I got some new chickens. They are Kourtney, Kim, Klhoe, and Rob. Along with Kate, the last chicken standing, they are the Kardashian-Olsens. Kate doesn’t seem to like them very much. Or, at least she is very busy squawking at them. Not to busy to lay eggs, though, for which I am grateful. Chickens are sort of a pain, but buying eggs is bullshit.
Inspired by my recent visit to Indigo House, I put up some tomatoes. It was really a great deal I happened onto. See, the nice lady at my CSA has been too busy growing tomatoes to can any of her own, so she gave me about a million tomatoes and I did the canning and we will split the jars. Perfect, yes? Yes.
I used ye olde internetz and found these guys, whose canning deal looked do-able, and I dove right in. I have 8 pint jars of Juliets, which are like romas, and 8 quart jars of some other sort of tomato. It really wasn’t that hard, although I did have to reprocess a few jars whose seals were for shit. I am pretty proud. I am also hopeful that I don’t give my nice farmer family botulism. As a side note, I’ve discovered, given my n of 3 (me and those two nice guys in the above link), that gay people like to can tomatoes. Also, we like to drink beer and eat chinese food.
Summer is ending. Now, don’t think for a minute I had the summer off. The mortgage still has to be paid. So I did a little summer camp and it was fine. Only until noon, which is almost like not work. And only six weeks, so I could return to the classroom refreshed. Re. Freshed. Or something. Anyway, I went to school for a bit yesterday, to tidy a little for the parent meeting that was scheduled for the evening and I ended up hauling around a bunch of furniture. All new in September, kids! Well, it would be all new to them anyway, since they are so small. It’s not done yet by a long shot, but I think I’ve made for an easy work week for me and cho-girl.
And to round out this all about me post (really, are there any post that are not all about me?), I have my annual summer spider bites. Oozy and itchy. There’s no picture. You’re welcome.
Just don’t do it in a way that promotes hate.
From Tom at Jesus Has Two Daddies.
Here I am. Just back from …. birth class. No, no. I’m not knocked up. I’m taking it for my doula certification. You’ll remember, you old timers, you, that I took a weekend long doula training class. And it was great. And birth work is great, what I can do of it – teaching sort of gets in the way of being on call for births. Having taken the training, but not completed the certification process, I can attend births, but I cannot claim to be a “certified” doula. To be certified, I have to write up six births I’ve attended and take a birth education class, in addition to other things I’ve already done. Well, a friend is offering a free birth education class, so I figured I’d take it and be all the closer to certified.
And it’s great. Yep. Great. Full of interesting information and well balanced with regards to intervention-heavy vs. intervention-free birth.
And it’s hard to sit through – writing a birth plan or visualizing my cervix opening like a flower seems rather akin to prodding an almost healed puncture wound with a chopstick.
And it’s straight. Yes, friends, you’d think I’d know at this point that coupled, straight people have babies and most of them have no real, true idea that I exist. Nobody’s mean, or hateful, or anything like that. It’s simply as if they have *no idea* single mothers, or lesbians, or any other differently familed people might be giving birth, too.
Do we even know each other? It’s been so long….
Just kidding. I know you’ve been bouncing in your collective seats, biting your collective nails, wondering wtf is happening in Starrhill. There’s nothing so exciting as the news from here.
In no particular order:
- nothing – for real, nothing. It’s summer and that’s how we roll around here. I’ve been taking care of various children to pay the bills and sitting on the porch with drinks and generally doing nothing.
- small skunk sighting – not a baby and not an adult, but cute. Also surprising enough to make me jump. And cute enough to make me think of Pepe Le Pew and worry for my little girl kitten, who does look a good bit like the little black cat Pepe’s always after.
- vacation – woo and hoo! I haven’t had a real vacation in years. Years, I tell you. The gf and I went up north, stopping at her folks’ in LI and then on to Western Mass for a wedding (as a side note, the officiant made a very low-key and lovely comment at the start of the ceremony about how marrige is a right and that we hope soon it will be in everyone’s reach – warmed my little gay heart), which is totally at the top of my weddings-attended list. Then post fab-wedding weekend (yes, it was a whole weekend, yes it was *fab*) we went back to LI/NYC. There was beach time, there was boat time, there was city time. We ate more Korean food than you can shake a stick at. The gf’s mama gave me a skirt. And some beach glass. I got to see the gf drive a boat and yes,it was a hot as you might thing. I slept late and got tan.
- I haz an air conditioner in my bedroom. Some people are more, shall we say “sensitive” to the heat. Oh, the things you do for love.
- not pregnant – again. And then again! *sigh* And, yes, this has been the blight of my summer. If I had gotten knocked up, or if I were not ttc, this summer could be labeled as One Of The Best Times Of My Life. But no. TTC fucks everything up. Don’t let me discourage you, though.
- RE visits – see above. RE visits with company, and by company I mean the gf. Yes, Clem, I’ve changed her name, just for you. I’ll remind y’all again that my RE is the best RE: full of science and stories and willing to explain any and everything he does *and* immediately and totally inclusive of the gf – asides to be sure she understood terms like ICSI and full eye-contact and hand shakes and generally just being great. Keep in mind accompanying me on RE visits holds no additional meaning for us. So don’t jump to any conclusions – yes, I’m talking to you. And you. And, yes, you, too. Good lord, y’all.
- drugs – not recreational ones. Just my old friend Femara. You might remember that The Pregnancy That Wasn’t occurred sans meds and so I opted to continue trying without them once I got back on the horse January last. Oh dreams of un-assisted conception, how far and hard you fall. Anyway, yeah, I’ve given up on that shit. Western medicine. Bring it.
- the peeps – um, well, ah…. things have changed with the peeps. They are big now, as you might guess. I almost don’t recognize them in those pictures from a few months ago. So, ah, the other thing is that both those peeps turned out to be roosters. Ha. One of them started crowing and getting rather aggressive and so I passed him on to a friend in the country. He eventually got eaten by a dog but he had a good run at country life for a few weeks before that. Before his passing, but after his exile from Starrhill, I bought 3 more peeps off of Craigslist. All girls. They are blue laced Wyandottes we like to call Mary, Kate and Ashley. And, yes, you counted right. There is still one of the Original Peeps here in Starrhill. We like to call him Lola. I would end up with genderqueer chickens.
- IVP visit – Woo and Hoo! We squeezed in a visit with Jude and her fab and adorable fam. They are fab and, yes, I pretty much love Northhampton, like the good lesbian I am.
- June visit with my cousin – woo! She’s big now. It was like a real adult visit. I heart her.
- the gf – yes, I know some of you are stalking me just because of her legs. I see you over there, hoping for another picture of her in shorts. Sad to say, my camera is broken. Anyway, it’s pretty damn good these days, y’all. Blissful and lovely for here, please.
- work – what work? (Ok, I am looking forward to it just a little bit, as cho-girl is coming to teach with me again.)
- fermenting – so far I’ve got pickles and sauerkraut and radishes under my belt. Some are more successful than others. Also plum jam from plums the gf and my roommate scavenged from the tree by the school. I’m sure there will be more putting up in the next weeks as I try to hang on to whatever summer I can.
It’s time for a nap after lunch (leftover fritta with leeks and zucchini from the farm, maybe some peaches). Log your lunch. I’ve missed you.
Miscarriages are fascinating and all, but damn, there are bigger fish to fry.
Now, here in Virginia it will be a long time coming before we get any sort of gay marriage anything happening, but the folks in Cali have got it going on. For now.
I’d bet that anybody who reads Caved is already in full on support of letting love happen between whoever is lucky enough to feel it, but you can still stand up and speak for what’s right, just like my mama taught me. Tell your people in California to vote no on Prop 8.
Taking folks’ rights away is bullshit. Don’t stand for it. Pass the word and pass it again: No on Prop 8 in California.
Don’t forget today is the National Day of Silence.
Peace to Larry King and all the rest.
Friday, April 25th is the National Day of Silence.
Now, I trust LesbianDad will do some amazing post on this (if she doesn’t you can just go back through her archives and read pretty much anything), so I’ll keep it short.
I’ll make note of the day in my class. Treating everyone with kindness and compassion and respect is at the base of the whole Montessori philosophy and, even in my class of 2 year olds, we’ll take a moment to be silent and then talk briefly about being kind to everyone, about listening and about just how important those 2 things are. My kids are two – I’m not going to ask them to be silent all day, nor am I interested in introducing them to some of the horrible things people can do to each other, and maybe creating silence in our classroom for a few moments will mean something only to me. But I cannot let the pain of other folks pass me by with out taking note: you gay kids who’ve suffered bullying and fights and even death, I see you. I see you.
What are you going to do?
Let’s get the business out of the way first – I think my insems were too early. Although I did have ovulation twinges this afternoon, so who the hell knows. Oh, well. While this was Teh Last of Teh Last, it was also the Throw Away Insem, the one that probably wouldn’t work. But whatever, I’ll take my prometrium like a good girl and we’ll see what happens.
Last night, I went out. Woo! Out! The Athens Boys Choir and Katastrophe were playing a free (free!) show just down the road from me and as I love, love, love Katz, I was all over it. It seems they did a Trans 101 workshop (also free!) that afternoon. Yay. I missed it, but yay. Both these kids are cute as buttons and said all the right things and had a gaggle, yes, a gaggle, of little femme girls right up in front of the stage squealing over them (it was kind of like Elvis only these bois are cuter). By said all the right things, I mean that their songs and poems spoke true and clear and funny and sad and all the things you might feel in your life. Katz spoke briefly about the horrifying statistics on hate-crimes against queers in general and trans folks in particular and again, he said all the right things. That is, he didn’t say much, he simply named some of the people, some of the kids, who’ve been killed recently and told us, instructed us, to remember them, to say their names. He had a poem about them, “Queer Revolution,” a litany of sorts, with slides – pictures and names, lest we forget. There’s not space enough for me to list all the names, nor, sadly, do I even know them all, but you can go here to remember, to have names to speak so that we will not forget them. And then, on a lighter note, he finished up with my all time fave, “Tranny Got Pack.” Well, maybe my fave is the Waffle House one….. sooooo hard to decide. (That’s a music link, so watch your volume if you’re at work or worried about loudness.)
So Katz was great and he’s really what drew me to the show, but the bonus prize was Rocco (he introduced himself to me when I bought a CD from him – sqeee! (Lord.)). So um, yeah, I spent the whole show thinking how familiar he looked and how I knew the name Katastrophe from *somewhere*….. and then after I got home and read the liner notes with the CD (10 pages!) I remembered. Michelle Tea’s partner. Yeah. I am behind the times. Anyway, he was great. So great that my friend D, who’s a nice gayboy, said, as he climbed up next to me on one of the pillars for a better view, “oh my god! I have the hots for a tranny!” We speculated that he’d have to fight off the gaggle of femme girls to get to his new crush. In honor of the show, D wore his Lesbian Clothes – a tie and a zip-up hoodie. Adorable. He looked just like a lesbian. Good job, D.
Nothing like some hot trans men talking about social justice and peace and feminism to make you remember what it’s all about. MySpace links here and here. And, yes, I have a little celebrity crush. *sigh* But honest, y’all, they’re so good.
Also, I got a new, big girl couch this weekend, thanks to the KP. This meant, among other things, that my roommate and I had to quite literally break the frame of the futon I had been using as a couch so we could get it up stairs so she could use it as a bed. In retrospect, this is funny. Moving furniture sucks. But woo! Big girl couch!
In other news, I booked tickets to go to New York for a smidge during spring break. I was ambivalent about going – I want to see my friends up there really bad, but it’s sort of expensive, I’m not sure how to deal with cat care now that one of the cats is deaf and another still has some – ah – bowel issues, and the usual – I kind of love to be at home more than anything. But then I was looking for some old emails I’d written about school and I came across one I’d sent to Z the Ex from back in 2004 when I must have been up there for some Montessori related thing and then I totally wanted to go.
Yesterday I saw a magician. I was on the train, going from Ian’s back to
Williamsburg, and I was tired and feeling weird (what’s new) and I’d finished
my book so there was nothing to do but sit there. As we were whizzing along under
the river, a magician came clanging in from the next car. He had a little
folding metal stand with big loud metal bells on it and a black case that he
pushed in front of him and a nice black top hat. He was mumbling loudly in
Spanish and so, in spite of my heritage, I understood nothing. He set up shop
right in the middle of the train, swinging the black case up onto the metal
stand and arranging all sorts of implements on it. He tried to get this one guy
to hold his magic wand for him, it was pink lucite, I think, but he refused.
Then all the other people he tried shook their heads, too. It was so sad. But
then this guy sitting across from me agreed to hold the magic wand and tap on
the special magic box and so the show could begin. I got to open the magic drawer
in the special magic box and a small furry animal popped out and I jumped. Then
he did all sorts of other tricks, like making soap bubbles turn into giant
marbles and then popping the marbles or making a girl’s purple lacy panties drop
to the floor and then trying to give them to the guy across from me. In
addition to finding the small furry animal (maybe it was a mink?), I got to
hold the magic wand and tap on a small metal dish that was upside-down and then a
dove flew out from under it. Amazing. And then he was done. He collected
some money and packed up his case and rattled on to the next car, all in the space
of 2 stops, before we got to Graham Ave.
I walked home and stopped by the liquor store, feeling much better.
You know you wanted to relive that 10 minutes on the L train with me. So I’ll be in New York for a smidge in April. Who’s around?
Remember when I hit you up for pictures of your kids? Yes, you do. Well, here’s the result. If you want to know how the lobbying went down, Chicory has her usual dead-on take up for your perusal. There’s some folks over in Utah who are busting their collective asses to make things right for their kids. For all of our kids. See, even in February, you can hang onto some hope.
(Click the picture in Keri’s blog to enlarge and see if you can find kids you know. Sophie’s in there, sticking her tongue out, right under the W.)
moar funny pictures
And for Chicory:
Check out this and this and then send in your cutest pictures of your kids. What’s not to love about this deal? Show off your kid anonymously, help change stupid, stupid laws. Ideal.
(You can send pics to me – firstname.lastname@example.org – if you’d rather.)