Congratulations! You can marry your toaster...

At least according to folks in Cali.

I'm no expert on this stuff. There are social psychologists and religious folks who are all "experts" on this subject. They're busy yelling at each other that they're right and the opposition is wrong. I don't have tables and graphs and studies to illustrate my point. I certainly don't have the threats of eternal hell. It's just that I'm thinking that calling someone an abomination might be above most all of our paygrades.

But what do I know.

I was cleaning out a box of letters and photos when I came across a package of letters that were at least 17 years old. They were written by a friend who was living in New York. We'd been roommates before that. He'd shown me that a creative life wasn't just a hobby. You could actually do it for a living. A smart man, he saw the world as an interrelated dance.

Re-reading his letters gave my heart a tug. They were full of his anticipation and worry about someone he'd met. Someone who he said might be a person to live with. To love. There in his letters I watched as the relationship progressed from strangers who were curious into lovers. He was so happy. As long as I'd known him, he'd been looking for a committed relationship. He'd had flings but now he wanted a person to come home too. This person wasn't easy for him to find because of his life choices. He was dancing. When he wasn't dancing, he was working. He didn't earn much and most of it went for a roof over his head. Then he met this person and - well - he was happy. Here was a person he felt comfortable with. A hopeful match.

It made me smile to read the words again. He was happy.

And then he wasn't.

Apparently his friend's family didn't approve. The were very conservative and my friend wasn't worthy of their offspring. The next letters were sad. They talked about the unfair nature of what was happening. No matter how kind or how smart or how funny he was? It would never be good enough. The person who he loved just wasn't strong enough for the fight.

And he wasn't strong enough to come "out".

I was asked by a woman who was a lesbian, why (if I was a Christian) I didn't call her an abomination. Why did I call her friend instead. I told her it was simple. I didn't decide if she was going to Heaven or to Hell. That was, I believed, God's call not mine. But she was perhaps one of the best writer's I'd ever met. She liked what I wrote and I like what she wrote. Like my relationship with my New York friend, I became a better person and a better writer from having known her.

Listening to all the fuss about homosexuals marrying their toaster seems kind of strange and unrelated to my experience. I never, ever, met any of my friend's friends who were interested in marrying their kitchen appliances nor their dog. They were trying to find something real in this world.

Love.

Home.

Family.

Household appliances had nothing to do with it. To say anything different wouldn't be telling the truth.






They're voting (if they haven't already) on Kagan's nomination to the US Supreme Court. There's always alot of talk about judicial temperment. It makes sense to ask about her knowledge of Constitutional Law and her past rulings. This isn't just the job of a llifetime. Oh no, this is a life time job and she's young. If confirmed her words and judgement could resonate for decades. I'm glad that folks want to know what she knows about the law but me?

I want to know if she's a person.

I want to know how she will walk the line between the law and my friend's broken heart?

I'm thinking about all this because of tonight. LOL and because of an interview on "that little show in the middle of the night".. Don't know why but that man does get me to think- and to laugh.

Back later. Yard is looking better and better. Worth the effort.



Hugs,

AuthorAnn

It's dark.

.


"Love doesn't come with a contract..."






I'm sitting in the dark.

No, I'm not some creepy weird Internet stalker person. At least the folks I know don't think I am. If you were here you'd hear the sound of crunching. Or maybe munching. I'm eatting taco shells. I do that when I can't sleep and I'm worried.

I find something crunchy and I eat it.

Celery or taco shells, it has to have that cruchy sound thing or it's no go. At this moment there's a gallon of really good ice cream and chocolate sauce in the fridge but not interested. Nope. I'm eatting the taco shells and crunching.

In less than 24 hours I'll be in a restaurant looking cross the table at the longest "relationship" in my life. Next to my parents. We'll be on what should be a date type celebration. I've picked out what to wear and how my hair will look. The car is vacumed and the reservations were made two weeks ago. It's a nice restaurant. All organic and foody with a good wine list. I don't drink so the wine list is wasted on me but the food looks good.

Yet here I sit munching. It's a sign that something isn't right. I should be happy and I"m not.




..........



Treadmills and romance.

I was watching the LLS, when the subject of treadmills as an anniversary gift came up. Romance is such a tricky thing. I wrote about it. About how Valentine's Day doesn't have to be roses. Sometimes it a cactus. Alot of romance is expectation or maybe it's surprise. Dunno. I do know that it has to do with the person. A treadmill could be a very romantic gift or it could be a disaster even for the most pragmatic of person. I honestly don't know. If you look in my jewelry box there's a pair of earrings that I got for Christmas. It was a gift that was chosen with care from a person who was trying their best to give a lovely surprise. I still haven't worn them. They're beautiful but honestly I don't know this woman who is supposed to wear them. While the jewelry I wear is simple these earrings are not. So there they sit. Unworn. Waiting for the imaginary woman that they were bought for.


Sad.


.......


I really and truly want to laugh for my anniversary. And a hug. I'd like a hug for my anniversary. And to have my car detailed. Or a new forestay for the boat. Not earrings or this dinner out. That would be romantic.

You see romance isn't about the cost of the gift it's about the thought.

Paying attention.

This dinner is my idea but I don't think that I've been paying attention.

Neither have they.


That's why I'm up and crunching tacos. I'm very worried that neither of us have been paying attention and we're about to give each other "treadmills".

Very expensive treadmills.


This world is so complicated, if you aren't paying attention even roses can end up looking like a 'treadmill" on the heart.

I'm really worried.

..

..




It should be simple.

But for me?

It's as complicated as trying to stand up right after life's spun you around so fast and hard that just standing still is mystery.


What I do know:

I love God.

I love my son.

I love my pups,

I love my sailboat,

I love my truck,

I love to listen to country music,

I love sitting in the yard after working in it,

I love being on the hammock looking up at the trees at night, in the summer when it's cooler and everything is crickets and tree frogs,

(as crazy as it is) I love to watch that little show in the middle of the night,


and I love?




in moderation of course. LOL


It's hard to explain but that's really where I'd like to celebrate.

On the water with someone who thinks that's a really good idea.


But not in a hurricane or a flood. Just sayin'...


...


...

..

They say it's your birthday....

.




Happy Birthday to President Obama.

Hope it's been a great day.

Many more years of happy birthdays to you sir.



Regards,

the folks at The Slacker Chronicles.


PS I would have used the regular birthday song but apparently the copyright restrictions are too steep...



...

The Political Season

.

It's 2010 and constiuents are unhappy...





People can be such cynics...






written on

this day

"Well -- when we did it?

.

It was a three ringed circus...

and I was the overweight, wanna be trapeze artist who sang Socretes..."







I want to remember this video. It's a good idea. Each of the parts in the song, Tower of Babel was a real philosopher; they where archetypes of their philosophical view. This takes that notion a bit futher and tries ( I guess) to make the architypes of these philosophies into stereotypes of regular people.

The video was incorporated into a production of Godspell.

I'd love to try and redo this idea. Just tweek it. I'd like to see WHO protesters, the "supermom" morphing into different settings. The man/woman business people at the negociating across the board room table, maybe lawyers arguing in the USSupreme Court, maybe a point counter point on a FOX or CNN news show, or screen shots of Twitter arguments back and forth. Much more contrast and pushing the architypes to their extreme. They are so wildly different. All speaking English but talking different "languages". It's that sharp contrast that shows the world's "Tower of Bable" existance. Then at the end, the same people watching these architypes on a video screen or sat TV. They'd question who they are in relation to all the "babel" that they are hearing and seeing. They'd mute it. Rewind. Catch it on TIVO. Trying to make sure they heard it correctly while they sing the final characters part.

"Who am I?"

What with the "conversations" you can have on Twitter. The ones where the idea is to throw thoughts out there and be heard but not hear back?

No dialog. Just "Kilroy was here." Now trending...



Sigh,


back to cleaning flower beds...


(at least I'll have something to think about in the heat)


written by
AuthorAnn

Got to be real...

.



Wise words...


When you're walking down the "catwalk of life" in D & G sparkly underpants?

And you fall?

Get back up and strut it.












It's been a while...

The high light of this week was taking stuff to the dump -- uh sanitary landfill -- with someone I've known longer than anyone (other than parents).

That and surviving race duty and yard work in 100 degree heat.

The yard looks great but between you and me?

I wouldn't mind having my fancy underpants back.



Cya,

AA