4567" at a speed that is nearly impossible to discern at what number I should return their call. And then I have to listen to the message again. And maybe again. And I just don't have time to make up for other people's mistakes.
... that I feel the need to complain about my really nice life because I'm a selfish brat.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
The final word on tandal
Dearest Brother-in-law:
This is the final word. I responded to someone the other day when they asked me how Florida was, while pointing at my foot, "It was great, very warm and sunny...I got a wicked tandal!" Pause. Blink. Pause. "Do you know what that means?"
Her response, "Yes, of course! It means you got a tan on your foot, in the shape of a sandal!"
So I've done some thinking, and I've decided, once more: I'M RIGHT. Here are my examples:
Grapermelon: Grape gum combined with watermelon
Webervations: Using the web to make a reservation
Guesstimate: Guessing an estimate
Tandal: tan from a sandal.
SUCK IT.
This is the final word. I responded to someone the other day when they asked me how Florida was, while pointing at my foot, "It was great, very warm and sunny...I got a wicked tandal!" Pause. Blink. Pause. "Do you know what that means?"
Her response, "Yes, of course! It means you got a tan on your foot, in the shape of a sandal!"
So I've done some thinking, and I've decided, once more: I'M RIGHT. Here are my examples:
Grapermelon: Grape gum combined with watermelon
Webervations: Using the web to make a reservation
Guesstimate: Guessing an estimate
Tandal: tan from a sandal.
SUCK IT.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Friday, April 08, 2005
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
What I mean when I say I hate America
Lately I've been on this kick. Every other phrase out of my mouth to T is, "You know why I hate America?" And then I proceed to give today's (or that minute's) rant. The answer to my frequently asked question varies greatly, and depends on my mood, mostly.
Now, please don't get me wrong. I LOVE AMERICA. I love that I have more liberties than pretty much any other human being on earth (though more Americans should work to provide those liberties to ALL people). I love the beautiful landscape and varied geography of the US. I love that I've had to privilege to be born, go to school, remain with my family, and work in the US. That I can earn money. That I've met people from all over the world because people from all over the world live and travel here. I love that there are truly good people who work on behalf of others. I love that I can worship in my church, freely and without fear. I love that I can sit here with a notebook sized computer on my lap and write leisurely about my own interests/irritations while watching the Amazing Race. There are a million reasons why I love America.
But I love America for all of the good reasons, and resent the bad things about this country. In a culture of choice, we often don't choose what is ethical, moral, or responsible. Not because we don't have the option or interest, but usally because we don't have to, because we're lazy, because we live in a culture of excess. We spend millions of dollars meddling in the choice to die peacefully, a choice that should be left between a woman, her doctors, and her husband. We preach a culture of freedom and liberty, yet disallow those in loving relationships to be married and have recognized families. We have children who die from lack of proper health care, are failed regularly by their schools, live in neighborhoods that are too dangerous to play on the front lawn -- all while multi-millionaire CEOs consider purchasing their next vacation home.
Those are the big things.
The small things that I hate are things that really just grate on my nerves. The most recent example is this. Yesterday, I went to the grocery store on my lunch break to pick up some milk and something for lunch. Two things. TWO THINGS. So I grabbed the things I needed and went to the self checkout. I scanned my trusty shopper's club card, the milk, my lunch, and paid with my debit card. I pressed all the necessary buttons, bagged up the groceries, and cashed out. Then it came. IT. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. sixteen. SIXTEEN INCHES OF RECEIPT. for TWO items. 16. sixteen. These are trees, here, people. LIVING THINGS. And, because I'm considerate of the earth, I recycle. Many do not. But 16 inches? People died today because American pharmaceutical companies don't make HIV medication available to people who cannot pay for it, and we're literally throwing money away on printing eight inches of receipt per item purchased in the supermarket. Is anyone else bothered by this?
So, yesterday, I hated America because I had a sixteen inch receipt for two items purchased at Stop and Shop.
I don't really have hate in my heart. I have hope. I hope that we can overcome all of our self interest, and envision and participate in a world that considers all people, the earth, and all of our futures. I think we can all contribute to changing how we regard our resources. I think it can start with something small, even by just refusing, or at least recycling, that first 16 inch receipt.
Now, please don't get me wrong. I LOVE AMERICA. I love that I have more liberties than pretty much any other human being on earth (though more Americans should work to provide those liberties to ALL people). I love the beautiful landscape and varied geography of the US. I love that I've had to privilege to be born, go to school, remain with my family, and work in the US. That I can earn money. That I've met people from all over the world because people from all over the world live and travel here. I love that there are truly good people who work on behalf of others. I love that I can worship in my church, freely and without fear. I love that I can sit here with a notebook sized computer on my lap and write leisurely about my own interests/irritations while watching the Amazing Race. There are a million reasons why I love America.
But I love America for all of the good reasons, and resent the bad things about this country. In a culture of choice, we often don't choose what is ethical, moral, or responsible. Not because we don't have the option or interest, but usally because we don't have to, because we're lazy, because we live in a culture of excess. We spend millions of dollars meddling in the choice to die peacefully, a choice that should be left between a woman, her doctors, and her husband. We preach a culture of freedom and liberty, yet disallow those in loving relationships to be married and have recognized families. We have children who die from lack of proper health care, are failed regularly by their schools, live in neighborhoods that are too dangerous to play on the front lawn -- all while multi-millionaire CEOs consider purchasing their next vacation home.
Those are the big things.
The small things that I hate are things that really just grate on my nerves. The most recent example is this. Yesterday, I went to the grocery store on my lunch break to pick up some milk and something for lunch. Two things. TWO THINGS. So I grabbed the things I needed and went to the self checkout. I scanned my trusty shopper's club card, the milk, my lunch, and paid with my debit card. I pressed all the necessary buttons, bagged up the groceries, and cashed out. Then it came. IT. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. sixteen. SIXTEEN INCHES OF RECEIPT. for TWO items. 16. sixteen. These are trees, here, people. LIVING THINGS. And, because I'm considerate of the earth, I recycle. Many do not. But 16 inches? People died today because American pharmaceutical companies don't make HIV medication available to people who cannot pay for it, and we're literally throwing money away on printing eight inches of receipt per item purchased in the supermarket. Is anyone else bothered by this?
So, yesterday, I hated America because I had a sixteen inch receipt for two items purchased at Stop and Shop.
I don't really have hate in my heart. I have hope. I hope that we can overcome all of our self interest, and envision and participate in a world that considers all people, the earth, and all of our futures. I think we can all contribute to changing how we regard our resources. I think it can start with something small, even by just refusing, or at least recycling, that first 16 inch receipt.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Crispies
I'm back! After March-the-month-of-whirlwind-vacations, I am home, feet planted firmly on the ground, not at all what-so-ever in any way-shape-or-form AIRBORNE. Oh My God. I will never fly again. Ever. Well, at least not until the end of the month...DC here I come. David, are you ready?
March roared in like a lion with me literally in the lion's den: the heart of all noise, commerce, bustle -- Times Square. A mere week after returning from NYC and a very looooong conference, I headed to Texas. You've seen the pics -- it's proof that I went AND survived. I even enjoyed myself, for God's sake! I got back from Texas on March 15, then on March 26, T and I went to FLA with my family. We got back the 30th. It was a fabulous trip, and I am tanned and happy and my core temperature is relatively normal. In fact, it's about 55 degrees out here right now, which means Spring, the sweet little lamb, is on its way. Thank God. 80 degrees and beach for five days certainly spoiled me.
Here are some totals from the month to consider:
Number of nights spent in places other than my home: 12
Number of hotels or guesthouses visited: 7
Number of single legs of flights taken: 8
Number of modes of transportation taken: 7
Number of different airports visited: 9
Number of cacti seen: too many to count
Number of miles driven: approx. 1,500
Number of times my heart jumped while watching Harrison: too many to count
Number of margaritas consumed: 3
Number of times stupid sucky people made themselves evident in airports or on streets: 9
Number of times I came out to Texans: 1
Number of times I had the opportunity to come out to Texans: 2
Number of shades darker my skin is after Texas and FLA: on a scale of 1 to 10, 6
Number of weekends free between now and this time next month: 4
Number of shows on TiVo that need watching: 9
Number of GIGS on my *new* iPod mini: 4.0
Number of GIGS used on my iPod: 3.85
Number of times I went back and forth deciding on the color before ordering my iPod mini: 6
Number of times I regret picking pink: 0
Number of days out of the year I miss being able to see my family whenever I want: 365
Number of days out of the year I am endlessly thankful for having T in my life: 365
Number of times I've scratched my boob in public because the peeling skin from a mild sunburn is eating my soul: 4
Number of times I've written the words number this post: 24
March roared in like a lion with me literally in the lion's den: the heart of all noise, commerce, bustle -- Times Square. A mere week after returning from NYC and a very looooong conference, I headed to Texas. You've seen the pics -- it's proof that I went AND survived. I even enjoyed myself, for God's sake! I got back from Texas on March 15, then on March 26, T and I went to FLA with my family. We got back the 30th. It was a fabulous trip, and I am tanned and happy and my core temperature is relatively normal. In fact, it's about 55 degrees out here right now, which means Spring, the sweet little lamb, is on its way. Thank God. 80 degrees and beach for five days certainly spoiled me.
Here are some totals from the month to consider:
Number of nights spent in places other than my home: 12
Number of hotels or guesthouses visited: 7
Number of single legs of flights taken: 8
Number of modes of transportation taken: 7
Number of different airports visited: 9
Number of cacti seen: too many to count
Number of miles driven: approx. 1,500
Number of times my heart jumped while watching Harrison: too many to count
Number of margaritas consumed: 3
Number of times stupid sucky people made themselves evident in airports or on streets: 9
Number of times I came out to Texans: 1
Number of times I had the opportunity to come out to Texans: 2
Number of shades darker my skin is after Texas and FLA: on a scale of 1 to 10, 6
Number of weekends free between now and this time next month: 4
Number of shows on TiVo that need watching: 9
Number of GIGS on my *new* iPod mini: 4.0
Number of GIGS used on my iPod: 3.85
Number of times I went back and forth deciding on the color before ordering my iPod mini: 6
Number of times I regret picking pink: 0
Number of days out of the year I miss being able to see my family whenever I want: 365
Number of days out of the year I am endlessly thankful for having T in my life: 365
Number of times I've scratched my boob in public because the peeling skin from a mild sunburn is eating my soul: 4
Number of times I've written the words number this post: 24
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