Marriage is Safe

Yesterday, Massachussets did the right thing.

It's a good day when sanity and compassion trumps fear. There's all sorts of reasons I have problems with people who are against gay marriage - political, historical, personal reasons.

But the soft and squishy reason that I support the right for gays to marry is this -- the world is in desperate DESPERATE need of more love. However, whoever, whenever, wherever people try to express that love.

Compassionate. Christian. Conservative. REALLY?

The other night, I was listening to (gulp) Bill O'Reilly's radio program. (I'd already heard that day's OnPoint and Mitt Romney managed to get AirAmerica off the air in Boston....)

The topic was the immigration bill and whether or not it can hold onto its rapidly faltering support. A caller from southern Texas weighed in:

"I was in my truck, parked in a rest stop, and some illegal came up to my window looking for some water. Well, I didn't give him any water, but I sure as heck called immigration services on him."

Wow.

U Pick Peas

Today was my first pick-up from my CSA. It officially started last week, but I was in transit from Minneapolis.

Today's distribution included a "U Pick Peas" share. I got to walk through the farm, walk along the rows of planted vegetables, with all all their bugs, mud, flowers, and vines.

The clouds were heavy and low. The wind (not a breeze) was blowing. The ground was muddy and my feet were still hurting.

Still, I was happy.

I honestly believe that the Earth could heal herself of all her ills if only we'd go away. But, since we're here, I think we should use every chance we've got to revel in the infinite beauty that is snap peas hanging on the vine, waiting to be plucked.

Handing In My Feminist ID Card

Sunday night, to celebrate the Tony Awards, I painted my toenails green. If you don't understand the reference, well, you just haven't seen enough Cabaret.

My toenails made me happy. Big smiles ensued.

And yesterday, anticipating a rough day, I wore cute little strappy shoes which showed off my happy feet to full advantage.

The only problem is, cute little strappy shoes are not so good for the walking.

I forgot I had a lunch date about 15 blocks away. When I realized that I did, I basically attempted to run the entire distance. In cute little strappy shoes.

I have blisters on both sides of both feet - big toes, and little toes. I have cuts around the back side of my ankles. I even have a blood blister on the bottom of one big toe.

It took me almost 30 minutes to hobble back to the office. I was one building away when I ran into my friend, Braba. Braba is the antithesis of the girly girl. Not that she doesn't appreciate a fine woman in a fine dress. But catch her in one? Never!

She took one look at me and asked, "What the **** is wrong with you?" I'm sure I looked like QuasiMoto. I explained the cute little strappy shoe issue.

"Then why the **** did you wear them, if you can't walk in them?"

"But... look how good my toenails look."

Do I even need to tell you the look I got?

Dostoevsky

I had a lot of head clearing to do this weekend. Not only was there the fun and games with Mr. Zips which, after a two-hour, very late night phone call still needs to be worked through but at least we've determined that we want to work it through. But Thursday night the wonderful Peeps decided to play catch with my mobile phone, knocking it into a useless oblivion. And then, Friday, Napolean (shocking!) pulled a passive-aggressive move on me and in my fabulous state of mind, I flew off the handle and wound up swearing and slamming doors. (I'm sure that will come back to haunt me in my annual review...)

So, yeah, it was a rough week. To rejuvinate from it, I went on a lot of long walks this weekend. It was definitely nice to see my neighborhoods leisurely, all of the kids out playing basketball in their driveways, moms & dads weeding or washing cars, older folks hanging out on their porches drinking coffee and tea. Sometimes, it's really nice to live in a quiet, bedroom community.

On one of my rambles, I noticed a bunch of white spraypaint graffiti on mailboxes and walls. One word, repeated over and over. "Dostoevsky."

What?

Why would someone tag "Dostoevsky" in the middle of Watertown, MA? What is the state of mind of the late-night, drunken teenager that s/he wants to invoke the name of the Russian existentialist novelist? Why "Dostoevsky" and not, say, "Green Day?"

Every time I feel like I'm standing on the ledge of sanity, have had a rough week and I'm ready to pull my hair out, I see something that reminds me I'm probably not as bad off as I thought.