Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Giving Really Quiet Thanks

This has a happy ending, so don't get put off  by the beginning of this blog.  I have to give you a little background before putting my vulnerable self out there.  I'm sweating while thinking about this.

Every year, we join the wife's family in the Cheddarlands to celebrate Thanksgiving.  This is a very good thing as they make everything from scratch and they like to watch football.  (Okay, so LIKE isn't a strong enough word--they LIVE for football of the Cheesehead kind).  And, every year after dinner, they sit in a circle and one by one say what they are grateful for. They used to do it before dinner but with the addition of spouses and children to the family, it started taking too long, so they moved it to after dinner but before dessert.  It's a sob fest, with everyone but me blubbering and making snot and crying so hard that they can't even speak. This traditionally goes on for a minimum of one hour and a record of three hours. They pour their souls out, gasping for air as they profess their gratitude for everything.  That is a good thing, too, if you can get pass the crying.  These are truly grateful people who love each other dearly.

Then, there is me.

I don't cry during this event.  I barely even tear up during the "toughest" of thankfulness.  I sit there and wait my turn. I put my game face on and steel myself for whatever they might say. I keep my smile on my face because it is touching to hear everyone express their thanks.  I then say, "I'm really grateful to be here."

With that, I pass my turn.

Every year, I say the same thing....because I can't say what I REALLY want to say.

In the earlier years, I couldn't say much of anything meaningful because there was a silent agreement that the wife and I would not speak as a couple.  Heck, it took me 16 years to get invited to one of the holiday gatherings, so I wasn't gonna blow it with a litany of thanks for the wife.  Out of respect to her parents, I bit my tongue and said nothing about us or the wife.  I guess that where the "I'm really grateful to be here" started, as I was truly grateful to finally be there and I knew I couldn't say anything more lest I upset the family in one way or another.  This was pretty easy in the beginning as only a few of the siblings had partners of any kind and there were no kids.  I'm not a very demonstrative person, anyway, so biting my tongue didn't lead to bleeding from the mouth or anything.

Then, the siblings got spouses and they started spewing love for their partners. They look lovingly into each others eyes, sobbing as they spilled out gratitude & love. I had to bite a little harder and say, "I'm really grateful to be here."  I think I started saying how happy I was about the dogs and having a good job, just to mix it up a bit.

Finally, the wife's family came around and decided I wasn't going anywhere and I wasn't so bad and I wasn't trying to recruit anyone and that I really wasn't a heathen sinner and that I was pretty amusing....but, then came the children.  Lots of children.  Lots of children who know nothing of who the wife is to me and who I am to the wife. (You'd think by now someone would be saying, "who is Aunty Addi and who does she belong to? Why does she keep showing up at these events?") They know I come with the wife to all family functions but there has been nary a question.  So, with the kids in the circle and out of respect to their parents, I'm back to saying, "I'm really grateful to be here."

Well, I've decided that this year I will say what I want to say.  Kind of.  In this blog.

Okay, this is a blog, so that's not very romantic or personal.  There is only so vulnerable you can make yourself in a blog. There is only so much that can be written without getting ridiculous. Nonetheless, I'm going to blog my gratitude right here and now, then I'll hand it to the wife.  At least that way she will know what I would say if I could/would/should.

I am grateful for the wife for more reasons I can count and more than I can express in a blog.

I am thankful that the wife keeps me grounded while letting me reach for the stars.
She trusts me with all her being.
She tells it like it is.

The wife puts up with my fingerprints on the microwave, 
        my piles on the kitchen table,
                my twangy country music while riding in the car,
                       my desire to stay home at night instead of going out,
                             the addition of yet another tattoo,
                                    the purchase of yet another Xena item.

I can tell her anything.
I can be myself, be whom I want and need to be.
I trust her with all my being.

I am thankful for all she's taught me,
For all she's given me,
For all she's said to me.
For all she hasn't said to me!
I am glad we are opposites so we can balance each other.

The wife puts up with my dirty car,
        my failure to finish doing my laundry,
             my love of Beef-a-Roo and Panera,
                   my independence and impaired ability to stay on task,
                       my inability to cheer for one specific football team.

I like that I think of her when listening to my twangy country music.
        I am amazed at what a hard, dedicated worker she is.
              I appreciate that she worries and frets about this or that,
              because she actually cares about things,                
                      about doing a good job,
                               about being a good person,
                                      about being a good employee and a fine partner.
                    I am amused by her need to buy everything on sale,
                               refusing to buy things at full price.
                                      I am secretly touched that she cries
                                      during TV commercials.

I am thankful that we can get mad at each other and be okay with that and then fix whatever we're mad about.
I'm glad we don't get mad at each other very often--we bicker.  Call us the Bickersons.
I'm thankful for the growth we have enjoyed.

I'm glad she's just smiles and nods when I buy tickets to yet another Madonna concert.
      I'm excited she finally acquiesed and let me get dogs.
            I'm thankful that she finds my need for new license plates every year
            to be a waste of money but still doesn't give me a hard time about it.

Mostly, I am glad that I will actually be able to marry her.
I am thankful that Illinois passed the marriage act so I can MARRY her.
       I am grateful that we will be afforded rights and not have to worry
       about things that we've always had to worry about.
            I am happy we will be able to just be a couple.
                   I am excited to the wife's wife.I like her more every day.
                         Heck, am glad I like--love--her more every day.

And, so I am ever so blessed to be with such a good person.
          Thank you to the wife.
                     I am grateful for you and to you.
                             Here's to me one day saying this in your family circle.
******************************************************
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  Hope it is a great one.
******************************************************



Saturday, November 23, 2013

Sweet and Sour

I'm a little bitter at Hawaii as they beat Illinois to being Number 15; hence, they have made my last blog obsolete.  Illinois signed their gay marriage law after Hawaii, so now Illinois is Sweet Sixteen and Hawaii claimed their stake on Number 15.  I suppose that 16 has a good ring to it, but still.

(If you need a good chuckle, check out Judy Baar Topinka's speech at the signing.  This Republican, naughty as she is, likes to have a good time. She's my kind of Republican.)

I liked turning sixteen.  I had a birthday party at Ponderosa with five good friends.  I got my driver's license right away....and, that was REALLY sweet for sweet 16 as I got to drive a Mustang!  (Ask my sister about her first ride with me.) Sixteen was an overall really good year, although it was not a good year for physics class.  That class ruined my straight A's.  (Um, it crushed my straight A's.  I think I almost flunked.  Physics and I do not get along, no offense to physicists of the world.)  I went to state on the speech team when I was 16.  (Talk about terrifying--I was doing original comedy--I know, I know, no surprise--during the competition, no one laughs because they are all competing against you.  It's horrible.  The judges don't laugh, your competition gives you the stink eye, you're sweating and thinking you are funny but you're not sure that you are funny at all.  It does nothing for your self-esteem. It made me constipated and ill before every meet. Thank god I had a good run.)  I'm not particularly found of the number 16 (I have a weird thing about numbers, but that's for another blog), but it's certainly more likable than 17 in my numbers book.  Sweet 16 will suffice and we big ol' queers in the flat lands shall celebrate our Sweet 16 like there's no tomorrow (which the fundamentalists assure there will be no tomorrow, now that this hedonistic law has passed).

Side note: Thank you to the priest that did the exorcism right after the signing.  I'm sure he had good success with that endeavor.  I feel so much lighter.  I don't want to don my gay apparel for the holidays now that he's done that.

Why, here I am, burning in Hell.

(Or, maybe this is a picture of me enjoying the new movie about catching fire, with our beloved Katniss.  I did thoroughly enjoy the movie.  It's hot.)


Now that the IL Guv (who is not imprisoned, which is better than our last two governors who remain in prison) has signed the okay for gay marriage, I can't stop thinking about it.  I know I wrote about it last post but I can't let it go.  Maybe it's because I just can't believe it.  I watched the signing via the Internet and I still can't believe it.  The only reason I really believe it is because of all the hate spewing out of opponents--THAT ensures me this is real (so, keep on spewing, people!).  Although the wife and I will not have a ceremony (after all, we've already done that), we will "upgrade" on the first day possible, trading our civil union license in for a marriage license (followed by a high five, I am sure) and then be married as of three years ago.  Go figure.

Dos Marias asked if there is an upgrade in jewelry with the upgrade in marital status.  Good question. We do love jewelry....but, my ring is perfect, unbreakable, scratch-free.  I can't upgrade that thing. I need something that I can't ruin or break and I have that.  Maybe the wife can get a double-upgrade--hers and mine. She doesn't break jewelry and I'd be all good with that.  Time to go shopping? I hear they have great sales at the holidays.....

I wish I had better news on the dog front, as that IS something we DO need.  Poor Lucy. Life's crazy like that--the blind, deaf smelly dog who is on borrowed time and doesn't know she's on the planet is healthy as a horse and the younger, livelier, seemingly healthier one may be facing a short battle with cancer. ("Short" because cancer doesn't take its time in such situations.) We're going to have Blue Eyes and Pastor Master Reiki stop by and see what they think.  Blue Eyes has a gift with animals, so she may be better at telling us what's going on than the vet is able to do.  I may be 100% wrong about Lucy--after all, there have been no lab tests--but, the look on the vet's face and her readiness to refer us for surgery, chemo and radiation suggest otherwise.

There will be no surgery, chemotherapy or radiation.  I will not put her through that.  Surgery would only buy her some time, not years.  She's had an amazing life, as far as dogs go.  Our dogs live better than most people.  I will not put her through the misery of surgery.  There will be no invasive lab tests or biopsies; after all, it won't change anything I do.  Does it matter if it's cancer or "just" tumors? No, it won't.  I wouldn't do treatment--I'd do palliative things and I'm already doing that.  I will give her Golden Arches hamburgers, share my ice cream, let her sleep on the bed, enjoy every day....

.....and, make sure the dogs are featured on the holiday card (of which I am designing today).  I figure if I do that, they'll both live for like seven more years and you can all make fun of me.

You can make fun of my $27.00 unbreakable ring while you are making fun of this report on the dogs. I look forward to that.  I love being wrong, especially about things like this.  If I'm not wrong, you can send chocolate and money to my therapy fund.

I can't end this blog on a sad note.  It'd be just plain wrong.  So, I will end by reminding that gay-exorcising priest better to watch out.  I am authorized to do exorcisms, too.  Why, I think I'll do one on him while I have some free time this weekend.....

......BAM! I'll exorcise the gayness into him. Happy Sweet 16, padre!
*********************************************************************








Sunday, November 10, 2013

Fifteen

Well, well, well.  Illinois is the 15th state to pass gay marriage.

Now, if you don't believe in gay marriage, I am all good with that and with you.  

If you do believe in gay marriage, I'm all good with that and with you, too.

We all have our own beliefs and convictions.  I am not here to judge who is right or wrong and I'm not here to try and convince you of anything about this issue.  I support the freedom to have your own beliefs and convictions even when I don't agree.

That said, Illinois rocks!

I didn't write about this gay-marriage-in-Illinois thing earlier because I was in disbelief, with few words to share.  (That's a first.) I never thought this would happen in my lifetime and I certainly didn't think it was going to pass in Illinois.  I hadn't planned on watching the fall veto session debate or potential vote--I promised myself I would not do that, as last time--when they did not call SB10 to vote in the House--I was devastated. I watched the whole thing via the Internet from my kitchen table, muttering for them to "call the vote." The longer time went on, the sicker I felt.  As time was expiring in the final session of the House, I remember yelling--no, screaming--at the computer screen: "THEY AREN'T GOING TO CALL THE VOTE!"

They did not call the vote and I decided, right then and there while seated at said kitchen table, that I would not watch when the fall veto session rolled around.  I refused to give one more penny to the effort toward a fall veto session vote. I deleted every single email I received without opening them. I refused to write or call my congresspeople again.

I was bitter, party of one.

Fast-forward to last week.  I knew the fall veto session was in process, so I avoided the news like the plague.  It wasn't until I took a quick peek at book de la face during a quiet moment on the job that I noticed the gay marriage debate was in progress.  I strengthened my conviction, saying aloud that I would not watch.  I tried to ignore all the links being posted that led right to the debate.  I argued aloud with myself, begging not to click on the link.

I clicked on the link.

It figures that I clicked on the link just as the nay-sayers were trashing the idea.  I said aloud, "I can't watch this. I swore I wouldn't watch this. I am not going to watch this."

A co-worker chuckled from the room next door.

I tried to leave the web site and get back to focusing on my work....but, I couldn't.  Instead, I turned up the volume, chastising myself the entire time.  My co-worker chuckled a little bit louder.  "I thought you said you weren't going to watch that."

(By this time, my boss, an advocate for all things in my life, knew I was doing this, so no worries. I texted her about the debate, alerting her I was watching.  She wished me luck.)

I sat there at my desk, engrossed in the debate.  Then, suddenly.....they called the vote.

One of my employees walked in to my office to ask me a question, right as they were calling the vote.  I screamed at him: 
"NOT NOW!"

(Boy, that's a great way for a boss to act.)

I held up my hand, giving him the palm-of-shut-up, my eyes still glued to the screen.  He slinked out of my office.  I gave a yell as he slinked out, "JUST WAIT A MINUTE!!"

They voted.  I held my breath, watching the tally of the vote.  Slowly, incredibly, amazingly....up popped the number "61."

Sixty one for number 15.  Gay marriage will be allowed in Illinois, starting June 1, 2014.

At first, I was incredulous.  It didn't really make sense.  Then, I was washed over by guilt--after all, I had all but shunned the process. Then, I was covertly giddy.  Then, I was back to incredulous.  It was just too much to fathom.  I'm not kidding when I say I didn't think it would ever happen in my life time.

The wife and I don't have to do anything except take our civil union license to the county clerk and "upgrade" it to a marriage license.  Incredibly, we will then be married, with our marriage date being our civil union date.  How wild is that? As of June 1, 2014, we'll have been married for almost three years....without even trying.

Lest you think this is a non-issue--after all, we had a civil union--let me assure you otherwise.  We can now file federal taxes as a married couple.  We can get on each other's insurance.  We don't have to worry about hospital rules for who can enter the room.....we will have the same rights as all married couples.  We will have access to spousal benefits in general.   By one vote, we got over 1,000 benefits that married couples get.  Over one thousand.

Here's the man of whom I need to apologize:

Dear Rep. Harris,
I am sorry for giving up, for not sending money, for spouting one negative comment, for refusing to believe in your efforts.  I should probably send you a bazillion dollars so you can be re-elected for the remainder of your life.  Your hard work is recognized and appreciated more than you can know.
Most sincerely, humbly and respectfully,
Addi Warrior Princess

I shall also apologize to all our straight friends who manned the phone banks and worked tirelessly to help further this cause:
Dear straight allies,'
I am a schmuck.  I grovel for your forgiveness.  You rock.
Love, The very un-deserving Addi Warrior Princess

No, there will not be a royal wedding, but I'm holding to the idea of having some form of a party.  I best invite Rep. Harris and all our hard-working, dedicated straight advocates. They are the reason we now have those 1000 rights.  They've earned a seat at a table of honor and a permanent place in my vault of gratitude.

Hmmmm.....shall we register somewhere and gets some china?

Heck no, we should be inundated with toasters.   ;-)
***************************************************************************
(If you don't believe in gay marriage, don't worry--we won't invite you. Just sayin'. But, be warned--you are going to miss a lot of fun.  Kiss kiss.)


Monday, November 04, 2013

Time Flies

I dedicate this blog to my 30 year old minion--er, I mean co-worker, who laments on how I continue to use TWO spaces after a period instead of the now-approved (and taught) ONE space.  I just can't do it.  Try as I might, two spaces just show up.  I told him to respect my need for two spaces, as I am from the land of manual typewriters.  Seriously--if you are my age, try and type using only one space after the end of a sentence.

Last night while watching a football game (and playing that Friend Word game on my Kindle and scrolling through book de la fast posts on my phone and checking emails on my computer and making piles of work papers on the floor), I wondered where all my time was "going."  I thought about how I am always busy but no more so than usual....then, pondered why on earth I haven't been able to find time to go walking, blog, draw something (anything!), play with the dogs, visit with friends and/or family....

....then, right as I was checking the scores on my four fantasy football teams (yes, four), it dawned on me that my art professor was right--the older you get, the faster time goes.

When I was a senior in college listening to my favorite art professor's lecture, I thought he was crazy.  After all, how can time go faster? It is what it is.  He confused me. I certainly didn't believe him.

It must have made an impact because 30 years later, I still clearly recall his comments and talk.  And, as you learn as you get older that your parents were right about just about everything, I had to admit he was right, too.

I put down the phone and stepped away from the computer,  shut my kindle cover and stopped making piles. All this multi-tasking wasn't getting me any further "ahead" in the game, either.  Time marches on and it's going down hill.

Lest you get all maudlin, let me say this isn't a good or bad thing; it's just a thing. Time is a thing. Time can go fast or slowly.  Time can go in slow motion (like when waiting in line at Wally World) or it can go at the speed of light (like when on vacation).  I think there is scientific gobbly-gook that proves time goes fast and slow and probably backwards.  All I know is that during a gynecological exam time goes slowly (like molasses in January, as they say) and when meeting Lucy Lawless, time almost doesn't even exist (fastest 20 seconds of my entire life).

For those who don't know: I am a freak about time; in fact, one of my friends referred to me as "el tiempo" for awhile.  I hate being late. I always wear watch.  Heck, I own dozens of watches.  I always know what time it is--the wife can't believe it.  It's a race against time....I probably look like that dang rabbit in Wonderland. Time, time, time.....

Don't think that I stopped doing everything while pondering this--I left the football game on. Time's not going so quickly that I don't have time for football.  And, I kept an eye on the scrolling information on individual player status so I could keep mental note of how badly I was losing in the pools.

Let's get silly and use songs about time to lighten the mood.  For no purpose of any redeeming value, see if you can identify the song and artist about time passages:
I shall run quickly away from time well wasted.
I won't try to put time in a bottle.
I won't ask if anyone really knows what time it is.
Time after time we shall enjoy ice cream.
Once this blog is done, it will be time for me to fly.
Dear goodness, I never seem to have too much time on my hands.
Gosh, if I could turn back time, I'd eat more chocolate.
This probably won't be the last time I write about time.
I had the time of my life writing this blog about time.
And, my favorite: let's do the time warp again.

You can't have a bad day when you've done the time warp.

A survey of my week explained a bit of why I didn't have time (whatever time may be) to do those "other" things of which I haven't been doing.  The list of things doesn't matter; suffice it to say, I was busy doing stuff for work, church, friends and our little family.  Having an additional hour this weekend was delicious but it didn't get me any further, because time marched on despite giving me more time.

You can't beat time.  Time beats you.  Dang art professor.

Since I can't beat time, I best use time wisely and to my advantage.  It's my job to make sure there is enough time to eat as much chocolate as I want, to slice time into pie shapes of importance, to get done what I want to get done.  I'm going to assume that time is malleable.  I can bend it, cut it, use it as needed.  Oh sure, there are all those things that "have" to be done but I say there will be time for all I want to do, even when speeding downhill.

Professor Andy, you were right: time goes faster as we get older.  But, that doesn't mean time isn't on our side.....

....and, it certainly doesn't mean we won't have time to do the time warp....again.