Dudley's Trip to the Game

Wendy plays softball on Monday evenings in the spring and early summer and sometimes in the fall. The Biohazards, of which she is but one, is her primary team this year. It's exercise, a social outlet, and she likes playing. Muchly. They play two games consecutively on game night. Slow pitch. Co-ed. Seven inning limit with a 10 run slaughter rule, which I think kicks in after the fifth inning. It's all about having fun. (As an aside, she's cute as hell in her softball uniform.)

The games are in the early evening and may as well be on the moon considering how long it takes to get from here to there during rush hour. But it's right near her office so it works out just fine for her. Last Monday were the final "late" night games starting at 8 and 9 pm. Since we could leave home after rush hour on the Beltway, Dudley and I decided to head up to lend our support and see our girl play ball.

As soon as I pulled out his harness (no collar for Dud, he pulls on the leash too much) he started going apeshit. This was expected. And there's nothing more amusing than a basset going apeshit. Unless you are trying to put his harness on of course. Then it's frustrating. He finally sat still long enough for me to put his clothes on and hook up his leash. Off we went. Cosi seemed a bit miffed at being left behind but Detail didn't seem to care. Dud had the back seat all to himself. At the ballfield, we perched on a hill on the first base side of the field. He was aware of Wendy out there playing first base and every time he heard her voice, he'd perk.

A perked basset hound is just about the cutest thing on the face of the earth. He sits up straight, gets an intense look on his face, his ears on high alert. He looks around purposefully to find the source of his perkiness and then stares intently. Cute. Really.

So the Biohazards didn't fare too well that evening. 0-2. The other team had some serious batters, including two guys that hit the ball over the fence three times. Geez. But Wendy played well and was happy to have us there. She kissed me in the parking lot in front of everyone. She kissed Dud too but the kiss I got was better.

Dudley was exhausted by the end of game 2 and slept in the back seat all the way home. It takes a lot of energy to perk, after all. Arriving home, he immediately dragged his tired self to the bed and didn't stir again until morning. It's a hard life, that of a basset.

Why?

Lemon I can understand, pepper even has an appeal. And the wonderful spiced stuff Caren concocts is awesome.
But is there really a market for this?

It's amazing....

... how a little ranting can help one feel so much lighter.

Or maybe it was the food. I know it was not alcohol-induced (it's much too early in the evening for that!). But it could have been the food.

Whatever it was. Writing or eating. It's all good.

Too Far Into My Head?

I've spent a great deal of time inside my head attempting to reconcile my feelings on the whole gay-rights-gay-marriage political mess and all the pieces of that puzzle that affect me and mine.

What sent me into my head this time around was a friend asking why I didn't get more involved and active in making change if I did not like what was happening.

Oh shit. Now there's a loaded question. Hit me hard and wrong and I immediately felt seriously strong resentment. And this was AFTER I had requested we not discuss politics because I was uncomfortable with the feelings I knew such discussion would inspire. The question was not posed maliciously, but rather innocently. And somehow that made it even worse.

While I've always been a take-care-of-things kind of gal, I do not want to have to take care of this. I do not want to have to become an activist and champion the cause of gay rights in America. I feel my life as I live it should champion the cause enough. It should be enough. But it's not. Because that's not the way things work. So I give money to organizations that support "our cause". I take time to know the politicians for whom I vote and take care to select those that support my own beliefs, or as a minimum compromise, those that are not blatantly anti-gay. I try to be a good American. No, I am a good American. And it's just not enough.

What I'm really wrestling with is my growing resentment of friends and family who say they disagree with how Virginia and current American political leadership are handling the whole gay marriage thing. These very folks, who are quite dear to me personally and declare that I am dear to them also, give lip service to how wrong it all is. They smile and nod sympathetically while continuing their lives status quo. Then they ask me why I don't do more. Or they ask when Wendy and I are going to get married. I'm like, WTF?!

But so what? Does it really matter? After all, there has always been room in my heart for people who feel differently than I. That's the beauty of life. That's the beauty of America. How boring it would be if we all felt the same. But I always thought, despite their differing political views, that I mattered to them. And things that affected me, their friend, mattered to them too. However I now cannot escape the reality of their duplicity. And it pisses me off.

Don't profess to be my friend if you continue to support those working to limit MY rights under our laws and our Constitution. You know who you are. I know who you are. You know who I am. I am a lesbian and you, through those whom you continue to support, are working feverishly to take away MY right to live free. And I'm not talking about the religious side of the issue because I respect your freedom of religious belief. I'm talking about American civil liberties. Unfortunately, the middle ground on which we both happily perched while our friendships developed is being eroded away by current events---driven by the very politicians you and yours continue to support.

I'm losing my objectivity. I may well be losing my friends. But really, how friendly are they if it's okay with them for me and other people like me to be relegated permanently into second class citizenship?

This is twisting my head and my heart. I know I should suck it up and quit feeling sorry for myself. But I'm not there yet because it hurts. Blech.

Priorities

"The sweetest part is acting after making a decision."

--ES

After our chat with The Boy the other day, we decided we are long overdue for a visit. It's far too easy to let daily life get in the way of what really matters. Work will be here when we return. The house project schedule will not suffer irreparably from a short delay. Our wonderful neighbor can be recruited to tend the animals for a day or two. It will do all of our hearts good.

So reservations have been made. Leave has been authorized. I'll take my own damned car to the Jiffy Lube for the preparatory oil change. Next week we shall head south and see The Boy in his summer environment! We'll buy him groceries (and toiletries I'm sure), meet his new friends, grimace at the state of his shared apartment, admire his tan, see him perform, feed him and then feed him again, and, most importantly, hug him as much as he'll tolerate.

And I'll not be the one to say "uncle" first, even if my ribs crack.

Virginia Laws

I grew up in the Commonwealth of Virginia. It's been my home since I was four years old. I love this state: the history, the geographic diversity, the peanuts, whatever. It's my home, after all. But I hate Virginia politics. It is impossible to live here and not be aware of how far right the politics are. However Northern Virginia, where we live, is more politically diverse than the rest of the state. Not that it makes that big a difference.

It's never been a good place to be gay. But is there really any place in America where it is good to be gay? One can look at the debates regarding gay marriage and civil unions and such and believe that change is happening in America. Being an eternal optimist, I'll even be so bold as to call it progress.

Virginia, however, is about to become the WORST place in America to be gay. We, as a Commonwealth, are moving backward. Our General Assembly in their infinite wisdom passed HR 751, The Affirmation of Marriage Act. It takes effect July 1.

It's not particularly surprising to me for Virginia to outlaw any form of civil union or partnership benefits between members of the same sex. Really not surprising at all. Virginia is a very conservative state. But this bill does more than just ban same sex unions or recognition of same sex unions from other states. Due to it's broad language, it can be interpreted to declare null and void ANY contractual agreements between members of the same sex---ANY legal agreements, including medical powers of attorney or contracts to share assets. Any contract between two members of the same sex can be called into question.

Talking Heads agree it is most likely unenforceable under Federal laws. Gee how special. But our Assembly in their infinite wisdom went ahead and passed it anyway. Surely Virginia taxpayers (of which I am one) won't mind their tax dollars spent to defend legal challenges to this law. After all, it's the principle of the thing isn't it? We Virginians are far too moral to ever allow such an atrocity as equal rights for all citizens in our state.

Why isn't being a good citizen enough? Why isn't being a good person enough? Why is it that paying taxes and voting and being a caring citizen and raising responsible children and being active in my community is not enough to afford my partner and I equal rights under and access to the law? I might even be satisfied just with the right to just be left alone. Okay, so don't allow gay marriage in Virginia. BUT DON'T TAKE AWAY RIGHTS GIVEN TO ANY OTHER VIRGINIAN JUST BECAUSE I HAPPEN TO SHARE MY LIFE WITH ANOTHER WOMAN.

I just don't get it and it makes me crazy to think about it. Just how un-American can Virginia become?

Connected

We were actually home when The Boy called yesterday. We had the long overdue relaxed catch-up-on-all-things-Greg-and-listen-to-his-adventures-and-update-him-on-us-and-home conversation.

I can't really describe the sense of peace I feel after chatting with him. And while I don't understand it fully, I'm embracing it like my long lost blankie. It's like a leak in my comfort bubble has been patched.

God bless Alexander Graham Bell.

Dream Oddness

We were out with our Maryland friends last night, celebrating birthdays from the month of June. One fellow turned 34 and the other 36. But that's not what I sat down to write about.

We arrived home rather late, like around 1:00am, then sat and messed around on our computers while winding down. It was around 2:00 when we finally headed for bed. I woke up this morning around 7:00 because Cosine was click-clicking around asking for something. So I blearily let them all out and back in, filled their food dishes and cocooned myself once again in the still warm sheets where my snuggly girlfriend still dozed.

And that's when I had this really weird dream. I was somewhere, still on earth but a part of earth I did not recognize. There were quite a few people with me, none that I knew except for my friend Tina. We preparing for a huge halloweenish type parade or something. Well we weren't in the parade, but we were part of the parade route. There was a long series of buildings that had lots of twists and turns and odd hallways with unusually shaped rooms.

We were working feverishly to put up decorations and other such party-like preparations all throughout the maze-like structure. Tina kept disappearing. As the time neared for the parade to approach, she came back with a bunch of new decorations and such which required all the work that had already been done to be re-done. And it had to be done her way. I remember feeling frustrated and a bit perturbed. She was quite excited and happy, either clueless to how I felt or choosing to ignore it. I'm not sure which.

Anyway, the parade came through and people were swarming all around enjoying the festivities. That's when I woke up.

No wonder I'm still tired. It's not that we stayed up way too late, rather that I spent several hours of what could have been restful sleep running around putting up party decorations one way and then re-doing them another way. It would exhaust me even further to attempt to analyze this dream, so I don't think I'll bother. I rarely do. Bother with dreams that is.

My power namely that is large!

I've been playing this computer game called Zuma. I like it because I can sit down and play a few rounds and then just get up and move along with my day. A quick fix, a coffee break.

It's kind of an Aztec theme, with ancient temples and such. The player (that would be me) is a frog in the middle of the screen and with a left-click I spit out balls of various colors. There is a track along which run other balls of various colors. The tracks change length and configuration depending on the level of play. Some of the tracks are pretty crazy, looping back and forth and going through tunnels. New colors of balls are added in as levels progress and the speed of the balls racing around the track increases. The object is to make chains of at least three balls of the same color. Toss in "special" balls: explosion, backward, accuracy, slowdown. Every so often a coin will appear off to the side and if I can hit it with a ball, I get extra points. Another object is to not let the balls reach the end of the path and get gobbled up by the Dreaded Gaping Mouth. Because then the game is lost. The gaping mouth is to be avoided at all costs.

And as a player advances deeper into the temple, the Zuma speaks:

As for me it is not possible to believe! Your power namely that is large! But there is one more temple which you do not find, that the Zuma deeply buried under the land. It was hidden. It is the Temple of Secret! You the final temple must fight in order to take the cover of position of my jail!

Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? My mind seeks a tenuous parallel between the game of Zuma and life. The object of Zuma is quite clear. The who what where when why and how are laid out in an orderly progression and one must but decide which colored ball to send in which direction while relying on instinct and reaction to succeed. Sometimes you make a good shot and other times it goes completely awry. Can you sense the parallel also or is it just me?

Wendy and I have side by side computers where we sit and each do whatever needs doing and/or whatever our desires decide needs doing and at times discuss whatever it is we are doing while we are doing it. Works for us.

Check Ups

Two pets visited the vet for check ups this week.

Figero's test results were again clean and he is now officially off steroids. No more medicinal dosing torture! We're supposed to keep a close eye on him and bring him back before we go on vacation at the end of next month for another test to ensure his blood continues to be parasite free. Easy enough.

Detail we took in just to have another set of eyes look him over. Because we see him day in and day out, it's difficult to be objective about how far he has deteriorated physically. He's lost another seven pounds since April and now weighs in at just over one half of his weight before he got sick. Yikes. He really IS just skin and bones. He doesn't eat his regular chow much anymore. He still drinks plenty of water and enjoys treats and human food, however. Of late, interaction with him has always been instigated by us which is evidently yet another sign of his decline. During our discussion with the vet, I was sitting on the floor and Detail climbed into my lap. He's so sweet, our skinny Fat Boy. We are his protectors. Made me feel guilty as we calmly and rationally discussed his fate. I think he may have known what we were saying. I hope he knows we love him.

We now have official medical authorization to feed him as many treats as he cares to have. Now all we have to do is find a discrete way to slip them to him so the other dogs don't demand treats of their own. They are already getting fat enough from eating his share of regular meals.

CWS

We've been watching bits and pieces of the College World Series this past week or so. I truly enjoy seeing non-professionals play the game, perhaps the stars of the future before they join the ranks of the highly paid professional players. And while it is baseball, even baseball in a purer form than professional, it is lacking a quality that to me makes baseball really baseball.

It's the sound when a bat makes contact with a ball. Oh sure, there is something to hear when the ball is hit. But in the CWS it's a "tink" rather than the ever-so-satisfying-wow-that-ball-is-going-somewhere "crack" of a wooden bat hitting the ball. It's those damned aluminum bats. Tink. Doesn't matter if the ball is sailing over the right field fence or dribbling down the third base line or finding the gap between left and center or just going foul. Tink. It's just wrong.

More Suburban Wildlife

This creature was resting on our back door. While I didn't put a ruler to it because I did NOT want to get close enough, Wendy did the math in relation to the width of the door and extrapolated its' wingspan: five inches!!

What does it eat? Where does it live? Does it have friends? Is it here on vacation? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Supermoth?


Whatever it is, I think it's pretty cool. As long as it keeps its' distance.

Blog Browsing

I've been poking around other people's blogs and every so often I find one that is worth taking the time to read. One has to wade through a lot of crap to find something good however. I've happened upon several references to lesbians without even specifically looking for them. These references aren't necessarily good or bad or even neutral. They just are. Well, some are good. Maybe even great. You can judge for yourself.

There's this person here, who believes there is an application process to join our ranks. That's an idea I'll put on par with a license to reproduce (something I've thought of often), but it's really not the most practical idea. After all, do we need more regulation? And heck, what if I applied and was rejected? Where the hell would I be then? She did, however, put together an interesting list of 10 reasons she should become a lesbian. She left the most important reason off her list. Anyone want to take a guess at what that may be?

Or this person here, who expresses concern because she heard the car she drives is a favorite ride of lesbians. Personally I don't know any lesbians who drive a CRV, but then again I've already admitted not knowing too many lesbians despite being one myself. And even if it is true, I wonder why it is a cause for distress?

Or here, where this woman doesn't want to "sound" like a lesbian. Worry not, bloggette. Admiring a woman's breasts could actually make you sound more like a man than a lesbian (not that lesbians don't admire other women's breasts... we do... well I do!). Neither comparison is anything to be feared.

I did come across this blog, a site I'll be keeping up with maybe out of jealousy or more likely to vicariously re-live my own parenting experiences and to savor the memories.

And then this woman wrote a touching tribute to her lesbian mother on Father's Day. Well it's not obvious her mother is a lesbian from that particular post, but that fact is documented as Number 4 on her 100 Things list.

I don't intend to ever specifically look for lesbian blogs. Sometimes it's more rewarding just to stumble around blindly.

Library Fines

It stands to reason as much as I love books and reading that the library would be a wondrous place to me. And it is! Oh how I love to go to the library! At least I used to. Before my late fees got out of control... again. How can I possibly owe the library over $80 in late fees? And truth be told, I've owed the library over $80 in late fees for well over a year now. Bah.

Not sure how it happened but it did. If I wasn't ashamed to admit it, I'd acknowledge it happened because I did not return my books on time. But $80 of not returning books on time? That them there represents A LOT of lateness! The same thing used to happen with video rentals (well not $80 worth, but consistent lateness), but now that we use Netflix we don't have that problem. Is there such a service for books? Maybe there should be.

Back when I was a child, every so often the library (the same library I go to now) would offer "Amnesty Day" when all fines were forgiven as long as the books had been returned. Ah the good old days. When I asked a librarian about that a while back, she looked down her nose at me and said "oh, we don't do that any more!" She was kind of snotty. No, actually she was really snotty. I personally think librarians should be open and friendly and welcoming.

I've made a recent resolution to pay off my fines this summer. I really want to go back and hover around the new releases shelves and peruse new offerings and try authors I've never read before. The other patrons sometimes offer up opinions that lead to interesting discussions about books they've already read. Then maybe I'll go back to the other shelves and wander up and down refreshing my memory of things I've read before and maybe even reading them again.

Am I too old to turn over a new leaf and be a more responsible library-book-checker-outer? I think not... I really want to try.

Maybe humans should try this.

"Glow" List

Okay so the whole "create a list of all the good things from the past year" idea isn't as easy as I thought it would be. Not that there is a lack of good things, because the year has had many bright spots. It's not the actual act of compiling the list but rather the mere thought of thinking about compiling such a list that seems to weigh so much.

Yeesh.
Maybe a nap will help.

Singing in the Rain?

Our company picnic was yesterday. It rained, but we had a pavilion so it mattered not. The rain made the sack race a bit more challenging and this year when Phil fell, the mud splash was spectacular.

We had a really cool moonbounce. It was divided into sections with a ladder and a slide connecting the rooms. Mad fun. The kids were adorable. One can tell quite a bit about people by watching them interact with children.

I was responsible for bringing deviled eggs and water balloons (among other things). The night before, Wendy peeled three dozen hard boiled eggs for me---no small task (she's the best!). She and I took turns filling up balloons until we had a huge cooler full. I think the adults had even more fun than the kids did with the balloons. I know I did.

My favorite memory of this particular picnic, however, was seeing my vegetarian boss surreptitiously gnawing on one of the delicious barbequed ribs. Rules are meant to be broken, after all.

Annual Review

One day last week I went over to my friend Tina's house. It took me twenty minutes to drive there. She lives about a mile from us. Twenty minutes. Usually takes three. I could have walked there faster. There are only two stop signs between here and there. But the local high school lies directly between our homes. And it was graduation night for the Class of 2004. Place was a madhouse.

It got me thinking about this time last year. Our lives were so different. It's been a difficult year, wrought with change. And while has been a difficult year for many folks besides myself, I'm writing this from my point of view so it is my difficult year to which I refer.

Last year at this time The Boy had just graduated high school. He had secured a summer job working at a local water park as a lifeguard. He had the little blue pickup truck for transportation. He had a wonderful girlfriend he'd been dating since the summer before. The decision on which college to attend had been made and funding was in place. The future then (as does now) stretched out before him like a road paved in gold. Strong, handsome, smart, talented, healthy and kind. I was (and still am) so very proud of him.

During his last year of high school we were so busy I could easily postpone considering what life would be like without The Boy around every day. It was easy enough to put off because I knew I'd have plenty of time to experience it after he left. Oh sure, I'd seen other parents go through it. Most seemed fine, professing to miss their little darlings while luxuriating in their Glow of Newfound Freedom.

Uh, hello? It's been almost a year! Anyone? Where is MY glow? I'm still anxiously awaiting delivery of My Glow of Newfound Freedom dammit! Hrumph. Maybe this is one of those things that Must Be Done By Oneself. Maybe all this time I've been awaiting delivery of My Glow when I was supposed to go pick it up myself. Doh.

I think perhaps a good first step in Finding My Glow may be to make a list of all the good things I've experienced in the past year WITHOUT GIVING ANY CONSIDERATION to what my life was like before. Sounds simple enough. Okay. Goals are good. Now I have a new one.

The Kiss

This is just... well... hot. I'd give proper credit and props and such to both the photographer and the models but I don't know who they are and I can't read the fine print at the bottom of this little image and I'm not inspired to look it up right now. Suffice it to say I admire both the artist and the art forms.

Stuck on Stickers?

It's really quite wonderful when one's children become old enough to help with the mundanities of everyday life. Being able to say "Son, my car needs an oil change. Please take it down to the Jiffy Lube for me." Sending him on that type of errand had two-fold usefulness. Not only did my auto get the much-needed (most likely overdue) oil change, The Boy became exposed to new experiences and got more comfortable comporting himself therein.

I think it was right before the trip to drop him off at college when I again sent him off with my Camry, sporting it's bright rainbow stickers of course, to the Jiffy Lube. Now, he had driven my car on many other occasions because it's much more comfortable than the little pickup truck at his disposal. I'm not really sure how much thought he even gave driving our rainbow-stickered vehicles (although when we turned the little blue pickup truck over to him for his primary use, I did peel off it's rainbow). He came home from the Jiffy Lube errand with this story. Well it's not really a story and not really an event and not even particularly interesting, but it is something. I just can't pin a word on it.

One of the Jiffy Lube technicians was someone The Boy knew from high school. This fellow was like "Dude, what's up with the rainbow sticker on your car? You gay or something?" The Boy let him know that it was his mother's car and therefore her sticker. He laughed about it when he got home.

What I learned from this is not to assume that just because the car has a rainbow sticker is not necessarily an indication the occupants are gay. Maybe they just like rainbows. Or maybe they are doing a favor for their lesbian mom. Or gay dad. Or someone unrelated. Wish The Boy was home now because my car is yet again due for an oil change.