Giving It a Go

2005-01-24T21:32:00.000-05:00

Hey, Do Something Before Something Gets Done to You

2005-01-24T20:44:00.000-05:00

HRC | Amendment Reintroduction Demonstrates Allard and Allies Are Out-of-Touch with American Public

2005-01-17T18:25:00.000-05:00

One of the great misfortunes of history is that all too many individuals and institutions find themselves in a great period of change and yet fail to achieve the new attitudes and outlooks that the new situation demands. There is nothing more tragic than to sleep through a revolution. And there can be no gainsaying of the fact that a social revolution is taking place in our world today. -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; The Ware Lecture; 1966.

Learned at Moxie's site that the Lutheran Church has decided not to decide. Oh, that they would have an iota of the bravery their name should give them. A heartbreaking day. One always hopes that their parent will love them unconditionally and my spiritual parent does not. I'm grown up, I have options. My heart aches for the kids stuck in these places who feel that God doesn't love them and that their souls are dirty because of the way they're wired. I can't help but feel that these people of God must know they've made the most cowardly choice of all. That makes it even worse.

Pay Up

2005-01-16T14:11:00.000-05:00

Heartbroken in a landslide. No, after a few days of feeling pretty shitty, I'm ~~resigned~~ looking forward to another month of at home IUI with my potholder and sunglasses wearing love.

After this month we'll make an appointment with a specialist of some kind and probably continue trying for a couple months more while we wait for the appointment date. I just think it's odd that in the months we try I start spotting so early and the months we don't I don't.

I wonder if something is wrong. If I wasn't so worried that we were throwing good money after bad, I think I'd feel a lot better about it.

Nothing cute to say today. We heard a volley of gunshots as we were falling asleep last night and learned this morning someone had been shot a block from our house. Celebrated MLK's birthday in church and just felt so fucking sad about the state of things.

Do the Right Thing

2005-01-13T17:43:00.000-05:00

Thank God this is two days before my birthday. Because I intend to spend, spend, spend for my weekend. I suggest sending any money you save to tsunami relief efforts or your local public radio or the homeless guy on the street or whatever would make you feel great...

Hopeful Vs. Heartbroken

2005-01-11T21:59:00.000-05:00

One week post-insemination. Pain in my right side all day. Very little spotting this evening. Way too early to be my period. Just like last time we inseminated. And it didn't work.

In a few days a winner will be declared. I'm betting money on Heartbroken.

Every Flavored Bean

2005-01-10T21:37:00.000-05:00

I know that the two week wait is truly symptom-free. So, I make all kinds of vows that I will not get nutty during the post-insemination, not yet time to test phase. Then I totally get nutty. This morning I looked at the Q-tip ™ after cleaning my ears and wondered if more earwax than usual is a sign of pregnancy. Whaddya think?

Making a molehill out of a Mountain Man

2005-01-05T20:24:00.000-05:00

Well, the planets aligned, all my parts worked as designed, and we were able to perform two home ICI/IUI inseminations. Since there was no roadmap (and for all the money we spend, you'd think they'd provide one), we aren't entirely sure if we made it all the way through the cervix into my uterus or not.

Now, we wait. And wait. And hope. And knit. And long. And yearn. Oh, the endless yearning.

Done!

2004-12-31T11:44:00.000-05:00

I got the root canal this morning. They couldn't do the nitrous so I went with Valium. I did okay. I just cried a little in the chair, but I didn't freak out completely.

Not to brag about my accomplishments, but I made all of the arrangements all by myself.

You can't have her...

2004-12-29T21:54:00.000-05:00

First the good part of my day, I visited my PCP this morning about the never-ending early spotting last month, and she was very reassuring. She didn't even want to pursue additional labwork or anything. Just the ever-popular "relax". So Mountain Man's sperm arrived today. It's IUI this time. The doc says since it's IUI, just go ahead and have Jane insert a cath into the cervix. Excellent! A new reason to freak out. Adding a speculum and catheter to the potholder and sunglasses will certainly increase the excitement.

Now the terrible part. I have a massive dental phobia. In fact, phobia isn't a strong enough word. I am absolutely, completely and totally TERRIFIED of the dentist. Therefore, I procrastinate on visits and get to the point where only a root canal will do. I reached that point today. I sat, literally wringing my hands in the chair, and tried not to cry when my dentist told me that it's so bad, a specialist has to do the job. I can't even call to make the appointment. I'm going to make Jane pretend to be me. She'll have to score the drugs too.

My friend's friend (whom I've never met, and who happens to be a straight woman) has taken to shouting, "Where's my Jane?" across crowded bars while drunk.

I thought this was at least a little odd until I was telling friends at Christmas dinner about my newfound--but still profound and quite serious --infatuation with Minute Maid 5-calorie lemonade and said, "I love it so much that Jane has to go through Wendy's drive through every time she goes out".

"Oh," I thought, "So that's what she means."

I don't know where the drunk chick intends to get a Jane, but mine is NOT for sale. I'm keeping her.

Eat No Evil, Drink No Evil, Fuck No Evil

2004-12-24T14:04:00.000-05:00

We were at Mr. Deepness's basking in the glory of his new red leather couch when we heard a strange buzzing noise*.

"Sounds like someone's mixing up cookies," said I.

"Sounds like making margaritas," said Jane.

"Sounds like a vibrator," said Mr. Deepness.

God Bless Us Every One. May your holiday be filled with indulgence and moderation.

*It was my phone in the bottom of my purse on the hardwood floor.

Preadolescent Prescience

2004-12-20T20:24:00.000-05:00

When I was in middle school, I would stay overnight at my friend Lisa's house and for reasons that were then and are now a mystery to me, we would kiss the posters of TV stars that were hanging on her wall. Although I didn't then and do not now enjoy the taste of paper, I returned many times because I did enjoy the part where the lights went off and she laid in the top bunk and I laid in the bottom bunk and we talked about going to New York City and being cool when we grew up.

She varied between kissing Parker Stevenson, Leif Garrett and Sean Cassidy, but although I was a big Andy Gibb fan, I always, always, always made out with Dan Haggerty. Yes, indeedy folks, I repeatedly chose to fake kiss a 2-D Grizzly Addams, facial hair be damned.

Eventually the posters got white blank spaces where the mouths belonged, Lisa went to school and told everyone I was a "lezzie"(well before I knew), and the sleepovers stopped. Tonight, though, it all came full circle when Jane and I ordered two vials of the sperm of a man who says, "I used to think I wanted to grow up to be a mountain man".

Am I psychic or what???

Advice from a Distant Land

2004-12-12T08:44:00.000-05:00

So, let's say your lover/partner/girlfriend/wife/significant other has flown to Florida for a quick visit with her mother and her mother's fiancee. And let's say that her mother NEVER STOPS TALKING--sometimes repeating old stories, always in a free association monologue that leaves little room for response besides the occasional "uh-huh" or "yes". And let's say that your lover/partner/girlfriend/wife/significant other calls you and reports this and then says, "Do I do that to you, baby?"

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES answer, "Sometimes".

Because now not only is your lover/partner/girlfriend/wife/significant other trapped with her endlessly talking mother, she's obsessed with worrying that she is also becoming her.

Be home tomorrow!

Where's the beef?

2004-12-08T21:05:00.000-05:00

OH MY GOD! I am uber-fertile today, and we're taking a break. There is no justice.

Choosing Our Religion

2004-12-07T22:25:00.000-05:00

For a few years, I've been feeling like I needed to make some sort of spiritual connection. I wanted to feel a part of something larger. I wanted to feel the spark of connectedness.

Jane gets some of those needs met in her program of recovery, and we both get some in our chosen family, but I wanted church. Paganism hasn't really worked for me. We belonged to a naked, pagan camp for a few years, and while everyone was lovely, it just didn't fit. It was a little airy fairy for me. They did things like put some sparkly garbage around a tree and called it an altar. There was also too much drugs and alcohol around for our taste. But man can those motherfuckers build great big fires. I miss that.

We went to the Lutheran church of my childhood a few times. The neighborhood where I grew up is poverty-stricken and most of the folks in attendance were older and, truth be told, we just didn't have much in common. So, although it met our social justice needs, not so much for the sense of connection and community I was looking for.

This past Sunday we attended the service at our local Unitarian Church. I had been reluctant because it seemed more like a political movement. Jane had gone to a different church and found it to be just folks sitting around talking. This one wasn't like that and I have to say, it really worked for me. It had enough ritual in it to satisfy the need for it to be 'churchy'. It isn't teeny-tiny so they weren't pouncing on us in an attempt to recruit, but they were friendly. The people looked like feminists and hippies. The kids were cute and happy and the teens were hip.

I cried when they read the Unitarian principles during the service. I realized that it's important to me now that if we're going to join something we can't be fighting about queerness all of the time. Even in a supportive parish, you are aware that the official doctrine "hates the sin but loves the sinner" or some other bullshit. When I read this or this, I realize I want to be somewhere where I don't have to fight anyone and where everyone has my back all the way up the fucking ladder.

I dug it. And they sold pounds of organic coffee afterwards to raise money so all the hip kids can go to Boston and get whatever it is that Unitarians call confirmed. It was Hazlenut. Smooth and delicious.

You're a star in the face of the sky

2004-12-01T19:14:00.000-05:00

It's World AIDS Day.

Daniel had AIDS before it had a name. He was 17 when he got gay cancer. He was beautiful, funny, smart, sarcastic, slutty, a little mean and very, very young. He got to live in New York for a few years and he made the most of it. Then he got so tired that New York lost its appeal and just exhausted him. He came home, and his mom and I took care of him while he suffered. When you are young, your body can take a lot before it lets go. AIDS ravaged him. He was not quite 28 years old. I grew up in those few months, and Dan died.

At his request we covered his torso in rose petals at the funeral home. He wanted it to appear as though he was rising out of the casket, but I don't think it did. We played Joni Mitchell and Rickie Lee Jones at the grave.

I still miss him so much.

May he and all the dearly departed rest in peace.

Getting Medical on You

2004-11-30T13:11:00.000-05:00

I've had a cold for a few days, and my ass is dragging. I left work early yesterday and didn't bother going in at all today. So, I thought I'd answer Amanda's questions and take a nap.

I had an FSH test at 3 days post ovulation-- it was normal.

I've been treated for hypothyroidism for many years now. My recent labwork had a TSH of .99. I believe that 1.0 is ideal for conception so I felt good about that.

I'm not on any meds besides vitamins. I may talk to my doc about progesterone when I feel a little better.

We've only been trying for 3 months so I'm not too worried. (That's a lie. My nature is to worry incessantly. What I really mean, is that intellectually I know I shouldn't worry too much yet.) We'll try one more month and then probably call for an RE appointment. My PCP said that it would probably take a couple of months to get one so that would put us right at the 6 month mark.

I've been charting for 6 months though so I know something very unusual happened this month. Keep your fingers crossed for me in the New Year.

I need the break. Bruce Almighty had me crying my eyes out today.

Sweet Dreams!

We broke it. Now we have to buy it

2004-11-23T04:50:00.000-05:00

I have been 'spotting' for six days beginning several days earlier than expected. My temperature has not dropped. I am not pregnant. This is good news because with what is coming out of me, it would be some sort of mutant. I carefully monitored my cycles for 4 months before we started spending all of our money on trying to make a baby. NOTHING LIKE THIS WENT ON THEN.

Last month a yeast infection. This month the endless early, painful yuckiness. I've never been one of those dykes who felt this way, but I'm starting to think men are assholes.

I've got my finger on the pulse

2004-11-21T06:33:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning and this was on the cover of our local paper. Remember, you heard about it here first.

Apparently they're taking over

2004-11-19T21:28:00.000-05:00

When we visited San Francisco, the cab driver asked where we were from. When we said Pennsylvania, he asked if we were Amish. We are not. We explained that there really aren't very many Amish running around Pennsylvania.

We saw a movie the other night (Gypsy 83 - pretty delightful). The protagonists drive from Ohio to New York City. They pick up a hitchhiker and, of course, he's Amish. Jane, our friend Chuck, and I react like my dad watching Flashdance.

I get on my bus this morning. Four Amish people. In Pittsburgh. Riding public transportation in their Amish clothes with their Amish hair.

Something Else

2004-11-19T20:40:00.000-05:00

I am having a hard time posting because I'm starting my period, and I am very sad. It is too early which causes concern for future cycles. So all around blah. Nothing funny to say, so I will write something else.

Jane and I celebrated her birthday earlier this week by eating at an Ethiopian restaurant with a bunch of friends. Mmmmmm with the super yummy. I can't imagine loving anyone else the way I love her. An insignificant list of why:

She is totally hot. When she's driving (and especially if she's wearing her glasses), I can stare at her profile for hours.

She is safety girl. She follows all of her father's childhood instructions. Like she doesn't walk with her hands in her pockets, and she never parks facing the wrong way on a two way street.

She seems to find my oddness amusing. Like that I hate shit humor, but laugh EVERY time I hear the commercial for the super-duty pickup truck (I hear it as SUPER DOODY and imagine a turd in a cape). By the way, our local football team is doing well this season and they play this commercial twenty-five times a game.

She gets me. We come from the same working class background. We have the same politics. We laugh at the same things (except for that super-duty thing where mostly I laugh at it, and she laughs at me). We share an aesthetic.

She lets me read newspaper and magazine articles out loud to her. And blogs. Including mine.

She is neat. I am messy. She told me recently that when we moved in together, she decided in the interest of harmony she'd just learn to live with messy. Otherwise, she'd have to be mad at me all of the time and that wouldn't be a good life.

She almost never calls me by my name. She almost always calls me beautiful. Like this, "Hello, Beautiful" or "Where ya going, Beautiful" or "Come here, Beautiful".

She is going to make a wonderful co-mom. Or not. Either way, it is a great joy to get to spend my life with her.

She's a maniac, maniac oh oh oh

2004-11-10T19:27:00.000-05:00

When I was a teenager, the movie Flashdance came out. It was filmed in Pittsburgh during the period when all of the steel mills were closing so my family immediately rushed out to see something positive about our hometown. As you can imagine, every time footage of the city came onscreen we ooohed and ahhhed, "The museum" or "The rivers" or "Downtown". Our city looked great and it was a proud moment for us during a scary and sad time.

When we left, my mother said to my father the welder, "So, what did you think?"

He replied, "That is NOT how people weld. No one would think that's the right way to weld"

Fast Forward twenty-odd years

Jane and I watched Supersize Me this weekend. It's a great movie about fast food and obesity and health. These topics are pretty near to my heart given that I've had gastric bypass and all. We laughed and got frightened and had all the appropriate reactions to the director's very scary experience.

After it was over, I said to Jane the transplanted West Virginian, "So what did you think?"

She replied, "What happened to his accent? That is NOT how West Virginians talk. His mother talked like she was from Beckley, but he did not."

Hmmm, wonder what this means?

Mars/Venus: Not just for straight people anymore

2004-11-08T19:55:00.000-05:00

If we're riding down the road and the car gets quiet,

Jane is thinking: 'I wonder how they built that bridge?' OR 'How do we drain the water at camp?' OR 'How do we fix the electrical outlet in the kitchen?'*

I am thinking: 'What will I wear to work tomorrow?' OR 'I wonder how Linda's date went." OR 'Angelina Jolie is the hottest celebrity.'

Okay, it's possible that Jane shares that last thought. We are occasionally Venus/Venus y'know?

*In the interest of absolute accuracy, I confirmed with the butch in question that these are, in fact, actual thoughts had while driving.

My day.....Made

2004-11-08T19:50:00.000-05:00

Got home from camp. Logged on to my email. Ran through the house screaming out the windows*, "Jane. Jane. I got comments. From strangers."

*I didn't know if Jane was in the front or the back.

Month Of Jane

2004-11-08T19:43:00.000-05:00

Jane was born in November. Jane got sober in November. Therefore, this November Jane gets a home theater. She deserves it. And so much more.

Edited to add: I looked at the theater using the link, and when I scrolled down to the "People Who Bought This Often Buy..." section, the shit I bought was there. So what I thought were random and bizarre purchase couplings that people would never buy simultaneously are probably, in fact, real. Because, the other things I bought are a memory foam pillow and a stainless steel ring.

Eating Worms

2004-11-05T13:46:00.000-05:00

It sucks that he got elected, but it hurts to read that folks voted for him primarily due to morality rather than fears for their saftey.

There's been a lot of crying and gnashing of teeth in my house. Well, perhaps nobody actually gnashed, but Jane punched the dashboard yesterday while listening to NPR and thought she broke a knuckle. (The story was about black women who voted for Bush because they couldn't support gay rights)

It's unfathomable to me that my countrymen in 11 states (including Oregon!) don't want Jane and me to have the same rights as other committed adults.

When my father died, it was Jane's weekend to work and she could not get off. I spent each day at the funeral home with my estranged family and without her. It sucked. If we were married, she could have been with me, and they couldn't have stopped her. I can't imagine why someone in Oregon or Missouri or Utah would want me to be without my partner at the funeral home. I read something recently that described a type of person as the sort who would be disappointed to get to heaven and discover that everyone else was there too. It's so apt.

The good news is whether they like it or not 1 in 10 of their kids will be a fag or a dyke or a trannie or some other kind of queer. And we'll take them in and become their family and give them a home and the acceptance we all deserve. And these bigoted fucks will feel ashamed and question what they did wrong and every Sunday their fellow parishoners will look sideways at them with pity and contempt. While they're suffering, we'll be looking fabulous and dancing with their queer kids at the gay pride parade. On TV.

We got through two terms of Reagan at the onset of the AIDS crisis, we'll get through this.

.
.
.

Luckily, the sperm was ordered and paid for so we had to ignore the very dramatic "How do we bring a child into this?" feelings. Answer: They are breeding up a storm. We better do our part for the side of Peace, Justice and the American Way.

We're going with a different donor this time. I feel really good about him. He's dryly funny and smart. He has hazel eyes like Jane. I want this baby so bad, and I'm so scared at the same time. I'm afraid that I'm too old and waited too long. I guess we'll see.

I'm just grateful that I can stop obsessing about the election and resume my regularly scheduled obsessing about getting pregnant.

Read the last few paragraphs

2004-11-01T22:12:00.000-05:00

and I wasted all that birth control...: Home

and go cast your vote for Kerry in honor of Cecily and her twins. I'll be dedicating mine to them and only wish I could vote more than once. When you've done your part, come home and read the rest of her blog.

Empathy for the Devil

2004-10-28T17:59:00.000-04:00

"Treat yourself and everyone with ruthless compassion..." Sinead O'Connor

I've been thinking a lot about the nature of compassion and empathy lately. That makes me sound deeper than I actually am, the truth is I've had the concept of compassion shoved down my throat at every turn.

First, my friend Mr. Deepness described to me how he used to be able to effortlessly feel what another person was saying in a conversation, but lately he has to go out of the door, walk around the yard and peer through the window shade to get to the same level of empathy. "Either way," I responded, "either way". Mr. Deepness never fails to inspire.

Then, I read 'The Spiral Staircase' by Karen Armstrong. She pulls closer to a God she no longer believed existed by realizing that compassion is the common ground foundation for all religions and trying to ACT in a more compassionate way. I was weeping as I read the following passage:

Our task now is to mend our broken world; if religion cannot do that, it is worthless. And what our world needs now is not belief, not certainty, but compassionate action and practically expressed respect for the sacred value of all human beings, even our enemies.

Next there is the blogging world I'm lurking in obsessively. The community of 'bitter' infertility bloggers shatters me with their cynical yet clear-eyed and amazingly beautiful take on the world. Their grace (not to be confused with angel-winged perky acceptance) when confronted with shitty circumstances never fails to blow me out of the water. They are women who are truly journeying to places that no one would want to go with honesty and decency. I admire them so much.

Finally, there is this fucking election. I spend 50% of my time cursing folks who would vote for Bush's egomaniacal, nationalistic insanity, 45% of my time with hurt feelings that these people want to deny me and my partner a marriage, a baby, our love, sunshine, a place in heaven, etc. etc. and 5% of my time trying desperately to understand how they got that way. I want to decrease the 50% and increase the 5% because I believe that it's the only way to heal the deep ugly divide that separates this country. I know it has something to do with fear, but I can't figure out exactly what.

I heard a story on NPR (I think) about some research where when they took pictures of the brains of Kerry supporters while looking at images from 9/11, the part that is responsible for fear and compassion lit up like a Christmas Tree. When looking at the same images that part of the brains of Bush supporters remained dark. However, theirs looked like the Fourth of July when they were shown images of a Kerry election victory. Somehow, they see Bush as a protective, loving Daddy keeping them safe. Okay, I'm close to compassion here; I can feel it like a faint sweet taste on the edge of my tongue. It's flickering like the television used to do before cable when you sorta could see Keith Partridge through the whirling lines. Oh, I'm such a great example of understanding and empathy.

BUT then his stinking elitist smug-assed puky fuckwad assish SMIRK pops into my mind, and I just want to smack the shit out of the homophobic, wrong-voting assholes.

If I wasn't gay and he wasn't married....

2004-10-22T16:11:00.000-04:00

and I wasn't partnered (golly, gee I wish I could be married too)

Blurbomat No on 3

Inferiority Complex

2004-10-21T09:08:00.000-04:00

Given that I only have two readers (Hi, Linda! Hello, Honey!), it's probably quite silly to worry about this, but I'm afraid I just can't keep up in the writing department. There are SO many great blogs out there like: http://www.alittlepregnant.com/ or http://www.dooce.com/ or http://leerypolyp.blogs.com/ etc. etc.

Old conversation:
Me: Do I look fat in this?
Her: No. You look great.
Me: I don't think you really looked.
Her: I looked when you first walked out and thought you looked great.
Me: Do you think the girls at work will like it?

New conversation:
Me: Did you read my blog?
Her: Yes. It was good.
Me: Really? Are you sure? Was it funny?
Her: It was really funny.
Me: What part was funny?
Her: The part where you list all the things you took.
Me: Do you think people will think it's funny if they don't know me?

I think that the Internet is really helping me to grow as a person.

Phobic Homo

2004-10-19T08:21:00.000-04:00

I must admit that I have one phobia. I have a pathological fear of boredom. I am so not kidding about this. When we went to our camp this weekend, we left Friday evening to return Sunday afternoon. I took along:

1 Friend
3 Books
2 Knitting Projects
2 DVDs
5 Magazines

This is in addition to the 5 Horror movies I made Linda bring and the books and games that live there. Some of this is indicative of my addiction to the TIVO and the Internet. At camp, we get the network channels, but only CBS gets decent reception. We have no Internet connectivity at all. This is part of the point of the camp but scary nonetheless

I also took 5 books on our 4 day trip to New Orleans--3 from home and 2 I bought at the airport bookstore. The sick part is I knew full well that I would buy books at Faulkner House once we got there. But what if our flight got delayed or cancelled and we got stuck at the Charlotte airport, and I had (queue horror movie music) NOTHING TO READ. I had visions of a desperate visit to the Charlotte airport magazine shop and finding nothing but Southern Living magazine, romance novels and confederate history books. Please, Charlottarians do not be offended that I think your airport will have nothing anyone would want to read. Remember this is a phobia and not the workings of a rational mind.

I suppose if I saw a phobia shrink, I'd have to spend greater and greater amounts of time with nothing to do until I could handle boredom. I wonder exactly how that would work. You think there's a book I could buy to tell me?

Luck of the Irish

2004-10-18T06:30:00.000-04:00

Due to my first insemination, I got my first real yeast infection. Imagine my delight.

Same Old News

2004-10-14T14:31:00.000-04:00

I had a chance to be in the same setting with this person today.

Still stupid.

Sing It, Ray Charles

2004-10-14T06:25:00.000-04:00

Night time is the right time.

Doing The Deed

2004-10-13T19:49:00.000-04:00

Jane and I are trying to making a baby. By spending $550 a month, we can increase our chances from no way in hell because 2 girls can do pretty near anything they want to in this world, but they cannot make a baby percent to a whopping 18 percent.

Importantly, but perhaps not quite as importantly, it also has afforded us ample opportunities to play mad scientist. I perform experiments with my own body every day when I measure this, test that and "you want me to stick my fingers WHERE and examine WHAT?". Jane who generally gets to work in a laboratory rather than be one, plays mad scientist with the nitrogen tank the sperm arrives and is stored in.

While under normal circumstances, nothing is more erotic than Jane in t-shirt, potholder and sunglasses, today I just want to point out that I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON. I have had gyne exams that were hotter and much, much cheaper.

honey, i'm sorry. i love you more than pancakes, and i am an evening person

Pass the Dip

2004-10-12T09:39:00.000-04:00

I'm a starter not a finisher. I realize that if I don't post because I think there's nothing to say, my blog will die a slow and less than dignified death. So here I am saying nothing much.

I had gastric bypass surgery two years ago and have not gotten as skinny as some other folks I know who are post-op. This may be because of hypothyroidism or just my luck. Nonetheless, I'm trying WW w/ Jane mostly because it's a way of eating consciously which was one of my vows to myself when I had the surgery. We cooked together last night (usually Jane does the cooking), and it was really fun.

I have been unhappy with my weight my entire adult life--and most of my pre-adult life too--and I'm just tired of it. If we weren't meant to eat potato chips, then why the fuck do they taste so good?

The Incredible True Adventures of Two Fat Girls In Love

2004-10-11T17:30:00.000-04:00

How do I love thee

2004-10-10T13:19:00.000-04:00

We were on vacation in the Smoky Mountains last fall, and on the way home, Jane drove hours out of our way so that I could take this picture of a snake handling church in Jolo, West Virginia. She makes all my dreams come true.

5ive-Minute Stories

2004-10-10T13:02:00.000-04:00

5ive-Minute Stories

In which I write a story in 5 minutes (duh!) using the word "coated". Sadly defunct, but I may try to do this some other way, because I really enjoyed it.

I sat there stunned. My mouth was coated with the overly sweet taste of the frozen coffee drink, and I knew I would never visit Starbucks again. When she said, "I can't imagine seeing you every day for the rest of my life.", my stomach dropped to my knees.

I felt stupid mostly. The dumbest girl on earth. Since we'd moved in together, I'd woken up happy. My days were spent in a blind fog of daydreams about our life together. I imagined us remodeling, eating breakfast, vacationing.

How could I have snuggled my naked body next to hers night after night without knowing she didn't feel what I felt? How could she do this to me?

Safewording

2004-10-08T22:23:00.000-04:00

I'm turning off the television and joining Jane in the bed. Masochism is fine, wonderful even, but there must be limits. And I've reached mine.

Defining Masochism

2004-10-08T21:50:00.000-04:00

I'm watching the debate.

Doesn't she look great?

2004-10-08T06:33:00.000-04:00

In St, Augustine 2 years ago

Long May She Reign

2004-10-08T06:30:00.000-04:00

Today is my mother's birthday. She qualifies for senior citizen discounts and has for a while. When my great uncle died last year, my mother pointed out that she is now the oldest person in our family. This fact makes my breath hitch every time I consider it.

So far in her life, she has survived:

Leaving her house in a boat as a very young child during the largest flood Pittsburgh has ever seen.
The Depression.
The accidental drowning of her son.
A stillborn daughter.
The death of her first husband (my brothers' father).
The death of her brother.
Her surviving son serving in the Air Force during the Vietnam War.
A lesbian daughter.
A house fire.
The death of her second husband (my father).
Rheumatoid Arthritis.
And, just this year... not one, but two hurricanes directly hitting very near her mobile home.

Like I said, my brother Dale drowned. In Lake Erie. When he was just eight years old. Then her husband died too.

And here's the rest:

My mother barely survives her grief but manages to because she loves my brother and wants to take care of him. Eventually she meets and falls in love with my dad. They marry and have me. Seven years pass, they buy a summer cottage. Near a pond. And a creek. As we get older, my friends and I swim every sunny day from Memorial Day to Labor Day. My mother never shows her fear.

She is breezy like Monica.

"Be back at noon for lunch."
or
"Don't forget sunscreen."
or even
"Have a good time."

To understand how well hidden any hint of anxiety was, I'll tell you this unflattering thing about myself. Until a few years ago, it didn't OCCUR to me that it must have been frightening for her when I grabbed my beach towel and trotted off to spend the day swimming. When I asked her about it, she looked at me and said, "Yeah, it was pretty hard."

I wish nothing bad would ever happen to her again.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM.

The Eye of Duncan

2004-10-07T16:52:00.000-04:00

Always watching

Good News Bad News

2004-10-07T08:26:00.000-04:00

So there's this woman who always had this sour, cranky look on her face. Every time I saw her, I thought, "She is so miserable".

I had a chance to be in a group of people with her yesterday, and she was in charge so she talked a lot. Turns out the sullen face was a blank look. She's actually fairly pleasant.

But really stupid.

The Butch in Question

2004-10-06T22:28:00.000-04:00

Shyly Exhibiting

2004-10-06T20:27:00.000-04:00

My wonderful, amazing partner and I celebrated our 8th anniversary yesterday. We also began a Weight Watchers diet. The magic is now clearly sleight of hand rather than disappearing elephants. I like it better this way.

We just got back from our third trip to New Orleans. This time it gave us this:

Depending on whose version you like, we're either arguing (hers) or bickering (mine) because we're tired and hungry and have been walking and walking and walking and we were late for the movie so now we're walking again. We stop at a market on Dauphine for some sodas. The cashier is reading a dog-eared copy of The Good Earth and doesn't know it's on Oprah. Her hair is in Medusa twists and she has many tattoos. Because she keeps talking about books, we like her even though she has to ring us up 3 times because she keeps punching $1000 instead of $10 into the register and then doesn't know how much change to give us. It changes our night.

The next morning we're walking down Royal and our Medusa cashier is playing washboard in a street band with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. We are in love with her, ourselves, the city.

We play a game. Name ways New Orleans isn't Disneyland. There are the obvious ways -- better food, worse smells. We decide that the number one way New Orleans differs from Disneyland is that: You will get wet in ways you neither expect nor enjoy.

God, I love that fucking city.

I hope that when you visit me it is unexpected but still enjoyable.