Is it a full moon or what?

In the last couple of days, after a few weeks of general progress, various of my clients have done things like this: purposefully get fired from a good job, wait to pay an excize tax until it is three times the original bill, wait until the rent is more than a week overdue to tell me s/he has no money, disappear for a week without explanation, and get incarcerated for assault and battery with a dangerous weapon. What the hell is going on? Also, somehow the request for a reservation at our honeymoon spot in Toronto did not go through, and we've got a whole online registry of stuff to do with the trip (lodging, dinners for two, tickets to the CN Tower and Bata Shoe Museum, etc.) If somebody up there is trying to tell me something, I'm not getting it. Yeesh!
Also, in case you were wondering, I updated the "bridal fray" post below with a brief synopsis of the event.

YMCA love

One of my primary motivations for going back to the gym (having been an on-again-off-again exercizer for years) was my line. Not so much the weight control or the warding off of the heart disease that riddles my family history like a Shel Silverstein poem, but my line. I have a special line down my middle that defines itself when I'm exercizing and I love it. After just two trips to the YMCA I have it again! Woo! That's the good part. The not-so-good? I reach my "target heart rate" for cardio exercizing at a speed of just 3.7 miles per hour- that's like a brisk walk. Not a power walk, but an it's cold out and I'm trying to get someplace warm a few blocks away kind of walk. That was an unpleasant surprise. A pleasant surprise, though, was the strength-training circuit with two machines just made for somebody who has to wear a strapless dress with corset-lace-ups in six months but can't even do a chin-up. `Love that place. Just love it.

I couldn't resist...

Into the bridal fray.

Tonight I'm going to Boston to stay over at my friend's future-in-laws' house, and in the morning we will be joining the chaos at the Filene's Basement annual "Running of the Brides" event. Now, I'm not one for the commodification and equation of brides with cattle, but there really are some great deals on great wedding dresses there. A couple of friend's of ours went to the event two years ago and a vicious bride stole my friend's dress right out from under her nose, put it on in a flash, and then wouldn't take it off. We're going to have to be vigilantes tomorrow. Grr. Don't mess with the Page-a-nator and her entourage! Since I have some kind of a morbid fascination with participating in this spectacle at least once, I'm very excited to be going and hopefully helping my friend Page find the dress of her dreams. `Until tomorrow!

---update---

Mayhem. The "Running of the Brides" epitomizes the word and I have never seen such craziness in my life. Wow. We got in line at 5 AM, and though we were pretty happy with our spot in line, there were quite a few ahead of us who had been waiting at the doors since 3 and 4 AM. The really early, dedicated ones had things like matching t-shirts, some with puff paint saying what size and style they were looking for, pink felt tiaras, and walkee-talkees. We were at the first entrance, and many more were at the second. When the doors opened on either side of the bridal room at 8 AM, the place was filled with the sounds of running, trampling, dress-bag-grabbing, and shrieking. Lots of shrieking. No joke, they had every dress off the racks in under two minutes. Hundreds of dresses. No time to look for what you want, you just grab as many dresses as you can possibly carry and hold on! Then you drag them over to your bride who has hopefully snagged a mirror and started stripping to her skivvies to claim it, drop the dresses and get dressing. All the dresses she doesn't want are your collateral for trading, a complex and delicate process as the trader searches the huge mess for the ones the bride likes. Two more in the entourage have jobs solely because of the if-you're-not-touching-it-it's-up-for-grabs mentality- One person must sit on the pile of dresses the bride hasn't tried on, yet, and another must hold onto the "yesses" and "maybes" as she tries on more dresses, to make sure nobody steals them. I think we were successful, despite our relatively small number, and our bride bought two dresses and is pretty sure of the one she will wear. The other should be up for sale, soon. Whew.

"Sons of old Massachusetts, Devoted daughters true,

Baystate, ol' Baystate,
We'll give our best to you.
Thee, our Alma Mater,
We'll cherish for all time.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Massachusetts, yours and mine."
– Fred D. Griggs (Class of 1913)

I got my diploma in the mail today! Yay! I did a little hoopla-happy-dance by the mailbox when I saw it- I was told not to expect it at least until next month. Icing on the cake? I had no idea I was graduating "Cum Laude" until I saw the diploma. Then I called my mom to soak up a little parental approval- I'm still a sucker. Not that this is going to buy me points for very long- my oldest sister, whose shoes I will never ever fill, is graduating with her PhD in May. Mom says it will be a "joint graduation party". Uh-huh. I'm ok with it. ;)

A lesbian in the library.

Having recently moved to the area, I was very excited to sign up for my card at the local library, and the first book that I checked out was For Lesbian Parents: Your Guide to Helping Your Family Grow Up Happy, Healthy, and Proud. Rarely in my life have I had flashbacks of anything, but this time, holy moly I was suddenly 15 again! If you've read this little story before, feel free to skip it- you see, my high school had a little curriculum and book selection problem. The Health class text had only one paragraph about gays and lesbians, which was basically a definition and nothing more. Desperately looking for more information in the midst of my six-year bout of rediculously self-destructive internalized homophobia, I went to the school library, but only found one book that had anything to do with my issue, and it was a novel. Annie on My Mind is the story of two high school girls several decades ago who fall in love and then all kinds of terrible things happen (of course, fictional lesbians can't ever have a happy story, right?) I wanted to check the book out, but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I didn't want the librarian to see that I was doing so because she might think I was gay. So, every day in between periods, I would sit on the floor in the back corner of the back row of stacks and read as much as I could, then stick the tiniest piece of paper in my place and put it back. I think I read the whole thing in about 2 or 3 weeks, but it was always full of anxiety for fear that someone would see me. Flash back to the present where I am now trying to decide if I can finally go to the librarian and check out a book that says "For Lesbian Parents" in giant purple letters on the front. I did it, but it really seemed to me as if I were seeing my high school library around me rather than the one I was in. Of course, it was uneventful. She scowled some (maybe I'm projecting, maybe not) and checked the book out for me. I just brought it back today, having finished it, and I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but darn it, I think it's a milestone!

Goodbye, Rita.

Today I took the plates off my poor old car, released her to the insurance company, and said my goodbyes. My lovely Rita, the little Corolla that could, is off to car heaven. I know it's only a car, after all a mechanical object that doesn't love me back, but I'm feeling pretty low right now at having to let it go. She really treated me well. That picture there is almost my last evidence that Rita and I once shared the open road.

Way back there in the sea of shoes...

is me in the Sketchers outlet in Maine last fall, basking in the joy that is (J buying me) new shoes. Definitely the highlight of the trip. Just this past Sunday she bought a new pair for me- sneakers- as incentive to go to the YMCA now that we have the membership. Since you have to have clean sneaks that you only use at the gym in order to use it at all, this means I will only be able to wear my new Sketchers if I go to the... hey! This is a trick! Oh alright, alright already, I'll go. Hmph.

More joy!

So elated for beautiful baby and mommies over at Name That Mama! Gosh, I just can't contain myself- yay! I confess- I am now a total wannabe.

The catch is...

that the great stuff is often followed by crappy stuff. I just had a car accident. And it's fine because nobody was hurt, and it wasn't my fault, and the other driver's insurance company is going to pay for my damage, but still. Damn. The mechanic says they'll probably total my car. It doesn't look that bad! But the airbags did go off, and apparently those are about $1000 a piece, plus the front end damage (she cut me off, dammit) is going to come to more than my perfect little 1995 Corolla is worth on the books. But I love that car (her name is Rita). Love her a lot. Never gave me a problem, ran like a queen, and wore my lovely bumper stickers so gracefully! It doesn't look like Rita is going to be in the family much longer, though. Phooey.

What's the catch?

This is supposed to be difficult, right? Because this guy is just so darn perfect for the job. Great. Fabulous. So far as I can tell, of course, and it was a great conversation despite my nervous self blabbering nonsense the whole time (I was thinking while talking "what is this crap coming out of my mouth?") Still, he wants to talk to us again on Sunday and set up a date for us to go visit him and his family, meet and talk some more, and then DECIDE. I think this is good. Really, really good. And the tarot card I pulled before talking to this fab PKD? The one about birth with the picture of a baby on it. I'm just sayin'...

Eek! Almost time!

Funny how this sort of thing can make one really nervous- will this person like me? Like us? It makes me feel a bit like I'm waiting in line to be picked for kickball teams in the elementary school playground, just hoping not to get picked last. Never mind all of the other stuff that would have to be right in order for it to work out. Hm. Trying not to put too much into it- it's just a conversation about something that might never happen. During which I have to be able to use words like "insemination" when speaking with a total stranger. That's all. Breathe in, breathe out, etc.

PKD Jeopardy

We're talking with our PKD (potential known donor) tomorrow night over the phone, and this will be our first opportunity to really ask him a ton of questions and find out whether or not we're all on the same page. I have a few ideas of what we should ask, but I thought I'd pick your brains, too. So. What would you ask a PKD?

Cryptonite for Bridezilla

What is the thing that can turn Bridezilla into a crazy, weepy, heart-attacking mess? Reading the new "banquet policy" at her reception site and seeing that after her first 3 hours, the next two hours are $500 each, and she cannot go over 5 hours. Since she doesn't have an extra grand and intends to dance into the night, this leads her to believe that she will be having a church-basement reception instead of her amazing, romatical, jazzy party at her favorite restaurant and site of their first date. Oy!
After calling her, though, the manager blessedly informed me that the new charges do not apply to us since we reserved the space before the new policy and that since it's an evening reception, there's no time limit. Bless her. Bless her little heart! I am now going to commence weeping, from relief this time.

The latest reason I love being a UU.

A Unitarian Universalist, that is. Last Sunday during the service, one of the members told the congregation a little anecdote about her daughter. Some time ago, she and her 7-year-old daughter were passing through downtown Northampton, in front of the society, and the little girl saw two white limousines pull up to the church and two brides get out, and she got all excited exclaiming something like "Mom! That's just what I always imagined! Our church has two aisles made for two brides!" Apparently she couldn't stop talking about it. Yeah. That's our church.

Doing a jig for our photographer.

He's great! We went to meet our photographer, Stephen Eis, today and saw lots of his work and talked about our wedding and what we need for photography, and he was so nice and well-informed and a totally awesome businessman. My favorite part is that we get to contract for his time now (and pay a deposit on that, his least expensive package) and if we want an album package after seeing our pictures (rather than doing it ourselves) we can pay the balance then. Which gives us 6 weeks after the wedding to save. Which means... I get my album! Yay!

Oh, those pesky little laws...

Anybody want to share what you have done legally to protect your family, spouse, kids, kids-to-be, etc.? I'm excited about this KD possibility, but my enthusiasm kind of snuck up on me- this is not something I considered much before, so I'm feeling clueless about the laws. I know donor contracts are not always recognized by courts, varying from state to state and from judge to judge, and I reeeeally don't want to wind up in a big visitation/custody battle. I've read (vaguely) of a KD getting awarded basically joint custody even though he signed a donor contract clearly stating the limited contact he would be allowed. So, I like our PKD, and this is not a commentary on him, but I really don't know him, either, not to mention things change bigtime once a baby is on the scene, and I'd like to be careful. So, I'm interested to know any legal differences between going just with a donor contract, going through a "directed donor" process at the sperm bank (which now seems like it will be impossible, since the FDA banned gay men from donating, unless that doesn't apply to "directed donors"), and going through a doctor? The last of which leads me to more questions, about insurance, since the language in our policy manual seems to suggest that our company will not cover any inseminations by a doctor unless one of us turns out to be "medically infertile". It makes me wonder if my doctor could write "bodily aversion to male gonads" on the treatment referral form? I don't think so, and we would really like a gay donor (that the FDA is currently oppressing), so that leads us essentially back to the plain old donor contract. Ack! Anybody have two cents for the cup? Or more questions?

All I can say is...

PKD

;)

I'll say more later...


---updated---
I had to rush to get to work this morning, so I couldn't write much, but after getting our latest message from our PKD (I can't believe I get to use the phrase "our PKD"!!!) I wanted to say something.
So, he's not someone we know, but rather someone who wants to be a KD for another couple. I like him so far for several reasons. I don't want to put too much weight on this, yet, as we seriously need to get to know him better, but I like that he does not want to co-parent, that he lives a ways away (but still within a driveable distance), that he's gay, that he already has a partner and son, and that he seems pretty darn enthusiastic! So, that's all for now, really. This will take a while to work on, and if PKD turns into KD, I will be post-crazy!
I'm totally in love with the song I first heard on the radio after we first talked with our PKD about it, the new single "Conceived" by Beth Orton. Is that a fabulous omen or what? You can listen to the whole song from her website.