The New Baby

Dawn says that she likes to learn something new everyday, and on Sunday she learned not to let me free in a flea market by myself.

He's only 7 weeks old and still shaky on his legs. He was bottle-fed so he's very snuggly. We're already totally in love with him. We're going to let him name himself, so it may take a while.

The rest of the zoo is adjusting. The massive dog would lick him to death if we let her. The cats aren't quite sure yet, and the kids are ecstatic!

Pretty cute, huh?

Just Where I Wanted It

Here's my new washer. Dawn and I installed it ourselves.

Dawn's Dad, the Lutheran

Catch-up: Dawn's mom outed her to her dad a few weeks ago. This was after she had agreed that because of his religious views and failing health that he shouldn't be told.

This is his first contact with her since.

Dear Daughter,
My Love for you will always be there. My heart is very heavy.
I cannot accept your chosen life style.
Your mother and I will always welcome you and our grandchildren with open arms. I cannot accept your chosen family into my home.
You should revisit your Christian upbringing. Mostly the 4th commandment as in the Small Lutheran Catechism.
God Bless, Love Dad

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean
on your own understanding".
Proverbs 3:5

I had to ask, too. The 4th Commandment, which Dawn keeps slipping and calling the 4th Amendment which, strangely enough, protects against search and seizure without probable cause, is "Honor thy Mother and thy Father." I expected it to be "Thou shalt not commit Adultery."

Hmmmm. Any ideas?

Oh! Happy Day

I love the smell of Free Appliances in the morning! That's right, girls - this Momma is getting back the washer and dryer that used to be rightfully mine. My ex took them in the split, gave them to his brother who stored them at their folks' house and who now works for a company with a big truck. I say, "Yeah!" (And you say, "Yeah!") "Whatch ya gonna say?" (And you say, "Yeah!") Picture semi-skinny white girl going the Cabbage Patch, the Hammer and the Roger Rabbit totally out of rhythm. It's gonna be a good day! Live it up!

Dennis Tower

Just when I thought my little throw-up boy had drifted off to sleep and I could sneak out, he raised his little head and said, "Will you get Dawn? I want her tell me a Dennis Tower. And can it be about horses?" I assured him I would find her.

Dennis Tower is a figment of Dawn's imagination. He resembles Dennis the Menace in demeanor and our Baby Ray in appearence (both have hair like the sun). His most recent exploit involved a gift horse that followed Dennis around all summer.

The love of my life is telling a story to the first baby that I grew in my body. He's sick; and he asked for her. I'm crying big tears of joy and gratitude.

Good Night.

This Is Why I Can't Afford Another Pillow

The barfing and pants-crapping continues and now the washer has gone out. Fuck!

Twins

One of my followers and a rekindled friend of Dawn's, Laura brought up a good point. She was confused by my references to "Faith's twin" because she remembers (or thought that she remembered) Faith's birth as a single one.

We have referred to Faith and William as "the twins" for so long that it didn't occur to me that it would be confusing. Here's the real story. When Dawn and I met, Faith was 18 months old and William was just a 4 month-old babe-in-arms. But they were exactly the same size. Faith was itty-bitty for her age and William wore a size 3 month outfit home from the hospital. We and they have been inseparable ever since; and they have remained the same size ever since.

You would be amazed at the questions and remarks that we get about them. Faith's father is African-American-Dutch-Yadda Yadda. He is the true melting pot American, but most closely identifies as African-American. William's father is British - pasty white. Except for their size, the children couldn't look more different. And still we get, "Are they twins?" at least once a week. Dawn has a big time with it. She says crazy things like, "Yes, they are, but she is 14 months older than he." People smile and say, "Wow, that's really cool." She says, "Yes, and their fathers are so proud" or "Yes, they are but they don't have the same parents." People just smile and nod like bobble-head dolls.

Last week at school (they're even in the same class), the health department came to screen the kids. William is a 1/4 of an inch taller than she and a half pound heavier. Their BMIs are exactly the same.

So, forgive me if you have felt misled. But I can't believe that when they are in their 30s and she hasn't broken 5 feet and he is 6'4", that I won't still be calling them "the twins."

Schizophrenia

Today is a day when Baby Ray wants the guy simultaneously in the car and out of the car. He's hungry and pissed off at the Cheerios. He wants to go outside but hates his shoes. It's a day when I wonder just how much Benadryl qualifies as child abuse. Pulling my eyebrows out -

Channel Boy George

Betsy's brother is Gay! I love Karma!

I'll be interrupting regularly scheduled programming to bring you more on this breaking story!

(If you're totally confused refer to my past posts, "Dawn has Kicked Down the Closet Door," "Boring, boring, boring," and "Testimony". That should get you up to speed.)

Tossing and Turning

Dawn and I have 3 crappy, probably mildewed, completely worthless pillows. And 1 fabulous, perfect, keeps-my-neck-from-falling-off pillow. We call it "the $80 pillow." It's not creative, I know. We decide who gets it each night by debating who has the harder next day. When she has to go to work, she gets it. If I'm sick, I get it. Whoever is crying about her dad definitely gets it and probably shares it most of the night.

Last night Dawn got it because she's at work today. At about 4 am, Faith came in saying that her tummy hurt. Dawn got up and gave me the pillow. Since our bedroom shares a wall with the kid bathroom, I was privy to the gagging and retching noises that followed a few minutes later. I was quite surprised when Faith came barreling into our room and said, "Quick! William's throwing up. Dawn needs you!" I abandoned the pillow.

Once everyone was settled in again, Dawn reclaimed the pillow. We were just dozing off when Faith came back. She was hungry. I got the pillow back. Dawn came back and got the pillow back. Faith came back and wanted Dawn to sleep with her. Dawn and the pillow left me and the pitiful wanna-bes to battle until morning.

So now I'm exhausted and my neck hurts and I miss Dawn. The triple-whammy. I hate things that aren't cured by coffee.

Battery

Last night was Storm's first little league game. It was full of comedic moments, but I think my favorite happened just before the first at-bat. The coach was calling out the kids' numbers to tell them the batting order. Storm was listening attentively when a look of total panic swept over his face. He dashed out of the dugout and sprinted to us. Just before he ran his mother over, he turned around, looked over his shoulder and said, "What number am I?"

All was going well until Faith jumped up from the bevy of little girls and began chasing another of the flock with a sharpened pencil. I could hear that horrible piercing "Renk Renk Renk" sound from Psycho. Thankfully, Mimi grabbed up our little Norman Bates before she caught the other child. When I asked Faith why she was stalking her prey, she said, "Because she was singing, and I didn't like it." My God.

I was reminded, though of a story that I think you guys will all get a kick out of. It concerns my aunt Lisa who is now a big dyke living happily in Atlanta with her big dyke girlfriend. When Lisa was a girl she, of course, was a tomboy. At half-time of the high-school football games, the little boys and Lisa would play touch on the field until the game resumed. One Friday night, when Lisa came off the field, she saw a little turd boy chasing her younger sister and trying to kiss her. Lisa got a hold of him, threw him up against the chain link and beat him until the fence was leaned over. A teacher seperated them and marched Lisa up into the stands to her parents. When they got home, her father said, "Next week, you're gonna wear a dress and sit in the stands with me." Lisa said, "Well then I'm not goin'."

Menagerie

We have something of a zoo at our house. Here's the rundown. Gabby is a 75 lb. chow-lab mix. She's big and black and barks at everything bigger than a butterfly. She scares the shit out of delivery men, the mailman, and once a pair of policemen who made the mistake of jumping our fence in pursuit of a bad guy. We love her.

Yoda Marie is a 15 lb cat. She's almost 12 years old and has been with me since college. She has literally licked tears off my face. When she passes, I'll have to be locked up for a while, I'm sure.

Rocket is a little black and white cat. He ran in the front door right after we moved in. He was only a few weeks old and so little that I couldn't find him for days and days. He finally emerged and chose to stay.

Lulu and Opal are cockatiels. I gave them to Dawn for our first Christmas in our new house. The guy I got them from was a breeder and told me they were sisters. However, after their first molt, they were clearly brothers. So now we call them Lou and Opie.

There are 4 fish tanks. I won't bore you with the sordid history of the fish. Suffice it to say that the fish are plenty and my kids know that the potty is the gateway to fishy heaven.

My ex-husband gets a kick out of telling people that his ex-wife is a lesbian with a man-hating dog and transgendered birds.

St. Patrick's Day, It Is!

I just realized it's St. Patrick's Day. I also just had the first real belly laugh in days. I'm a belly laugher, so that's a long time for me. The huge Ha Ha came after I read someone's blog that ended with "Happy St. Patrick's Day!" Mometarily confused, I scrolled down to the clock on my screen to see what the date is, and sure enough, it's Green Beer day. Then I caught sight of the crazy outfit that I chose off the bedroom floor this morning. Army Green capris and a Kelly Green tank top. I look like a lesbian leprechaun, for the love of Ireland!

Thanks for all the kind words, Guys and Gals. It's been really nice to have the kindness of strangers to fall back on in the past few days. If we were face friends instead of virtual friends, I'd buy a round of the aforementioned Green Goodness, but we're not so buy yourself one and think about how great you are:) Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Fervor

Oh, Girls! I wrote too soon. Dawn's mother has crash landed in Weirdoville, population 3. Demographics are a bit skewed. All inhabitants are over 60 and all are Missouri Synod Lutherans and all, at this writing, are not speaking to the only angel any of them have ever come in contact with. Strange, yes, that 2 of them birthed her.

Dawn's mother, Maggie took the news of our relationship really well, initially. Like everything else, it was about her, but still. She did well. She agreed that telling Dawn's father, Ed was not a good idea because of his fervent religious zeal and ailing health. Great. Matter closed. Just Kidding.

Unbeknownst to Dawn, Maggie emailed Pastor Ken Klaus, a radio pastor that Ed listens to. They have met him a few times briefly, but there is no personal relationship to speak of. She told him all about Dawn and how fabulous she is and that she has just recently come out to her and should we tell Ed and how if so and what are your teachings if any on the matter that Ed may have heard on the program and are there any passages she should be aware of in speaking to him and yadda yadda. Well, the good Pastor had a lot to say on the subject, none of it positive. He accused Dawn of "ripping at the fabric of the family" and "playing with fire both spiritually and literally" and of "laying a heavy burden on her mother's heart." Wow.

So what did Maggie do with this? She showed Ed. Really. That is how she told him about Dawn and me. She showed him her email to Pastor Brimstone and his back to her. As if all of that isn't bad enough, she didn't call to let Dawn know that she had told him. So yesterday morning, Dawn called her folks to find out a good down home remedy for a bee sting. Her father answered and quickly handed the phone to her mother. Still Maggie didn't come clean. Not until Dawn mentioned that I had sent an email to Maggie that needed to be intercepted because I didn't know that Maggie and Ed share an email account (who does that?!), did she confess that she had told him and so it was OK if he saw my email. Dawn did lots of yelling and screaming that it "wasn't yours to tell."

Think that's the end? Nope. Later in the afternoon, Maggie sent out a mass email to Dawn, her 3 siblings and her sister's boyfriend who none of them have ever even met, saying that all of them have a long way to go before they will understand her realtionship with Ed and the depth of their love and commitment to each other and that she doesn't care what anyone thinks of her decision to tell him. Apparently, everyone needed to be involved in the News of the Weird in Weirdoville.

Words of wisdom, please! Barely Breathing - Windy

Clickity Click

Dawn is a photographer. She's so intuitive and natural behind a camera. I've been trying to convince her for years to do it professionally. Of course, she's finally convinced me to write after that long, so all hope is not lost.

A few days ago she got a little Sharpie marker key chain for her mail truck keys. (She's also a mail carrier. Down, Dawg.) Her first order of business was to mark me. Then she had to take pictures of her mark on me.

How hot are we?

Testimony

Betsy, the lunatic "friend" who voted Yes on 8 and made reservations for us to have lunch with Jesus, has sent a package. No, no bombs or anthrax, though I'm sure her pastor offered them. Everyone had a little something in the box. Dawn had some books and biscotti. The kids had random kid stuff - glow sticks, stickers, etc. The funniest things were for me and Ray. I got a stepping stone that says, "Through Him, all things are possible." Ray got a washcloth with 3 crosses and an Easter Lily on it. The phrase that ran through my mind . . . "Holy Crap!"

Lost in Translation

Thought you guys would get a kick out of this. Our very sweet, very loving and accepting, yet very Catholic friend, Mandy sent Dawn an email which read, "Hey, Ladies. What do you guys feel the eggs with?" We were baffled. Totally baffled. We stared at each other with furrowed brows and half-smiles. After deciding that she was trying to ask us something of a sexual nature, Dawn called her. Mandy was confused. "I meant the Easter Eggs. Do you fill them with candy or money or what?" Fill, not feel.

Boring, boring, boring!

In typical Dawn fashion, she has managed to turn this situation with her fanatic "friend" into some sort of "Come to Jesus" meeting. Both have confessed to allowing their friendship to falter and not doing their bests to be a part of each other's lives. Promises to do better and visit more and send more cards. Blah, blah, blah.

I feel a little cheated. I was revving up for a showdown. I wanted scripture slinging. I wanted heated policy debate with words that I don't understand. I wanted a cat-fight, Damnit!

Alas, my lovely peaceful Dawn surprises me again. I don't know why it still surprises me when she does the exact perfect thing, the thing that would never have occurred to me if I were chained in a think tank for a year and a half.

So now I guess I need to ready myself for Betsy's visit. If she comes over Memorial Day weekend and ruins my pride fest, well, we may get a cat-fight after all.

Dawn has Kicked Down the Closet Door

Waring Ninja Style. Beautiful angular body slicing through the air in slow-motion. For real. She finally told her Mom and her crazy right-wing nut job "friend" about us this week. They probably both already knew, but now she has said it out loud. And I am reminded of this song. And I am sharing it with you.

Her mom did great. The funniest thing she said was, "I hear the words you're saying, but I don't understand any of it." She laughed at herself.

The "friend" saga continues. She is uber-religious and super conservative and scary as hell. So far all she's done is quote scripture and say that she isn't like the other "Bible-throwing" Christians and that she hopes we are able to find the Jesus that eats with sinners. -Sigh-
Oh! And her feelings are hurt because she wasn't the first to know. -Another Sigh-

This should get really good once Dawn starts quoting scripture back to her. I'll keep you abreast (hehehehe) of the situation.

Everyone has seen this, I'm sure, but it bears repeating, doesn't it? Love it!

Wade in the Water

Florida’s Beaches were segregated. I swear that had never occurred to me. I’m from Mississippi, ground zero for the civil rights movement and the integration battles. I think of lunch counters and the Little Rock Nine and George Wallace and James Meredith. But not beaches.

I heard the program “Florida’s Frontiers” on WUWF yesterday afternoon. It was about the Forgotten Women in Florida’s history. It highlighted a woman who led the charge in integrating Florida’s beaches. Instead of sit-ins, the demonstrations were called swim-ins and wade-ins. And yes, they were as bloody and ugly as their inland counterparts. There are pictures of grown (I hesitate to use the word adult) white people in swim trunks wrestling and pummeling African-Americans also in swim trunks with uniformed policemen in the mix, all of this in less than 2 feet of water. If you don’t know the context of the photos, it looks fairly ridiculous. When you do, it is terrifying.

March 2009. We’ve just finished Black History Month and are now in Women’s History Month and are staring down a Legislative term which includes bills on Civil Unions, Gay Adoption, and Hate Crimes. Rallies are planned, lobbies are scripted and the bravest among us are converging in Tallahassee to turn the tide once more.

It’s warming up. Dawn and I will soon be spending oodles of time at the beach with 4 brilliant and curious children, 2 of which are bi-racial. This season will be different for me. The pictures will show an unlikely family paying homage at hallowed ground, a battleground. And I will marvel more at the whiteness of the sand and the green of the water and the blue of the sky. I will revel in Dawn’s energy and be grateful for my children’s innocence. And the song that will be playing over and over in my head is “Wade in the Water. Wade in the Water, Children. Wade in the Water. God’s gonna trouble the Water.”

The Great Debate

Dawn and I have an ongoing debate about how, when and to whom we tell about the nature of our relationship. I want to tell everyone. Right Now. Here are my arguments -

1. If Dawn were a boy, I wouldn’t hesitate to say “husband.” Why should I not refer to her as “wife” or “partner”?

2. I don’t want to get in any deeper than necessary with bigots. I like to get the lesbian revelation out of the way in a new relationship, be it with a new friend or a new business associate or a doctor or anyone else. If the new person is a bigot, I want to know right away.

3. The children. I want to protect the children as much as possible.

Time out: This is where I don't trust you to remember to click on my paying gig, so I'm going to help you. That was the tease. This is the remainder of the article.

Conversation On The Way Home From School

William: What does a purple flag mean? Purple flag at beach?

Me: It means there are dangerous animals in the water.

William: Like jellyfish.

Me: Yes.

William: And stingrays.

Me: That's right.

William: And dragons.

Me: Dragons?

Faith: Yes. Some people believe there are dragons and monsters in the sea, but I don't.

William: Well, I do.

Ray: Roaaaaaaaaarrrrr!

Semi-Legitimate Gig

I jumped around like a monkey long enough and someone noticed. They gave me a gig. I'll be writing 3 -4 articles a week. I get paid depending on how many hits I get and how long each person stays there and how many repeat readers and how many newcomers and how many republicans and how many brunettes and how many wonderful and supportive friends I can get to click on it.

I'm so sorry to say that you'll be shamelessly reminded almost daily to give a bitch a click.

Thanks, Chickas!

http://www.examiner.com/x-4654-Pensacola-Gay-Parenting-Examiner

Stolen Idea

I found a new friend, Dena, at the Normanist Theory. (Read her. She’s in my list of blogs that I follow.) I’m borrowing her idea for this post. I was struck by her, “To my eight year-old self.” Storm is 8, so that is probably a good part of why I find this so intriguing.

Normally, I shun this line of thinking. I’m of the opinion that if you are happy where you are today, then you can’t think that you should have done anything differently. Even the smallest change in your earlier life could drastically change your present. (Think Back to the Future.) I am deliriously happy with my little life and my little family and my little house, so if pressed for an answer to, “If you had it to do over again, what would you do differently?”, I’d have to say, “Not one damn thing.”

So for the purpose of this list, I’m alleging that my eight year-old self will totally ignore my current 30 year-old self. Having known myself when I was eight, this is probably true anyway.

1. In September of your ninth grade year, you’re going to find yourself at the top of a staircase holding a huge stack of Cds. Put them down and hold onto the railing.

2. You know that boy, Harrison at your school? Be nice to him. He’s going to love you.

3. Don’t follow a boy to college. Go somewhere worthy of you, and when you get there, go to class. Everyday. Rain, sleet, hangover, just go.

4. Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Tell the truth.

5. Spend more time outside. Take the books with you if you must.

6. Don’t worry about your body. Days are soon coming when you will hate it. Cry about it if you have to, but don’t worry. It all works out.

7. Ask questions. Even when it seems silly or you feel stupid.

8. You shouldn’t worry about sharks so much. Educate yourself, but don’t be afraid. I’m 30, remember? No shark attacks, yet.

9. Don’t smoke. It’s not cool. It is disgusting. And Dawn hates it.

10. Who’s Dawn? Oh. In December of 2004, you’re going to go to a Christmas party just around the corner from your house. There’s going to be a woman wearing a red scarf. Memorize her. Don’t let yourself forget anything about this night.

HELP!

Please help me! Some Dirty Percy posted a yucky link in my comments. It has to go away. I gave this blog address to my new employer (it's a writing gig). I cannot have her thinking that I'M a Dirty Percy. How do I delete it?

Dawg - I'm counting on you here. I know you have computer skills and surely vast experience in dealing with DPs. Please help me!


Update: Jude! My hero! Thank you! Thank you! That was very easy and I feel like a moron for not noticing that little garbage can before.

Memorial Day Weekend in Pensacola Beach

March is here, so it's time to start making plans for Memorial Day. Big Pride festival. Big. Big like the-population-of-our-town-doubles big. Anybody coming?

How could you not? We have the most beautiful beaches in the world, and for 4 or 5 days they'll be covered with lesbians. When I went for the first time, a friend of a friend said, "Yeah come on. Wear a top and boardies." I had no idea what she was talking about. "You know, a bikini top and board shorts, like surfing shorts." I told her I didn't have any boardies. Blair said, "You're going to want to get some. I mean, it's a beach full of lesbians. Know what I mean?" As it turned out, "a top and boardies" did seem to be the official uniform.

Nightlife, however, requires a funny or crass t-shirt. Here's a few of my favorites.

"To do list. 1 - Your Mother. 2 - Your Sister."

"Excuse me boys, we've come for your wives."

"The feminist agenda is not about equal rights for women. It is about a socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians." -Pat Robertson

"I love Spicy Tuna."

"If you disagree with Gay Marriage, don't have one."

"Yes, we are and No, you can't watch."

I think I've settled on mine for the year. It says, "Nerdy Girls Make Me Hot." If Dawn would let me post her picture, it would make sense.

Here is my first and most important suggestion. Book now! The beachside hotels fill up quickly. The Hilton is really nice and the Comfort Inn is really convenient. You can also try VRBO.com. That stands for Vacation Rentals by Owner. We've found some really great deals there. If you stay in Pensacola proper instead of at the beach, you have to get to the beach pretty early in the day because they'll close the bridge if it gets too crowded over there.

More advice to follow as the schedule of events is released.

Just Kidding

It's 34 degrees today. Damnit!