I found this an interesting comment.

I didn’t realize that there was a limited supply of lesbians and we needed to ration them for the “real lesbians.”  Is “Bi-Sexual Discrimination” the next marginalized group that we need to educate the people in our community (along with the Transgendered.)  Do we need a reminder of what the letters in GLBTQIAA stand for?

Let’s all get along people.  Really–our fight for equality needs to be united–not further divided.  Aren’t the religious right and the Republicans enough to do battle with?  Do we have to battle each other as well?  Let’s not.

From what I could see on the Ask Joanne support board–there were a lot of women from a lot of different situations who were in need of support.  Some of them were married to men and had girlfriends, some were going through a divorce or divorced and working through custody and other ex-husband issues.  Some of them were involved with women who were married to men.  Some of them may cheat on their taxes or steal their neighbors WiFi–but really–who is anyone else to judge someone who seeks out help and support for their situation?

The commenter also called my “honesty” into question because of my mention of this board and my apparent endorsement of other’s dishonesty.

I believe in truth.  Truth is something that I learned was the way to go a long time ago and I have held on to that lesson since I was a young woman.  Truth may sometimes cause difficulty and messiness, but it is always the best policy.  Lies only add to problems and only are a good idea if someone’s feelings may get hurt, (No, you don’t look fat, that haircut certainly makes you look younger, for sure we’ll get together for lunch, your baby is adorable.)

I don’t believe in infidelity.  I believe in honesty and the fact that I was unfaithful to my former husband is something that I will always regret.  I can take comfort in the fact that I didn’t engage in this behavior for a long period of time and only did it because I was so confused and needed time to figure things out.  I was also honest about my infidelity–I didn’t lie when I was asked about it and was open about my feelings and my situation and where I was.  I wish that I would have thought more of myself and had enough self esteem to be able to stand up for what I needed to do and figure out without being unfaithful to promises I made.  Regrets are useless except for being able to help us to make better decisions in the future.  And I certainly have learned from that situation.

With that said–I still don’t believe in judging another person’s situation or the decisions that they are making.  You can not judge what a person does until you have experienced that exact situation–and even then–you shouldn’t judge.  We are all just people having our own experiences–sometimes intense experiences–and we deserve to be supported and helped along the way. People need to be empowered to make the best decisions that they can–decisions that aren’t destructive but constructive and healthy for everyone involved.

There are a lot of women who consider themselves bi-sexual and have significant relationships with men or are married but still have relationships with women outside of their primary relationship.  This is something between the two people in the relationship and as long as there is open communication and honest–I fail to see how these women are “hiding behind their husbands.”

It is not anyone’s place to hold another person up and judge them for who they are or what they do.  There are many more loving ways to promoted positive decisions and behavior and everyone could benefit from learning a few of those ways.

Everyone is entitled to their opinions–and everyone has them–but it’s important to be cautious with words that are insulting and broad and hurtful.

Let’s be kind, shall we?

Some amazing women have left me their stories on the About You Page. Some send them to me privately, but I am always amazed at the strength and power that is in their stories. If you haven’t read the comments on the About You Page–do.

If you are an RSG and feel comfortable sharing your story with either me privately or in the comment section of that page, please do. It’s an amazing journey and one that most women feel as though they are taking alone.

I was happy to see that some ladies popped over to this site from the Ask Joanne Board.

I haven’t read the posts at length but it looks like a lot of good information for RSG’s and a good resource for ladies who are just discovering where to go from here.

No one is alone–it just may feel like it sometimes. There is always someone near by to hear your pain and lend a hand.

As close as your keyboard.

I’m still blogged down and overwhelmed with deadlines.  I feel as though the little bit of creativity that I have just left me when I finished a writing piece for one of my classes.  The next bit of creativity will be deciding what to make for dinner.

Here’s what I do have.

Gratitude.

I am grateful for my family.  I am grateful for my beautiful and amazing wife who takes care of me every single day.  She gives me everything, does everything, and IS everything to me.  Every day that I look at her I am amazed and in awe of how lucky that I am to have her in my life–loving me and the girls–always there for us–always cherishing us.

Sometimes I don’t feel worthy of the love that she bestows on me.  Sometimes I forget how lucky I am–I get selfish and crazy.  But I always remember and when I look at her or lie in her arms at night I remember and tell her so.

It’s easy to forget how lucky we are and then awful things happen like cyclones and tornadoes and earthquakes in China and a million people get hurt or killed–a million people just like us living our lives and it causes us to stop for a moment and think about how precious and wonderful our lives are.

Life is funny.  Not funny ha-ha all of the time.  Not even some of the time for some people, but life is what it is.  There isn’t always a lot to feel grateful for but there is always something to feel grateful for.

I hope you all find something today and reflect on those things with love in your heart.

Happy Monday.

I’m still ill and tired from my new medicine. HG is about over it I believe but for some reason she sticks around with me. I do cook for her. And put out. Except when I’m nauseated, like now.

The sun is out today, my girls have gone to their dad’s until Sunday. Sunday is Mother’s Day and I will be expected some lavishly made homemade gifts from my girls and a very overpriced dinner out from HG (we couldn’t get brunch reservations.)

I’m blogged down peeps. My brain is empty and my head is light. I guess one would call it Blogger’s Block. So I’ll leave you with this:

Everyone thank their Mom this weekend. Be nice to your mom, or moms as the case may be–including mother’s in-law and out-law. It’s hard to be a mom–sometimes you feel as though all of the energy is being sucked out of your mind, your body, and your soul just for the sake of another person. And your entire life you spend waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen, for some tragedy to occur that may impact your child–you never know what is going to be up ahead and around the corner. You look at your sweet child and wonder how they are going to turn out. You could be raising the next president of the United States or the next serial killer. They come hard-wired and it’s a crap shoot most of the time and the job of mothering never gets any easier. Not ever.

So for one freaking day of the year–be nice to your mom–even if she drives you batty or is a bad cook or hates your significant other or never remembers the details of any conversation that you ever have or hates your hair. Buy her flowers (or an iPod,) and take her out to dinner. And remember, she could have left you in the pumpkin patch for someone else to find!

Happy Weekend!

I once heard that interrogators would use sleep deprivation as a form of torture for prisoners of war. I used to feel as though I was being tortured like this when I had small babies who were up all night wanting my boob or just crying for the heck of it over and over again–every hour–every single night. My babies grew out of all of that (especially the wanting the boob part, thank god,) but I am still reminiscent of those days of being woken up over and over again from time to time.

Like today.

Part of my overhaul has been getting some things looked at medically that I haven’t been able to do for the past few years. The past few years I hadn’t had health insurance and I’ve had to private pay for my doctor’s visit which is prohibitive from having certain things done because of their cost. Now that HG is able to carry me on her insurance–Kaiser is my new best friend and we spend a lot of time together. One of the things in my overhaul has been trying a few different medicines to help with my occasional anxiety and inability to sleep. I’ve already been through one that didn’t work, and I’m on to Plan B. Plan B medicine will be fine I believe when I get used to it–but in the meantime, Plan B medicine makes me completely nauseous and tired. These two things–being tired and nauseous–are two things that are difficult to work into my daily life.

Today, as I nauseatingly drove home from school, I was comforted by the fact that I could lie down in my lounge clothes and take a small nap before the girls came home. Quiet house. I live on a quiet street. It would be great. I snuggled into my bed with my lounge pants and immediately dropped off to napland.

Then the phone rang. Later I found out it was Bill Clinton but I didn’t answer.

I drifted back to sleep and a few minutes later the neighbor walked outside to his car and Abby and Ginger went ballistic barking. I mustered up enough energy to tell them to shut up and went back to sleep.

Then the phone rang again–it was probably Barack Obama this time but he didn’t leave a message.

Then the UPS guy pulled in to the cul-de-sac and Abby and Ginger again went into attack mode.

The girls came home. I quietly explained to them that I didn’t feel well and to do their homework but then . . .

They listened to the phone message and ran upstairs to tell me that Bill Clinton had called and that we should call him back.

A minute later they came in my room again to tell me that DD#3’s fish is dead. I told her I would fish him out of there later–I was too nauseating for a fish funeral.

And then the dog barked again–I think someone checked their mail or something traumatic like that.

And then I gave up and decided to lie here and blog.

I feel like I’ve been in a torture chamber.

And I’m still tired and nauseous.

I don’t know what the military is doing with those prisoners in Abu Ghraib these days but I can tell you what they should do. Give them some pills that make them tired and nauseous and send them to my house for a nap at 2:00 o’clock in the afternoon.

Maybe they can take care of the dead goldfish in my kitchen?

And I go to fancy Galas (pronounced Gay-La,) to which I was invited by some fancy people who do fancy things. LeLo came as my guest and she was beau-ti-ful. She has the photos of us together so you’ll have to visit her to see them when she posts them. The Gala was a fund raiser for Portland Center Stage and a lot of fancy people bid a lot of fancy money on some very fancy things.

LeLo and I watched–which was almost as fun as bidding (but not quite.) Alas, I had forgotten my Amex Black card and could not bid.

There was a lovely cocktail reception and a lovely dinner (Sea Bass) with lovely Oregon wines from Argyle, yum. There was great dinner conversation with smart and interesting people. After the auction and entertainment there was dessert and coffee. And then we were Gala’d out so we left.

Here’s a rundown on the stats of the evening:

Dress: $14.99 from Ross
Shoes: Free. (Borrowed from BFF Neighbor Judy, The Crying Jew)
Hair: $138.00 (including tip)
My Date: The Lovely LeLo (HG would have rather had dental work done than attend this event with me.)
Conversation, Scenery, People and Dress Watching: Priceless

It was a fun time and a great experience and I highly recommend gala-ing anytime you can.

Next Up:  Queer Blogger get together tonight!  Whatever shall I wear??

Tuesday I almost made myself crazy with a list a million miles long of all of the things that I needed to accomplished. I was stressed and crazed and beside myself. The day ended with Thai food celebrating my friend Stacy’s birthday and me falling into bed–completely exhausted. Wednesday I had school which included a mid-term followed by a Dairy Queen milkshake, french fries and a coke while driving to North Portland to see my new Gyno. Amazingly when I got to my new Gyno appointment and the nurse made me get on the scale it said that I gained five pounds. Weird. I have no idea how I’ve gained five pounds. It couldn’t have anything to do with my Dairy Queen french fry, milkshake, and coke diet.

My new Gyno is the sister of a good friend of mine. A good friend that I helped have a couple of babies and who taught my Writing class last term (in which I received an A.) Follow all that? It really wasn’t that weird to have the sister of a good friend of mine feel me up because I’m really not all that modest in the least and I don’t care as long as whomever is doing the feeling up does not have cold hands (she did not.) By the end of my appointment we determined that the best course of action would be for me to have one of the new fancy IUD’s inserted that will virtually stop my period all together–a concept that sounds kind of great to me. We won’t worry about the possible side effects (death) because really as long as I don’t have a period–that’s all that matters. And because I’m a big fat baby–I had to schedule to have this little procedure done because I need pain killers prior-during-and after and because my friend’s sister is a responsible doctor and won’t let me drive after taking Vicodin–I have to wait until HG can drive me. Also I need to get tested for Chlamydia and Gonorrhea beforehand–I’m feeling pretty good about passing those tests.

Today I had to attend seventeen Student-Led-Parent/Teacher Conferences (okay, three) and had to register my friend Cory’s kid for kindergarten (at 8 AM) and take DD#2 to the eye doctor (she needs glasses) and take DD#1 to soccer and pick up DD#2’s friend and take them to the mall and to dinner and sometime tonight I may see HG.

Does anyone feel my pain?

But tomorrow is the weekend. And weekends are good. This particular weekend I will be spending the majority of my time with LeLo because we are very fancy and we are going to a very fancy, fancy Portland social event that is Black Tie. I will not be wearing a Black Tie and neither will LeLo–but we will be looking very spiffy I Am Sure. As a matter of fact–I believe that Lelo may be out shopping as we speak. If you see her tell her that black is good. I am getting my hair done on Saturday–I told my hair stylist that I needed her to make me beautiful–I hope she can work a miracle.

There will be photos.

Maybe one in a rattan chair with a fern–if we can find one. My only other confusion about this event is whether I should buy LeLo a wrist or pin-on corsage. I think either would be lovely as long as it’s done with a color-tipped carnations and a matching bow. I’ll see what the florist has that day.

And all of these events would leave me perfectly calm if only the Scary Suburbs put Xanex in our water supply. Think of how nice and relaxed everyone would be–especially me.

SMB tagged me for a Meme.

The rules of the meme:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

From: The Art of Creative Nonfiction by Lee Gutkind (who is very full of himself if you ask me.

The physicians intimately involved agreed that it sounded right. Bernstein thought that it was right, too, but she could not and would not vouch for the absolute essence of truth.

But if you stand back from the situation and think about it, this makes sense.

This was written in a section called “Who Knows the Whole Truth?” Best to be truthful while writing Creative Nonfiction–otherwise you may lose your advance and be dropped by your publisher.

I’m just sayin’.

I tag my local ladies . . . Melissa Lion, Wendy, Stephanie,

Indy, and Teresa.

The rest of y’all? Have a stress free day, will you?

I remember in the early 1980’s when the controversial Brooke Shield’s Calvin Klein ad came out. You remember the one? I remember my mother having a complete fit–not for moral reasons–but because she felt that is was exploitive to women. Since then advertisers have pushed the envelope as far as they can and every magazine displays hundreds of photographs of scantily clad young, young, young models in sexually explicit poses to sell their clothes.

Celebrities sell themselves and obviously it pays off for them. Miley Cyrus is worth over a billion dollars. A Billion Dollars. With a B. She’s 15 and has more money than most of us could ever imagine having in a lifetime–all for singing some songs and starring in a Disney tv show. I think less than her doing a photo shoot with Annie Liebovitz–the level of wealth that she has is more of an issue. Consumers are fine with handing their money over to her for their cable subscription, concerts, cd’s, and everything Miley that you can buy including clothing, purses, backpacks, books, magazines, and bandaids. Yes, bandaids. But, God forbid she pose for some photographs with a world renowned photographer that may be a little edgy. Teeny-bop-be-bop is valued. Being paid a billion dollars for it is valued. Art is not. Hypocrites. She’s selling–the American consumer is buying but she’s being criticized for selling. All hypocrites.

With all of that said. I need to admit my own issue.

This photo does not bother me as much-

She looks like she just got out of the shower. I don’t care for the lighting but I’m not Annie Liebovitz so what the hell do I know?

THIS photo–however–bothers me-

If it had been done with a 17 year old boy–it probably wouldn’t have bothered me. A fifteen year old girl with a 17 year old boy in a seductive pose is all over billboards and buses everywhere.  Let’s face it, fifteen year old girls are sexual young women and they are used to sell products every day–no one seems to mind so much because we (we, collectively) continue to shop at the stores that advertise in this way.  The fact that this photo is being done with her FATHER is what is bothersome. It’s provocative, it’s sexually charged and it’s with her father.

Amazingly, the only controversy that I have seen is people having a fit about the first photo and not the second.

Am I the only one who finds this odd? And a bit hypocritical.

In other news, it seems that most of the teenage girls (ages 14-17) taken from that whacko fundamentalist Mormon cult in Texas–are either pregnant–or have already given birth to at least one child.

This is a problem people. Annie Liebovitz taking some pictures of 15 year old Miley Cyrus kind of pales in comparison. But let’s all throw a fit about it, shall we?

Let’s be hypocrites because obviously it is what we in America seem to do best.

Short Update:  I wanted to add to some of the commenters that I was not comparing the Brooke Shields ad to this–I was simply showing how as far as advertisers go–they’ve pushed that medium as far as possible.  This is a type of advertising–it’s advertising Miley Cyrus–and is no different than the ads we thumb through every day.

I would also like to agree that it’s infuriating that Miley and her parents are “outraged” by these photographs.  Hello?  They were there–they were posing for them–I don’t think that Annie Liebovitz doctored them in Photoshop to reveal more skin.

The hypocrisy continues.

I split wood.

HG and I went on an impromptu camping trip to The. Most. Amazing. Campground.

Those of you who do not live in Oregon–I’m sorry about your luck because you probably can’t go. For the rest of you–I’ll tell you about the campground but you must promise not to tell anyone. Ever.

I don’t want the secret to get out.

Fishermen’s Bend.

It was fab.

Go there.

But don’t tell anyone else.

Ginger and Abby loved it. Ginger was so exhausted she could hardly move.

Abby was a bit tired too but not as much.

We had a great time testing out our new fancy, shmancy camper. It has heat and water and hot water and electricity. Fan-cy. We loved it. It’s so nice to not have to haul and heat up water to clean dishes. It was like staying in a hotel.

Only different.

Anyway. That’s where we’ve been all weekend. I’m glad the virus is gone. It’s thanks to Justin who is nice and a genius but don’t tell anyone about that either– he has a rep to protect man.

Tomorrow I am taking my friend Cory to the airport at Four Fucking in the Morning. It’s a good damn thing that I like her. Four in the Morning is not so much fun for anyone.

Here is a really bad picture of me with her baby Benicio (taken with photobooth, so the quality is not up to par. . .)

As much as I love Cory and her boys, I’m glad she’s taking both of them with her when she leaves. Boys Are Loud.

That is all peeps. Ciao.

I know that everyone is sick of this–but Can You See It Now???