Gay Pride ... and Strawberry Pie

I almost titled this "Strawberry Pride" because of how gorgeous the pie turned out. I mean... Just look at it:

Check out the crystal clear glaze and the gorgeous berries. I mean... wow. 

Now that I have your attention, I kind of need to apologize for bringing the pie into the discussion. You see, this post is really going to be more vlog ("video blog" for those like me who aren't good with jargon) than a regular text-and-photo blog.

And it's also going to be more about celebrating Gay Pride than about baking. But the Strawberry Pie is really important in the discussion. I promise. I mean... well... just watch the video and I think you'll understand.

NOTE: Yes, I know that my version of celebrating Gay Pride is not what everyone does - and some people may think that I'm doing it "wrong." And that's perfectly fine. This is definitely a "You do you" situation - whatever works for you (you know, within moral/ethical reason) is cool, too. Just so long as you're living your true life.

Next week, I plan to have the full Strawberry Pie recipe. It will be a completely different pie, even, because (as you might expect) the one pictured above is long gone.

Thanks for coming along with me and being a part of my life - in all its layers.



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Is there something you make in the kitchen that ties you to your history - or grounds you in the present? What foods are special to you? I'd love to hear about how you connect your personal story with your cooking!

A Pie Chart of Kitchen Tools (but without the chart)

Summer - along with lemon bars - seems to mean all sorts of pies. After all, this is the time of year when almost everything that can avail itself to becoming pie filling is in season.

From strawberries to tomatoes, and ice cream to whipped cream, it seems that everything goes in a pie crust in the summer.

While I was making some mini peach tarts a few weeks ago (okay... peaches aren't in season yet - I know that - I was actually using a jar of peach preserves), I looked at the tools I was using and realized that they are some of my favorite things in my kitchen.

Do you have something like that? A kitchen gadget, or bowl, or towel, or mug that automatically makes you happy when you use it?

Here are the things that I had pulled out to work on my pie dough:

First of all, I'm not sure you can tell, but that bowl is huge - and I think that a really big, heavy bowl is pretty much mandatory in my kitchen. I use it for doughs of all kinds (from pies to cookies and back again), but also for mixing batters and salads and serving chips. My mom had (and still has) a massive crockery bowl that I used when I was growing up, and mine is about the same size, and it's perfect (if, occasionally, maybe even just a little too small).

The rolling pin actually was my mom's until she got a marble one many years ago. (I swear that she got the marble one before I walked off with the wooden one.) I know that chefs on TV are always happy to have their flat pins with no handles, but I love the handles. They help me stay connected while also keeping my knuckles out of the flour. (Which, really, is kind of ironic considering the next tool.)

That thing in the bowl is a pastry blender. Whenever I watch the TV shows, people are constantly giving recommendations for how to make pastry in the bowl of a food processor, but I've tried that and just don't love it. Sure, it's fine for something like a graham cracker crust, but for a true pie crust (or scones or biscuits or any other flaky dough, in my opinion) you need to have better, more direct, control - and a closer feel for what you're doing.

While I'm at it - and while I'm admitting to putting my hands directly into my dough - I should mention that my most-used kitchen tools are probably my hands.

Have you ever seen the movie Chocolat or the movie Babette's Feast? In each of those, there is a discussion of the way that a cook's emotions impact the final product that leaves the kitchen. I love having my hands in my cooking and baking for that very reason. And I think that being able to look down at my hand and see my wedding ring covered in flour pretty much guarantees that whatever leaves the kitchen is going to be filled with love. 

And, yes, I know that most people will tell you that you should never put your hands into a dough that is supposed to be flaky because it will mess up your butter. But... well... they've obviously never tried my pie crust. 

--------
So what are you cooking this summer? Is there anything you are considering making that you'd like me try, first, so you know what you're getting yourself into? Let me know and I'll be happy to get my hands dirty on your behalf.

Gay Male Author Seeks Same for Bouts of Impassioned Editing (But Should He?)

June being Pride month, I thought I’d address a topic that is fairly close to my heart: GLBT authors and editors.

Choosing an editor, at the best of times, can be like all of the worst kinds of dating. You’re looking at resumes and websites that might as well be personal ads in the back of questionable newspapers—or photos you’d rather just swipe left off of your phone. How much can you really learn from fewer than 140 characters?

Often, authors narrow their searches by looking for people who match them. People in their social circles or somehow connected on LinkedIn. The search is often pretty narrow: “I’ve written a gay romance novel about cat-loving men in Sheboygan, so I’d like to find a gay man who knows all about Sheboygan felines;” or “I’ve written an expose on lesbian influences in laundry detergent packaging, so I want to have it read by a lesbian who washes her own clothes.”

It makes sense, right? You want someone who knows a certain amount about your material to be able to read it and tell you whether it makes sense, or whether something is truly amiss. You want to meet your match and stroll off into the editorial sunset.



And I would agree with you. Sorta.

You see, you do want someone like that to be reading your book, but as a reader—not as an editor. This is the person you should hand your manuscript to when you’re thinking, “This might be good. I would love it if someone could read it and maybe give me a little light commentary on it. Nothing formal, but just point out what I missed. I could pay him or her with pizza.”

At that point, handing your book about lesbian laundry packaging to some of your lesbian (or bisexual, or simply laundry-loving) friends might be great. They can read your book and talk to you about what resonated with them, and what didn’t. After which, you can go rework what you’ve done, and then consider going out to search for an editor.

On the other hand, if you hand your book about the Sheboygan-based romantic escapades of your cat-loving hero to someone who a) hates cats; b) has a strong dislike for all things Wisconsin; or c) wears black every Valentine’s Day in protest of the commercial misappropriation of the death of a saint… sure… you might be setting yourself up for a some very non-constructive (and non-productive) criticism. But you might also find out where the holes are in your manuscript, because he’s bound to be looking for them.

Boiled down, this means that you should keep your “we know all the same stuff!” friends as your friends; and keep your “I don’t do laundry” or your “I prefer ‘Shipoopi’ to Sheboygan” frenemies as your editors. (Or, you know, hire someone who is a good, neutral editor and have a business associate as your editor—that works, too.) Basically you need to find someone who might have some in common with you, but who will still challenge you.



What does any of this have to do with Pride month?

I’ve been working as an editor for a number of years. And I’ve edited a lot of books (fiction and nonfiction) for which I was simply not the target audience—and a very few books that were written for “my type.” I’ve learned, over time, that the books I edit that aren’t “my kind of book” are the ones where I often find it easier to give better, fuller, and more active critiques.

I guess it’s a little of a “devil’s advocate” kind of thing (I swear I’m not referring to the really awful 1997 movie—I’m referring to the guy who argues against sanctifying a saint during canonization proceedings at the Vatican), where I’m able to use the knowledge I do have to try to poke holes in the manuscript. (“You’re the author—convince me I’m wrong!”)

Oh, sure, I’ve had arguments and push-back critiques with some gay male authors, too. And we’ve learned a lot from each other in the process. And (I think) the results have been really positive for both of us. But the critiques took me longer—and the points of contention were occasionally harder for each of us to describe and understand—because we were starting on the same page.

Think about it. If you’re looking at a package of laundry detergent, and you’re looking to see whether that shape on the front might remind you ever-so-slightly of a Georgia O’Keeffe painting, if you turn to someone else who has studied art history (we’ll say that’s the point of using O’Keeffe in this description, just to keep this clean) and say “Does that look O’Keeffe-ish to you?” Your art history-loving friend is more likely to say yes than someone who has only ever seen O’Keeffe’s cityscapes, and never seen her flowers.

Having a similar background is great if the two of you are friends who are in a museum discussing art theory. But if you’re an author looking for critique and your reader already knows enough about your subject matter to not question why you’re making your assertions, well, that can be a problem.

For editing, you need to find someone who knows something about your subject—just enough to understand the innuendo, as well as the right questions to ask—but not so much that he/she doesn't ask any questions at all. If you're a GLBTQ author, that means you might want (and need) a GLBTQ editor, but make sure you get the right one and swipe left on the rest.

Okay. This is getting a bit long, so I’ll tell you what. I’m going to let you think on this a bit, and send me your thoughts. In a month or so we’ll revisit this topic and get into some broader genre discussions, where you both want and don’t want your editor to know your topic—all at once.

For now, let’s just take a moment or two to celebrate all of the cat-loving gay romantics from Sheboygan, the Georgia O’Keeffe-admiring lesbians in the laundry aisle at Target, and the incredibly diverse pantheon of GLBTQ authors who have given us so much pleasure and discussion through the years.



My family—my husband*, my cat**, and I—wouldn’t be where we are without them.***

*If I’m going to be honest, technically he’s only my fiancé.
**And, well, technically, our cat is a dog.
***And, okay, for full disclosure, we’re also not stick people.
-
Originally posted on Published.com - 6/8/2016

Ceremonial Distance

I found out today that one of my best friends is - after 23 years with his partner - engaged.

Or, rather, they intend to get married.

When I wrote back in response to an emailed comment about a possible ceremony, I asked if it meant that they were engaged - and when this change had happened. His response was "ROFL - Engagement? After 23 years????"

But apparently there was a bit of a proposal and all, so I think it counts.

The part that continues to surprise me is that this apparently happened almost 10 months ago and I just found out about it - by accident - today.

Ninety percent of my life I'm perfectly fine with living halfway across the country (or the world) from most of my best friends. Ten percent of the time I really wish I lived a lot closer.

Today I definitely felt the latter.

Pinning It

I have done something I never thought I'd do. I've started a Pinterest page.

I'm looking for some design ideas and trying to bookmark them so I can figure out where they are later on. So I'm trying it out.

I can't see how some people spend hours and hours on Pinterest, but I do understand the idea of losing an hour or two.

We'll see how it goes - or if I just need to give up after a bit and... well... stick a pin in it.

Living Life As... Myself

There is a new Mazda ad on TV where a young guy gets a new car, and then we watch him get different Mazdas as the ad goes along. He takes one to college. He drives one away from his wedding. He drives his kids around in one.

Then, at the end, he gets a new car and the voiceover says that he should celebrate feeling a little more like himself.

The ad bothers me every time I see it. I don't know if it did the very first time. I probably thought it was kind of sweet, you know?

But then I started to think about that final line and realized that this guy has apparently lived his whole life not being himself. According to the ad, he was himself when he was young, single, and owned a convertible. Then, after that, he had to become someone else to get married and have kids. Only getting into a new car - alone - and driving away allowed him to feel like himself.

And, yeah, that makes me sad. For him.

It's kind of like the people who are absolute hell to work with for 8 hours every day, but then you get told that they're "totally different - really fun" outside of work. That means that for at least 1/3 of their lives they're... someone else? What is the point in that?

On this Friday of Pride Week in Minneapolis - and on the day that the Supreme Court ruled that same-sex marriage is the law of the land - I would have to say that I spend pretty much my whole life being me.

That's how I was raised. I was raised to be myself and to be happy with that. Okay. Yes. I'm also a Gemini, which means that there may or may not be multiple sides of me that not everyone knows, but they are all very much me. I don't need to drive away from my daily life in a new car to find out who I am.

And as much as I would love a new car, I'm perfectly happy with the everyday me.

SCOTUS Watch 2015

I had kind of forgotten, for a while, that the Supreme Court is supposed to be delivering its ruling in the "marriage equality" case (Obergefell v Hodges) this month.

Then, a couple of days ago, it started showing up on social media, because there is a chance that the ruling will come down tomorrow.

Here's the thing, though: Minnesota already recognizes gay marriages, so this shouldn't matter, right? I should just keep going on about my life and be fine.

But it does matter, because my home state of South Dakota - right "next door," where my parents still live, and where Christopher and I go for holidays - doesn't allow gay marriage. And they not only don't allow them, but they don't recognize them from other states. So even if we were married (according to Minnesota), if I went home for Christmas with Christopher and got in a car accident and was taken to the hospital, there's a good chance that he could be denied access to me.

So... Okay... I obviously want the Supreme Court to rule in favor of marriage equality tomorrow. If nothing else, it would put our standards in line with Canada and Mexico, and - ironically, considering how many people say it's against their religion - a number of other really religious countries (like Ireland, Brazil, France, and Spain) who have already legalized gay marriage.

And I don't think I'm alone. After all, most of the states in the country have already gone that way. Check out the really cool timeline/infographic on this page: http://www.mtv.com/news/interactive/marriage-equality-map/, if you want to see how things have changed in just the past decade.

But, since I wanted to be prepared, I thought I'd look into the other possibilities.

Worst case scenario: The Supreme Court rules in favor of bans. This would mean that the 14 states with bans (including those involved in the lawsuit before the Court) would stand, and that states where marriage equality is the law could see that right jeopardized.

Middle case scenario: The Supreme Court rules that bans are okay, but that those states have to recognize marriages from other states. This would be a step up from my current situation when I travel to South Dakota, because although I would be in a weird kind of limbo, relationship-wise, when I'm there, at least a marriage certificate would be binding.

Best case scenario: The Supreme Court rules that the bans are unconstitutional and that marriage equality should be the law of the land. This would mean that, nationwide, same-sex marriages could take place, and would be recognized from state to state.

That sounds kind of amazing, doesn't it? I mean... Even though a number of the states having issues with gay marriage are already mounting legal battles against it, it would still be pretty great. (After all, state governmental officials who have been quoted as saying things like "The Supreme Court isn't the law of the land" can't maintain that stance for long, can they?)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know we've come a really long way. And I'm thrilled that we are where we are.

So tomorrow I'll be watching the news and trying to see what's going on. I'll be anxious. I'll be nervous. Hopefully I'll be excited by the outcome. (Let's face it, I'll probably tear up, no matter what.) And then I'll silently thank everyone who came before to work for equality, and consider how far we still need to go - next week, after we celebrate for a bit.

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UPDATE: No ruling today (6/18/15), so we'll keep waiting and watching...

How to Get Me Riled Up

There are very few things that I won't just let roll off my back. I can deal with pretty much any topic of conversation by simply ignoring it, chalking it up to the ignorance of the speaker, or figuring I should just take a breath and respond to it later.

In the past couple of days, though, I've found two things that have really gotten my goat.

The first happened at work. One of the contractors that works for our company sent a message to me - not really knowing it was to me, more just sending it to the company in general - which was so snarky and disrespectful it just made me seethe. I spent the next 20 minutes writing and rewriting my response until - eventually - it was nice and polite and only readers who know me very well would have realized how pissed I was.

Thinking about it, today, I'm still just massively annoyed by the lack of respect in the message I received. I've been at my company for years - years longer than the contractor - and I probably know her job better than she does. So to be completely dismissed as if I didn't know anything... not cool.

Which, I guess, leads me to the second instance. This one was courtesy of the blessing and curse which is social media. Yes, I know that you never know what people are going to say online, and you never know for sure whether it's being said sarcastically or not. But there are some things that you read and just think "WTF?"

With all of the news about states enacting "religious freedom" laws, lately, that's been showing up online a lot. And usually I ignore the rhetoric, because it's from people whom I may or may not know, and I don't want to get into a shouting match across the Internet - I'd rather have an in-person discussion. But tonight I was basically told that my concern for what is going on in this country - and my praise for companies standing up against it - was misplaced because things just aren't as bad as I'm making them out to be.

Apparently, the fact that in some states I could very soon be denied service pretty much anywhere, including hospitals, hotels, restaurants, emergency rooms, etc. - not to mention that in those same states Christopher and I could be denied access to each other if something happened and one of us went to a hospital where a nurse didn't want to see us together because it was against her religious beliefs - apparently that is just an exaggeration. The statistics about the number of people who are killed or beaten during hate crimes - which often have defense arguments along the lines of "he was flaunting his gayness, it was self-defense" - basically makes it seem in many states that gay men and lesbians are already second-class citizens. How much worse would it be if a policeman, or a judge, decided that there was nothing to do because the victim was gay - and that was against some religious belief, anyway?

So... Yeah... I commented back and made my case for the other side of the argument. I even took my time and made sure that my response was grammatically correct and fairly snark-free.

Twice in two days. I'm on a roll.

Singing Good-bye to "Glee"

So... Tonight the series finale of the TV show "Glee" aired. Parts of it were amazing. Parts of it were fine. But overall it was in keeping with the show's mythos, which made me happy.

I'm kind of a stickler for that kind of thing. I get really annoyed when shows kind of break from their usual way of doing things to get in that one last great show - or that one "very special episode." I kind of felt like "Glee" spent much of last season doing that. They had lost one of their main characters due to the actor's death, and the show kind of felt like it didn't know what to do.

But the final season has felt like what it was "supposed to" feel like. And the finale - two episodes back to back, actually - gave me the same warm fuzzies that I got in the first couple of seasons. They flashed back. They flashed forward. But - through it all - they flashed smiles and sang some good songs.

For a few weeks, there's been this whole "hashtag campaign" asking people to post "what Glee meant to me" and I thought it was all kind of silly. A "Hallmark holiday" for a TV show, of all things. But as I watched it, tonight, and thought about how people I know have really reacted to the show in incredibly emotional ways (for better or worse), and I realized that I'm going to miss some of the characters.

This was the first show I've watched where we got to see gay and lesbian characters experience crushes and fall in love - and get their hearts broken and get married - without immediately jumping into bed. But - unlike a show like "Will & Grace" these characters did, eventually, have sex (I'm pretty sure Will never had sex in the entire run of "Will & Grace"). And the gay and lesbian characters came in different shapes and sizes, too (this season one was even a star football player - who fell for an artsy hipster), which made it even better. In some strange way, I got to think about what it would have been like to have a gay high school relationship. That was cool. 

And there has been a lot of hope (for lack of a better word) on TV while "Glee" has been on. Underdogs getting the chance to shine. Emotions being worked out in song. All the stuff that makes me a very happy TV watcher.

I know that in the realm of 24-hour cable stations the show will never truly go away, and if I wanted I could own the entire box set of all of the seasons in a couple of months, but I have to admit that I'm going to miss watching it every week. So tonight I'll watch a few of the production numbers one last time to let them sink in before saying goodbye.

How to Spend a Really Nice Day

Roses.

Chocolate.

Homemade brunch.

Talk of travel and the year ahead.

Snuggling on the couch together with the pup.

Reading books as the day goes on and we contemplate what to do for dinner.

Yes, I realize what day of the year it is. And, yes, I realize that there are people who only do this kind of thing when the calendar tells them to.

But we do this kind of thing fairly often, just because. Not every weekend, mind you. But every so often. It's nice. You should try it.*

*Yes, I know this media holiday is totally aimed at couples, but this is the kind of thing you can also do on your own... I frequently buy my own flowers and chocolate and read books snuggled up on the couch even when Christopher isn't here - and I did it when I was single, too. I just don't talk to myself - out loud - about the year ahead (or at least not quite as much).  

One Good Thing

Okay. This still isn't the post I started to write on Thursday. I guess the news from the past week has just really gotten to me, and I don't really know how to deal with it, yet. But I want to. Which is why I started the post on Thursday in the first place. I just haven't figured out how to end it yet...

In the meantime, though, I came across this little bit of news that made me rather happy: 

Apparently, for the first time ever, Tiffany & Co. (yes the Tiffany & Co. - the one with the little blue boxes; the one Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly had breakfast at) has chosen to use a same-sex couple in one of their ad campaigns.

According to all of the news about the image, it is a real-life couple (not a pair of un-connected models) sitting on their own front steps outside their apartment. (The stories also imply that it's their own clothing and their own stying, but I'm not buying the idea that they didn't have a stylist - after all, this is a major ad campaign.)

The tagline on the right says:
"Will you promise to never stop completing my
sentences or singing off-key, which I'm afraid you
 do often? And will you let today be the first
 sentence of one long story that never, ever ends?
 Will you?"

Most likely there will come a time - hopefully relatively soon - when wedding ads feature same-sex couples don't make the news. But, until that time, I'm more than happy to applaud the companies that are standing out in front of the crowd, unafraid to show their support for everyone's right to their own Tiffany-blue daydreaming.

Bed Hopping

I know that Christopher and I seem like pretty normal, well-adjusted people. And we are pretty normal, most of the time.

Today, though, we spent the day with two strangers, hopping from bed to bed.

We were mattress shopping. Obviously.

I gotta tell you... It's one of the stranger things you do in a shopping environment. You walk into a store, and - while chatting with a salesperson - start lying down on beds. Rolling over. Bouncing a little to readjust.

With your shoes on.

Goldilocks was referenced a few times in the course of the afternoon. Foam, latex, and inner coils were talked about as if we knew what they meant. Eventually, we stopped being surprised by mattress sets that could cost as much as a car.

And we got to play with the remote to raise and lower the mattresses, too.

By the time we left the first shop, we'd actually kind of gotten used to the whole process. In the second store, it didn't seem as odd to hop on and off the beds while talking to a stranger about how they felt.

It still felt odd, mind you, just not as odd.

Which, when you think about it, is probably not a bad thing.

Marriage Equality - One Year Later

There's been a lot of news this week (or at least a lot of postings by friends of mine on social media), that this is the one-year anniversary of Minnesota's Marriage Equality law being passed.

It's appropriate, then, that in the past few weeks Christopher and I have been to two different weddings, each of which had two grooms. Christopher likened this to the way that all of our straight friends got married in their twenties - because they could - so now our gay friends are doing the same.

But the two weddings were truly different from each other. The first was for a couple who have been together for 14 years. The ceremony and reception took place at a downtown hotel, and it was all kind of laid back, yet a little slick (in a good way). The ceremony was kind of non-traditional, with some laughs amidst the seriousness, and it was followed by a cocktail hour, then dinner and dancing. The crowd was probably about 60-80% gay men (I'm guessing on the higher end, really), and it was very fun.

The second wedding - also very fun - was much more traditional. The service took place in a church, then photos were taken before everyone piled into cars to drive to a hotel in downtown St. Paul where the reception took place. Once at the hotel, there was a cocktail hour, also followed by dinner and dancing. This time, however, the crowd was about 95% straight. Which made it feel even more "traditional" than the one the week before.

There's no question about it - the weddings matched the personalities of the couples. After all, no one ever said that gay men were all the same, so why should their weddings be? And, for that matter, there's nothing that says that all gay or lesbian couples have to have a wedding, either. Although, the fact that they can added a really fun aspect to the first wedding: meeting a bunch of men who were identifying their significant others as "husbands" - which couldn't have happened a year ago.

Which is where things got a little funny at the second wedding reception. I was sitting next to a very fun couple, and after the husband found out that I'm in a relationship with Christopher, he asked when we were going to get married. He might have said "if", but I'm pretty sure it was "when" - and it felt like "WHEN????" Mind you, this is someone I had just met. Nice enough guy. Charming wife. Aside from that, I didn't know him from Adam.

So I said that Christopher and I haven't really talked about it, which (because it's true) is our usual answer, and which usually gets people to say "oh" and then go on to something different. But he asked "Why not?" so I explained that there are a lot of financial implications for two people (of any orientation) who are in their forties and decide to get married. He obviously wanted a better answer.

So I explained: We're not fresh-out-of-college 20-somethings who are lovestruck and excited about the new freedom. We're not a together-for-40-years couple who are beginning to look at the serious healthcare and end-of-life decisions which can only be made by spouses. We're 40-somethings with financial baggage and responsibilities which we have to consider. And, at least for now, we've been together for 8.5 years and are happy the way things are - just like a number of our friends, both gay and straight.

Again, I'm used to people kind of letting that sink in and saying "That's cool. It's good to think those things through and not rush into anything just because you can." But he didn't say that. He looked me square in the eye and said "But that's why we fought so hard to push this through the legislature. It's why we spent all that time on the phone with people and did all that lobbying. We did all that work for people like you, so that you could get married." There was no mistaking the implication that he meant "so that you would get married" instead of "so you could get married."

I just kind of looked at him and shook my head and reiterated, "The option is incredible. But we just haven't really talked about it." I could tell he was crestfallen. It was like when you disappoint your favorite teacher and get a lower grade than you should have and you have to deal with that "You could have done better" look as your paper is handed to you. But at least the conversation ended. And for the rest of the night we were back to smalltalk and celebrating the couple of the evening.

And, while Christopher and I have totally spent a little time after each wedding saying things like "I don't ever want to do X" or "I really liked Y", we still aren't having any big conversations about it. And, yes, that's perfectly fine.

Which brings us to my book club this week. I was talking about the two weddings (we had read Bridget Jones's Diary, which talks about relationships and "smug married people," so it sort of fit in), and I told the story of the guy from the second wedding. Everyone at book club looked at me and said "But the law means that you can get married - not that you have to get married." And I realized two things, then and there:

1) In my book club - as in my life - I am surrounded by really smart, cool people.
2) Sometimes simply having a choice is the most important part of life, and I'm really glad to live in a state where I have one more than I did just a little over a year ago.


Want to know how I was feeling about all of this last year? Check out A Question I Never Really Expected and/or Newly Minted Possibilities. 

Tales from Triage

Christopher and I spent a couple of hours at Urgent Care last night, making sure that the sinus/cold thing that is hanging out in the house wasn't anything more than that. (Happily, it's not. I mean... it's nasty, but at least it's just nasty and not worse.) We checked the wait times before we left home, so we knew it was going to be at least an hour, but that didn't really prepare us for the waiting room. Or the almost 2-hour wait.

You see, the waiting room at Urgent Care is used for triage - you take a number, get checked in, and then if you're not urgently urgent, you take a seat and wait your turn. I've only ever seen one person get sent to the front of the line, and I'm pretty sure he had an almost-severed finger.

So, last night, while Christopher was being forced to wear a facemask to keep his coughs in check, I was reading a book and watching the triaged crowd around the room.

The most obviously intriguing person was the guy who was probably in his 20s and seemed to be there with his mom. He had one foot up on the bench seat next to him and one of his toes was wrapped in tissue. (The other foot was in a Croc clog, but I can't fault him for that given the circumstances.) We heard from the doctor, later, that there may have been an issue with a speaker and "fireworks," which resulted in that toe's visit to Urgent Care.

There were a couple of small kids who were kind of hilarious - probably about 1 and 2 years old - very chatty and wanting to walk around and look at everything. I cannot imagine what it must be like to keep two little kids occupied in a hospital waiting room.

I have to admit that I was a little freaked out by the older woman who was brought in on a borrowed wheelchair because of a fall in her home. She had a scrape on her forehead, but the major issue was her knee - which she pointed out to the nurse was an artificial knee - which she had obviously done some serious damage to, because it was swelling and all sorts of purple. Oddly, though, the thing that most bugged me about her was her husband (I assume), who kept basically wanting to just leave her to deal with everything on her own.

But my favorite person in the room - from the point of having someone to watch - was the woman who stood up, walked over to a guy simply holding his cellphone in his hand, and told him that she wanted him to stop filming her. He looked up and said "I'm not doing that... This phone doesn't even have a camera..." (From where I was sitting, I'm pretty sure it didn't. It looked like it had less tech than my flip phone.) But that wasn't good enough for her. She proceeded to report him to the nurses on duty, who - I'm guessing due to some kind of duty - found someone else to come check out what was going on by walking stealthily by and stealing glances at the guy and his phone. The paranoid woman walked over and sat down on the other side of the room, with people between them, but kept looking at the guy. Then she paced. Then she sat down on his side of the room, again (which I really don't understand), before storming off to sit in the waiting room that is closer to the exam rooms. At which point the guy just kind of shrugged and kept on about his own business while kind of watching American Idol.

Eventually, Christopher got seen by a doctor. And by the time we walked out the Urgent Care doors were closed and there were just a few people left in the room. Obviously, we couldn't ask what happened to any of our co-waiters. I have to admit, though, that I kind of want to know what happened to each of the other people.

Sometimes It's Just Time

Christopher and I just got back from a wedding. It was a great wedding - the ceremony itself was both serious and funny - and the drinks were good and the dinner was nice and we had a really great time meeting people.

The guys who got married celebrated their 14th anniversary, yesterday, so they are starting year 15 as husbands. And that is kind of amazing.

But... anyway... that's not the type of timing I meant to talk about.

You see, after the ceremony and the drinks (which were had while the wedding party were out doing photos, so you know that the allotted half hour stretched for a while), and after the dinner and the toasts and the cake (because... really... weddings are all about the cake, right?), the DJ started up the music.

We actually danced during the first "all-skate" dance, since they asked if everyone who had come as a couple would come to the dance floor. And it was really nice.

And then the thumping bass beat kicked in and the DJ was starting to get everyone on the dance floor, with the caveat that they would be there all night, and no one would be leaving early.

About two songs after that, we started saying our good-byes and heading for the door. It was an incredibly fun evening and it was so great to see them get married and meet all the new people, but we were also finding that we were tired and ready to go.

But don't worry - we didn't leave early. We simply left when it was time for us to leave.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

A lot of news (or at least "Internet news") in the past few days has focused on the fact that Fred Phelps, the founder of the hatemongering Westboro Baptist Church may be dying.

There are basically two camps in the things I've seen.

There are the people who think that his funeral should be a place for joyful protest - lots of rainbows and glitter, and kind of a "nyah nyah, you're dead" party. (The irony of "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" being sung outside the funeral seems like a fun idea on some level, I'm sure.)

There are also the people who think that we should kind of forgive and forget and pray for his soul to find peace of some kind, since he was obviously a tormented person to say and do the things he's espoused.

Sure, there are some people with other views. I saw a comment, recently, that said that we should all simply find peace in knowing that a just God will put him in the level of hell he most deserves for what he has done to people. And while I'm kind of in favor of that view, I also realize that finding peace without taking action can be hard.

It seems that we all kind of want resolution. We want the final moment on the screen when the two lovers are reunited in one final kiss. We want the bad guy to get his comeuppance and end up on the wrong end of a light saber. We want the catharsis that comes with taking one last parting shot, and getting in the last word.

Maybe it's an American thing. I mean... European movies are much more frequently ambiguous at the end. The hero and the heroine walk out the wrong doors and miss each other at the train station in French films. The bad guy gets away. The last word is swept away by a gust of wind and no one hears it. The only movies that end without resolution in the States tend to be horror movies which are left open-ended for the sake of sequels - which doesn't exactly lend the audience a sense of peace.

So I understand how we all want the death of Fred Phelps to be something we can point to and say "See? It's over. Done. The end."

But he wasn't alone. He was the head of a church with a full congregation. When he was out being crazy and picketing military funerals, there were lines of people with him. Sure, he was the head of it all, but there was also an "it all" that he was head of. And so this story - just like the horror movies - will continue. Without it's speaker it might be quieter, but this will not be the sudden end of the story. So we'll deal with someone else tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And we'll just hope that the voices of hatred eventually fade away.

First, though, we have to address the matter at hand: What to do when he dies.

As with any obituary, if and when I see his, I'll probably look to see where he came from, who his family was, who he leaves behind. And I'll feel sorry for them in their loss. I won't rend my garments and wail. I won't throw confetti. But I also know that I don't have it in me to forgive that much hatred all at once. Forget, though... With some time, that might be possible.

And can you imagine how much it must piss someone like that off to know that he might be forgotten? To know that all of the energy he put out into the world just dissipates into nothingness? When the loudest person in the room finds out that the quiet voice wins... that's gotta just be annoying as all hell.

So, personally, when I hear that he has died, I plan to do what I do every day. I plan to annoy the hell out of him and the people who are like him by quietly (well, relatively quietly) living my life. By sharing a home with Christopher. By doing my best to care for the people with whom I share this world. And by not giving him the satisfaction of being talked about except as a cautionary tale or the footnote to some answer in a trivia game.

(For the record, I'm happy to say that I spelled "comeuppance" right, even though I know it looks really weird.)

Eight, plus 1

**Spoiler Alert** Schmaltz ahead.

(Not sure what schmaltz is? Click here for the definition.)

(Oh. Sorry. I didn't really mean the literal chicken fat version of the word. I meant the first definition on this page.)

Today is the eighth anniversary of the day after Christopher and I had our first date.

I know it's a little odd to mention that, but I think that, for me, it's kind of an important day. You see, when we met, I had been going out on a decent number of dates. Not long before, I had been going through a "dry spell" and had decided that I really needed to get out more, so I had set myself up with a couple of online dating sites and decided to just jump in with both feet.

And, mainly, all that got me was wet. (And not in any kind of adult double-entendre sort of way.)

And then I had a date with the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes I'd ever seen. They showed up at my door one evening for a night of pizza and beer and a movie. (Which, in retrospect, is kind of funny, because although we both love pizza and movies, we're not big beer drinkers - but I think that just sounded right when we were setting up the date.)

So, we had this really good date, and the evening ended with him leaving and saying we should get together again the following week. We couldn't make plans for the coming weekend, because it was Labor Day, and he was going to be out of town with friends.

And, anyway, I had two more dates set up with different guys for that weekend. (Like I said, I'd jumped in with both feet.)

Labor Day weekend rolled around, and this guy that I'd only had one date with was out of town, and I went on the first of my (scheduled prior to the date) dates. And for pretty much the entire date, I felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I wasn't supposed to be going on dates with other people.

I don't think I actually even had the second date I was supposed to have. I'm pretty sure I cancelled it in advance with an excuse of "something came up..."

But... anyway... The point of all of this is that, although the first date on August 28th was pretty darned good, I think that the fact that August 29th found me with someone new on my mind is pretty important, too.

So today I toast Eight Years, plus a day. Schmaltz and all.

8/28 Cooking Challenge - Highlander Homecookin' (and some other stuff)

Christopher and I have a bunch of things going on this weekend. They kind of mostly came out of the blue - including the fact that we're invited to FOUR events on Saturday, all within the span of about 3pm to 8pm. (Yeah... no... that's not gonna happen.)

For one of the events, we were asked to bring a sweet treat. So I started thinking of things to take and thought of some bars I had a while back that were cake on the bottom, but then a layer of half-melted mini-marshmallows, topped with salted peanuts. Basically, they're a Salted Nut Roll in a bar. But then other people started talking about bringing salty things, so I figured that the sweet things should probably truly be sweet.

But it's been one of those weeks where nothing seems to click, and I was stumped on something else to take. Christopher turned to me and said "Why don't you do an 8/28 thing?" To which I immediately replied "The next book I'm using doesn't have the kind of food that you can take to an event." (In case you're wondering, it's a book of abelskiver - aka filled pancake - recipes, which I was given for my birthday.) I went through a few dessert cookbooks I have, but no matter how I worked the 8/28, nothing was working (I kept getting recipes for frostings or fillings, for some reason.) As desperation set in, though, I realized that the cookbook I'd received just before the abelskiver one was a copy of "Highlander Homecookin'" from the Scotland (SD) Parent Teacher Organization, which my mom gave me.

I checked the Index's 8th page. It only had one column, so I counted down 28 items and found "Taste of Rainbow" on the second line from the bottom. I don't know if you follow much Minnesota news, or if you know that the gay pride flag has rainbow stripes (it does), but today is the day that same-sex marriages became legal in the state of Minnesota. I wasn't sure what "Taste of Rainbow" was, but I knew that as long as it was a dessert I was going to be making it.

Ingredients were few, since it starts with a box cake mix:

(Yes, we bought the jug o' oil at Costco.)

I love ingredient lists like this, because they're specific, and all right there in front of you.

Check it out, if Christopher and I had met on 8/29, we'd have been taking "Thin Pancakes", instead.

You start by simply making the cake batter, for which I used a whisk, instead of a mixer. Not because we don't have a mixer (which I'm sure you're thinking, since we don't have a microwave), but because it's a cake mix. How hard is it to whisk a cake mix? I mean... I was even able to whisk and shoot a photo at the same time:

(In all honesty, we have two stand mixers, two hand mixers, and a stick blender. That's what happens when you combine two households and both people like to cook.)

Then you separate the batter into six bowls (it ends up being right about 3/4 cup of batter per bowl) and add the food coloring, which I find is best added by putting the droplets in designs into the batter. While counting aloud, of course. (Count von Count sound effects and maniacal laughter is optional, though highly recommended.)

Then you stir both your set of primary colors and your set of secondary additive colors. (Check it out - color theory discussion along with the baking and the gay pride stuff!)

At this point, the colors looked really cool. The consistency was still cake-batter-y, but it just looked totally different. Like really thick tempera paints. I totally wanted to play with them, but I figured that would be a) really messy; and, b) detrimental to the finished product.

The recipe said that you should use 16 muffin cups, and fill them each a little at a time. I thought "16? The cake box says 24. I'll do 18, just in case." Umm... yeah... I should have trusted the recipe. I totally ran out of purple on the 16th cupcake.

I totally admit that I thought there would be enough batter of each color to fill the whole cup, so that you'd end up with layers. In my mind, I guess I was kind of expecting that when I was done, I'd end up with something like this:

(From my heroes in the Betty Crocker kitchens.)

Instead, as I added color upon color, I kept getting these weird, yet seriously fun, color palettes.

The red... umm... it looked a lot less "bodily" in person. But you can see how there is red, orange, yellow, and green visible in all of those. Kinda cool.

So, at this point, they go into the oven. Because, ya know, that's what you do with cupcakes. You bake them.

This gave me a chance to move the sprinkler out in the yard, and to do a little of the clean-up in the kitchen. But, first, I noticed how the dribbled cake batter on the sides of the white bowls kind of looked like something you see at a Disney park. There's always that set of props off to the side where you're sure that Mickey had just been there painting his heart out. And... well... that's what these looked like to me, so I took a picture or two:

I think that color of orange is totally Tigger color.

Don't those look like some kind of gas giant planets? 

Did I distract you long enough with those other pictures so that you've forgotten how gorgeous that rainbow layer cake was? You see, this is what they looked like when they came out of the oven: 

On the one hand, I really like the abstract nature of the colors. On the other hand, I looked at them and immediately thought "I wonder if the dye in them causes them to be different weights and so they bubbled up differently - or whether the outsides cooked first, and then they kind of shifted." Back on the first hand, I was a little bummed that they weren't going to be stripey, but I figured they would probably still taste good.

So of course I had to try one.

(I know that the plate really reflected the flash, but I love how the stripes showed up on the cupcake wrapper.)

Of course, if you were paying attention early on, you noticed the tub o' frosting. So these are now subtle, innocent white cupcakes. But if there's anything I've learned through the years, it's that the most subtle and innocent things - and people - are usually hiding something much more interesting inside.

So, here's to all of the people celebrating marriage equality, today (and in the future), in Minnesota. May your lives forever be filled with tasty rainbows.

And frosting. Obviously there should be frosting.

Pride and Weddings

It's Pride weekend in Minneapolis (and a bunch of other places, like San Francisco and New York City) this weekend. And everywhere I turn, people are asking me if I'm going to be at the festival or the parade.

I'm not.

I think we've discussed, in the past, that I went to Pride numerous times when I lived out in Baltimore and was in my 20s or early 30s. In other words, back when hot weather, big crowds, and port-a-potties actually sounded like a fun way to spend a day.

I know that this is a fairly monumental year for gay rights and gay marriage. The Supreme Court rulings on DOMA and California's Prop 8 in the past week, coupled with the passage of gay marriage in Minnesota has been huge. But I still find those things to be kind of private.

A friend of mine is in San Francisco this weekend and has been posting on social media pictures and video of people getting married. And a friend of mine actually posted that he and his partner of 14 years were married today, as well. (Congrat's, guys!)

And that's really cool. I mean... really cool.

Even so, instead of going to the festival and celebrating in the massive crowds of people, Christopher and I will be in a smaller crowd, tomorrow, celebrating a wedding. A straight wedding.

While that's probably not earth-shattering news for many people, it is certainly going to be life-changing for the two of them. And, considering that it's an inter-denominational wedding, it's also something that would have been unheard of a couple of generations ago.

So I guess that, tomorrow, we'll kind of be thanking the past for creating the present. While we all look forward to the future.

Newly Minted Possibilities

Tonight's blog post needs backstories - not just one, but two. But I'll make them relatively short and they'll make the post worth it. I promise.

Backstory #1 - I grew up in a small town in South Dakota. My parents have been together for 57 years. When I think of the Marriage Equality stuff, I think of that small-town upbringing and my parents' marriage and it makes me happy and excited and a little... I dunno... let's call it "wistfully ponderant." (You already knew most of this if you've been paying attention.) 

Backstory #2 - In small-town South Dakota (see above), whenever there is a major life event being celebrated (birth, graduation, milestone birthday, wedding, shower, etc.) people make cream cheese mints. When I was growing up, the "mint molds" - were in short supply and people would trade them back and forth. 

We borrowed a bunch of them prior to my older sister's wedding, so that we could make tons of mints - I believe they were in the same colors as the bridesmaids' dresses - blue, green, and yellow, maybe? (Or was there a peach color, too? I remember having to mix food colors at some point.) 

When we were getting ready for graduation, it was a challenge, because lots of people all needed those roses and leaves so that they could be prepared for their own parties. 

For Christopher's birthday party last winter, I made mints, in fact (blue roses and green leaves), to match his birthday cake. They looked like this: 

They're kind of time consuming, but overall they're pretty easy to make, which might be why they're a cornerstone of so many of the memories of the celebrations in my life. 

So... there are the backstories. And now on to the "real" story.

With all of the Marriage Equality stuff going on this past week, we've been kind of insular in Minnesota. Pretty much everyone we know knows what's going on, but you kind of forget that you haven't talked to everyone about it at every turn. 

Well, on Monday evening, the phone rang. By the caller ID, I knew that it was my folks - who had just returned home from their night away celebrating their 57th wedding anniversary. 

I picked up the phone, and the first thing I heard was my mom saying "So, what color mints do you and Christopher want?"

And, you know, just hearing that made all the rest of the celebrations pale in comparison.

I think you'll agree that it also solidified my parents as, quite possibly, the coolest parents around. 

(Although - a reminder - we're not planning any mint-related celebrations at this time.)