Round Two

So... apparently, Wonder Woman wasn't as buoyant as I thought.

I went to bed Thursday night with every intention of going to school on Friday. I even texted with a few Key Clubbers to arrange to borrow Wii games and a popcorn machine for the event after school Friday. During the many times I woke up during Thursday night/Friday morning though, the more apparent it became that plan was not going to work. My throat pain only grew worse and sleep was elusive.

I should have followed my own instinct Thursday and went to the doctor to be checked for strep. However, upon the nurse's recommendation to give it a day's rest first, it was easy to romance myself into following that notion and avoiding the deep-throat assault of a strep test. I did make a doctor's appointment Friday morning though... and, alas, it was strep (making me one of the 5-10% cases that are adult.)

After a day of regularly scheduled Keflex/Tylenol/Sucrets cocktails, the pain has subsided to a mild discomfort. That is an extreme improvement from just laying on my side and drooling onto a towel because the instinctual swallowing we do with the saliva our mouths produce felt like glass shards raking down my throat. (TMI?)

Looking back over the last twenty-four hours, at how easy it was to get into to see the doctor and how easy it was to confirm a diagnosis, and how quick it was to get the prescription filled and how quickly the antibiotic took effect, it has left me pondering on the "luxury" of health insurance.

Some parts of my childhood were spent uninsured, others I had Medicaid. The Emergency Room was my doctor's office, because you didn't have to pay when you went. I would venture to guess many of those bills were left unpaid altogether. It took a while for me to mature into the adult role of being insured, or seeing the importance of having medical insurance. It was during an appointment at the free clinic for birth control when I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son (I always was a bit of a procrastinator.) I had sat in the waiting room of that free clinic often through my childhood waiting for my mother during her appointments.

Working for the hospital was probably my first "real" job, certainly the first time I ever remember being offered health insurance. It was a much higher monthly charge during the first 3 or 6 months of employment, so I chose to hold off until the rate dropped to enroll. Doing so, gave me the very unique experience of enduring the exact same medical issue twice, once as an uninsured patient and once as insured.

I had a peri-rectal cyst that was extremely painful. When I was uninsured, the doctor sent me back home and told me to try Aleve for a couple of weeks to see if it helped. It didn't. I remember laying on the couch, in agony, trying to lie perfectly still as my mother cared for Justin. When I went back two weeks later and the cyst had only become more aggravated, and the surgeons scheduled an outpatient surgery to drain it.

Fast-forward a year or two, following the physical stress of Cameron's birth, when the cyst returned. At this point, I had insurance. Upon my first doctor's appointment, for which the cyst was less painful than my previous experience, I was admitted directly into the hospital, given a private room in the case there should be drainage issues, given narcotic meds for pain, and stayed overnight following the drainage for follow-up care, then sent home with more meds for any discomfort.

Quite the different experience. It was eye-opening.

There are many things for which I am made thankful from Jason's military career. His paid college education and the retirement check that pays a big chunk of our mortgage are indeed high priority on that Thankful List. Also, equally high (if not higher) is the medical insurance we will have for the rest of our lives... at no cost. A couple of years ago, something with the insurance or military medical ticked me off. It was so nominal I can't even remember the circumstances now. But as a knee-jerk reaction at the time, I said I would just get insurance through the school and not worry with it any more... then I found out for the first time how much my co-workers pay for health insurance... like $800/month for a family. I cannot fathom that! I cannot fathom paying HALF of that monthly! We would have to make a financial sacrifice or change a significant part of our living style, such as our house/mortgage to be able to afford that!

I know that Healthcare and Healthcare Reform are political hot topics. I am not informed on the issues and have no real opinions on such. It's just hard to believe that SOME kind of reform somewhere is not in order. In the mean time, I am just so very thankful for that "luxury" of being able to go to the doctor and being able to get medicine that I or my children need. My heart aches for those mothers who cannot afford that same "luxury."

Knockout

Sometimes you take a break.
Sometimes you are broken.

Overall, I am not someone who gets sick very often, but when I do. I am KNOCKED.OUT! It's as if my mind and body work together to decide when I can afford to "take a break," then they work together to knock me out! Sometimes, there is no break in site and they just "Sweep the Leg" anyway and force me to take one.

This is why I am so sick often on holidays. There is no school and usually less on the community calendar, so it is like my body knows NOW, hit her NOW, when she will actually lay down and recover. My birthday was no exception. With a jam-pack calendar of craziness for the next four weeks, it was not convenient to spend my day in bed, but it wasn't catastrophic to take off a day... not just from school, but from life in general.

I actually did go into work... but it was the shortest work day in the history of my life. In at 7:50, out at 8:30. Right after school yesterday, I started having that fuzzy flu feeling that usually predicts the onset of a funk. Later into the evening, my throat became very sore, and any thought of an impromptu birthday was replaced by huddling under the blankets begging for sleep.

I went into school this morning, though feeling bad, with the plan to go to the doctor's after school to get the antibiotic I probably needed. The boss sent me to the nurse to be checked out first though, and she painted a big red X on my classroom door and sent me home with a suspected virus. She said I was just run down and the swollen glands were a sign of needing rest. Though skeptical that she didn't feel I needed to go to the doctor, honestly she has been more like my PCP over the past 9 years than the doctor has, so I followed her advice.

There was a bit of humor to it all though. Since I insisted on going to my room and setting up for the substitute (I am the one that refused to leave work early just because I was in labor, after all), my class was sent out into the hallway to await further instruction (evacuation plans?) and I was told to close and lock my door (ha!). There were comments about "swine flu" thrown around. I can only imagine the scale that chatter grew to (amongst high schoolers!) by the end of the day.

Of course... I also took the time to stuff my work bag with papers to grade and a vocabulary quiz review to prepare. I have been a pretty good bedridden patient though, save for a few Relay-related phone calls and e-mails, and creating the vocabulary review.

After all, even Wonder Woman can only stay knocked out for so long...

Forty-One

I am sure peppered throughout this blog are proclamations of how much I hate holidays. All holidays. Or, at the very least, there is self-promotion of myself celebrating the holidays in an effort to defer my deeply embedded hatred for holidays. All holidays.

Teacher's Appreciation Day was yesterday. My birthday is today, and Mother's Day is Sunday. I have often felt this week in May should just be declared National McHenry Appreciation Week. Ok, maybe not seriously... but I may just create a Wikipedia page for it and declare it official... hmmm!

That being said, my most dreaded holiday of all holidays is my birthday. Maybe that doesn't qualify as a "legitimate" holiday, but for tonight's purposes it does.

I know it's because I set such high expectations for a magical day- a perfect blending of a Disney Princess movie and "Martha Stewart Entertaining" rolled into one ball of confetti-throwing, candle-blowing bliss. I want to wake up to a room full of balloons and go to bed with paper cuts from all the cards (not even presents) that I opened. That's not setting myself up for failure at all, is it?

Today was a jumble of highs and lows, feeling completely appreciated and feeling completely disrespected,  some peaks & valleys related to my birthday, and some not at all. I'm going to choose to cherish the good things today though rather than allow my frustration about some issues fester within me. My biggest regret over the past year is just how quickly I let it race by. Like most years, it was a complete blur. I want so much to stop life from getting too busy to live in the moment once in a while, and to blog about those moment too, so here's one of them...

I had bus duty in the gym this morning. While away, the kids festooned my room with streamers and birthday signs to greet me when I started the day.

As if that weren't great enough (as much as I joke about wanting accolades, I don't handle such attention well... and may have hid in the Teacher's Work Center to avoid the kids... maybe), they also bought me a Bedazzler. Now, that is awesome for OBVIOUS reasons, but even moreso than the obvious reasons (Sparkle!), I just off-handedly joked around last month about wanting to bedazzle everything after watching "Gypsy Sisters," so it was a gift of reflection, thought, and appreciation. The Starbucks gift card was a pretty spiffy addition too!

But wait! The day's awesomeness did not stop there in all its bedazzled glory! Last night the Relay team waited tables at Pino's Pizza and raised over $600 in tips (and that was following our bountiful lunch spread for Teacher Appreciation Day, which repeated today with enough left-overs for an entirely extra luncheon)! And with that added to our funds raised thus far this year...I need a new poster!

It's a Wrap!

This is not going to be a post bemoaning the end of Spring Break and the return to school tomorrow... although it could be.

I am not going to express regret for not making a To Do List... although I should have.
Or express regret for not actually taking a "break" during Spring Break... although I should have.

I am not going to muse on how the days passed at a leisurely pace at first, and then all too quickly piled on top of one another as they whisked away at the end of the week... although they did. They always do.

Instead, I will just recap the memorable moments of Spring Break 2013.

Because there certainly were some. The most memorable would have to be on Wednesday afternoon. As I was sitting in the living room sewing (Seriously! I was sewing. It was just a button... but I was sewing.), I heard a loud BANG outside. It sounded like when the back end of a tractor trailer with an empty bed hits a bump in the road. I looked out the window just in time to see the cables running from the top of telephone poles snap and fall to the street. When I stepped outside, I saw a truck driving across the neighbor yard and heard wheels spinning. The view was obstructed by the hedge of trees and bushes dividing our yards. When I crossed over to see what was going on... I don't really know how to describe the scene.

An elderly gentleman was driving a truck carrying a flatbed trailer with a riding lawn mower. He hit the telephone pole across from our house then drove two wheels down the sidewalk, knocking out mailboxes, until the truck hit the next telephone pole then tumbled the lawn mower into the middle of the street before racing across the neighbor's yard, stopping just a few feet from crashing into their garage.

The driver was unconscious when I approached the vehicle and for the next several hours our section of the road was shut down to a parade of police cars and fire trucks and ambulances and tow trucks and animal control. What made an intense situation even scarier is that Cameron was in the front yard with the neighbor when the truck came ripping through. It's too much to grasp the reminder of how fragile life is. (Forgive me if that borders dramatic.)

 

 

Cameron filling out his police report for the accident. (Hopefully not a foreshadowing for future dealings with the police.)

On Thursday, Benjamin had an appointment with the doc following one month on a stronger anti-biotic for ear fluid. Unfortunately, it did not help enough and there is still enough fluid behind his ear drums that we are being sent back to the ENT for a follow-up appointment, which will likely lead to new ear tubes. The ones he had put in a bit over a year and a half ago have just recently fallen out, although they are still laying in the ear canal, which makes my own ear twitch a little just to think about.

Perhaps the only good note about our sometimes frequent visit to the doctor is that Benjamin has visited the office often enough without having to get shots that he has no apprehension about going. He fussed at Cameron for sitting in the doctor's chair and when the doc came in he insisted on rolling up his pant legs and showing the doc his "boo boo" (scraped knee). It is, however, incredibly more difficult to entertain (and restrain) him in the examination room now that just crumpling the paper on the tables are not enough entertainment to capture his attention.

Cameron had his first experience in his LTG role for Key Club over Spring Break. He went for Board Training in Herndon, Virginia, Friday - Sunday. Thankfully, he was able to drive up with one of the Adult District Board Members so I only had to drop him off and pick him up from Williamsburg. Friday morning we ran some errands before the drop-off, including picking up presents for Benjamin's birthday, and items for the Relay Team's summer-themed raffle.

I needed beach chairs, towels, and an umbrella with stand. So, we drove out to Virginia Beach to find good deals at the tourist shops. I have to admit that I have felt twinges of jealousy (and maybe even a little hatred... just a tinge) towards all the people on my Facebook page posting their updates and photos from Busch Gardens, the beaches, and Florida (Florida!). We, on the other hand, managed to put our feet in the sand for about 20 minutes between errands.

Looking ahead, after next year's Spring Break, Jason will either be teaching in my school district, or hopefully teaching in a district with the same schedule and taking "real" vacations on school breaks will be an option. In the mean time, I need to strive towards not always bringing so much work home with me. Not having that never-ending To Do list churning through the back of my my mind during the entire break.

Be right back... in 9 weeks

The Myth of Morning People

 

Morning people are mythical creatures, likened to gnomes and pixies. They don't really exist (sorry pixie lovers). I know there are some people who think they are "Morning People," but they are just suffering delusions in an effort to fit into a magical role praised by our work-driven society. It's against the laws of human nature to actually want to get out of bed in the morning.

 

The alarm clock is a natural antagonist to man. Snakes and bears are no enemy in comparison. One well-aimed gunshot strategically-placed humanitarian trap, and those predators lose their power. Alarm clocks though? I have to hack away at thing every ten minutes... up to three seven times... every. single. morning. And on those very rare mornings that I do not have to await the alarm clock's menacing cry, an agent of the little brainwashed militants of the Morning People Army (also known as a toddler), still manages to wake me up before the laws of gravity have engaged for the day, allowing me to lift my head off the pillow.

 

That being said, I must admit that I do love on those rare mornings I do get up and do get productive to look at the clock, usually around 11 in the morning, and think "Wow, is it only 11?" because I am surprised that I have already gotten so much done for the day. Admittedly those days are not too often.

Since the idea of creating a To-Do List for Spring Break was too stressfully cumbersome, I decided to just dedicate each day to a different area of concentration. Monday- Relay (check), Tuesday- Housework (okayyy), Wednesday- Schoolwork (ummm, no), Thursday- Out of town fun & errands (catching up on that schoolwork), Friday- Paperwork (catching up on those errands, no time for fun).

So yeah, that plan lasted until about mid-day on Wednesday when I just could not convince myself to roll up my sleeves and pull out the red pen for schoolwork. Instead, I spent a greater part of the day with Nicole & Jenny. Perhaps you know them?

They are better known in some circles as Snooki and Jwoww. I decided to watch a couple of episodes that have been sitting in the DVR cue for a while, but those dang MTV producers kept hooking me in and I wanted to see what was going to happen next (Roger proposed!). So, I mayyy have watched five episodes, then... I took a nap. A nap!

I don't think I have successfully taken a nap since I was pregnant with Benjamin. I have tried, but either something at home needs my attention or I spend too much time lying there thinking about all that I need to do and should be doing instead of laying around trying to take a nap. This nap was delicious though. I think as close as the human soul can come to Nirvana on Earth are those ten minutes of snuggling back down into the bed after the snooze button (which loses its effect after the third... or seventh, time). Well, this nap was like 60 minutes of that Nirvana.

Unfortunately, that nap was as close as I am going to come to a vacation during this break. So, thankfully... it was a really awesome nap. Thus, I will close with the poem given to my students as an example of hyperbole:

I Swear I Only Napped a Minute

Eyes fluttered shut

Drool formed a pool

The nap was only to last a minute

The sun set

Winters came and went

The nap was only to last a minute

Wrinkles formed

Young men grew white beards

The nap may have lasted more than a minute

Some Books for the Younguns (YA Fiction Reviews)

So, about those lil' tabs across the top of my page... yeah, those... the ones that could lead someone into believing I am a cooking, crafting, literary extraordinaire?

Well, about that.

Confession #1- Since school started, I do believe the only time I have used a recipe was to make cookies for the exchange.

Confession #2- I have yet to complete the set of two (two!) coasters I was making out of repurposed tiles that I started back in September,

BUT! I have managed to continue reading (probably because it is a lot easier to read in the bath tub at night than to cook or craft... go figure).

Unfortunately, I have not been good at blogging reviews about what I have read. I am trying to catch up on that though. For a while there, my reading taste went from Young Adult to Erotic Fiction, and back, and forth. (We're going to pretend "eclectic" is an appropriate word to describe that weirdness.) To not proliferate that weirdness eclectic reading genre, I decided to break my "catching up" into "The Naughties," previously blogged about, and "For the Younguns," now.

Also unfortunate is that some of these books I finished as long ago as five months ago, so I can offer no more than a brief overview and reaction.

Gym Candy by Carl Deuker

This book is pretty easy to summarize- football, football, football, dad living vicariously through son to hide thrown away chances of his former youth, football, football, football, player turning to steroids in fear of being replaced by younger guy, football, football, football, steroids causing player to lose place on team, friends, and potential girlfriend.

Oh... and football, football, football.

Seriously, there is a LOT of football in this book- like entire chapters just describing the action on the field during a game. Now, some may expect that the plot considering what the book was about. However, for those of us not at all (AT ALL) interested in the game of football, football, football- it was mind-numbing.

This is a good read for that kid that sees himself as the stereotypical jock that isn't supposed to like reading. It's a good boy read. You do spend a lot of time inside the narrator's head and it's written in a way to make you believe in the conflict he is feeling between making decisions he knows are wrong and having to keep his place on the team.

Big Girl Small by Rachel DeWoskin

This was one of the books given to me for my classroom library from the graduate course I took on promoting independent reading in English classes. It was part of a list of novels that were written for adult audiences but included themes for a young adult crowd. Surprisingly Hunger Games was part of that same list, so I almost wonder if the adult and young adult roles in that classification didn't get switched around.
 
It's the story of a sixteen-year-old girl, that is a "Little Person", and decides to transfer to a performing arts school because she is an amazing singer. The novel opens though with Judy living in a motel, next door to a rather creepy guy that does not speak but appears to be her only friend, as she seemingly hides away from news reporters. The story unfolds to reveal the events that led up to her secluding herself away from family and schoolmates in a way that pulls in the reader, especially the young adult reader, in wanting to know what she did that was so awful.
 
The narrator's voice is strong and well-developed. You see into her mind as she deals with the usual stresses of high school- making new friends, trying to fit in and having a crush on the popular boy. You also see those high school stresses amplified in a playground where you are judged on your creativity- from the way you decorate your locker, to your talent- including which role you will land in the next musical. Of course, all of these emotions and conflicts are highlighted by the spotlight Judy lives in on an everyday basis, due to her being vertically challenged.
 
I was drawn into the novel immediately. I liked the voice and I was interested in the plot. When I told a co-teacher that I was reading the book, she commented about it being "dark" or "twisted," and I immediately thought there was no way she had actually read the book. Then...  I understood. The stardom that was thrust upon Judy by a few of her classmates was not at all the stage for popularity she had hoped for.

Burned by Ellen Hopkins

This was a novel that I learned about in that same graduate program. It was one of the "STD Books" (because it got passed around a lot) or a "Hooker Book" (because it hooked kids into reading). I kept hearing about it and then saw it in the piles of discarded lit at the Habitat Re-Store and grabbed it!
 
Although not a "large" book in dimensions, it is a THICK book- 531 pages thick, which may stop many young readers from opening it up. But when they do, and see that it is written in poetic form, they just may be too intrigued to turn away. The unique structure of the book's text does make it a quick read, despite the volume.
 
And, it's a good read. Pattyn is raised in a Mormon family, that while it doesn't seem to quite fit the  genre of Fundamental, is definitely part of a close-knit religious-based community. She gathers with the other teens each morning to pray before going to public school (in her traditional dress), and spends each night hiding away the secrets of her father's alcoholism and abuse.
 
When Pattyn tests the boundaries of her father and her community with too many conflicts- questions about religion and interest in a boy, she is sent away to live with an Aunt in Nevada. The Aunt, although a very private person, had too many of the same conflicts with the life from which Pattyn comes. As a result, Pattyn gains a lot of freedom through what was meant to be her isolation in the middle of rural country.
 
Certain developments in the novel are a bit trite and too easy to predict. The writing is brutal though- raw emotion that often makes you feel punched in the gut. Then, the frustration you feel when the book ends, unresolved... punches you in the gut again when you slam it shut in frustration... and see the title... and understand. Sometimes the most powerful words are those unspoken, or unwritten.

Almost Home by John Bauer

I picked this up at the high school's book fair. I have to admit it was a "Sucker" buy. I was suckered into the book by the fact that when this young girl's life falls apart though homelessness and abandonment, she still gains self-worth through the very distant connection maintained with her English teacher. I was probably even a little suckered by the fact that English teacher's name was Mr. Bennett, and James M. Bennett High School is my Alma mater. Then, even that puppy. Look at him! He is very well-casted for the book jacket to fit his descriptions in the novel.

 

I would have to say that the reading level of this book is more middle school than high school, and the main character is one that middle school girls are going to relate to better. Still, it is a good story. Although written simply, several twists to the plot are unexpected, and the conflict the main  character feels towards her mother is well-developed. Namely, after struggling to find normalcy with a delusionally eccentric mother and trying to force a sense of self-worth into a mother who allows men of no worth define her, should Sugar feel guilty that she finds stability in a life away from her mother just as her mother is gaining the tools to be better in that role? The characters are a bit extremely stereo-typed beyond Sugar herself. However, I can very much see this story translate into a Lifetime-produced movie.

 

 

Skinny by Donna Cooner

I really like the main idea around which this book centers. Ever Davies is 15 years old and has a gastric bypass. When I read the author's notes following the novel, I was unsurprised to see that the author had herself had a gastric bypass and writing this book was a type of self-therapy for her to resolve the conflict she felt between who she was and who she now sees herself to be. I think this would make a much more interesting and appropriate novel for the adult reader. I don't like the idea of promoting such radical weight loss surgeries to adolescents. Parts of the novel also didn't feel believable, likely because the author was imposing an adult inner conflict on an adolescent character.

 

That feeling of unbelievability was also compounded by the metaphor of that "voice" telling you that you are never "good enough" manifesting as an actual Tinkerbell-like fairy that whispers into the main character's ear. That aspect of the novel, of course, plays much better in a young adult novel than it ever could to an older audience. There were two other conflicts introduced though that I found very interesting. The first was with a popular girl who would have never acknowledged Ever, at least in any good way, prior to her surgery. Once she began to visibly shed weight at a quickened pace though, she became almost a make-over pet project for the class mate. I imagine this is a relationship dynamic the author may have faced in her actual weight loss journey- the idea of someone attaching themselves to your success so that by symbiosis they receive some of the admiration and praise.

 

The other interesting dynamic was the discovery of the main character at the novel's end that perhaps she wasn't as victimized as much as she made herself a victim to the ostracization and what she interpreted as judgment and cruelty from others. It's an interesting concept to ponder even in my own life- how often am I the one to label myself an "other" and assume I am rejected by the norm because of my size vs. how often is that really the case? Perhaps not as much as I think it is, and perhaps my defenses to perceiving it that way is sometimes what actually perpetuates the responses that I go into situations expecting (this concept is much less confusing in my head... and doesn't require a fairy to explain).

 

As I said, the premise behind this book, and several of the topics explored and conflicts developed could have made for a very interesting book aimed at an adult audience. And not just those whose identity is tied to their weight because so many of those same conflicts are universal across whatever standard we use to judge ourselves needlessly. 

Spring Break 2013

 

Spring Break is upon us - three days down, six days to go (weekends included, of course, because I want it to sound like as long of a stretch as possible). I have tried so hard to stick to my resolution of not being one of those people counting down to the summer or next break... or even praising the arrival of Friday. I don't want to wish my life away, and I try to encourage others (namely, co-teachers) to not do so either.

 

That being said, I am very thankful for the timeliness of this Spring Break. This semester has just rushed by; the whole school year has been a blur. And while the days are quickly passing, the tasks on my "To Do" list are not. So much going on... always so much going on. I should be a list maker, but the idea of a "To Do" list stresses me out; once started, I don't know when it could end.

 

Still though, such a list may not be a bad idea for this Spring Break to help me prioritize my goals for all this "free time." Oh yes, that is sarcasm - to the immeasurable degree. I am thankful for the timing of this break not to get away from work, but to give me a little extra time to catch up on all my work- at school, at home, and with Relay.

 

 

Save for a couple of loads of laundry, I have spent the greater part of my day from early morning until late night, planning a party. Exactly two months from today, about a thousand of my closest friends will gather at the high school's football field to Celebrate, Remember, and Fight Back.

Time is such an antagonist to me. It just slips right through my hands, like trying to grab a fistful of sand. I swear, it seems some days, like the more time I have the less I can get done. In a typical month, I can get the final details together to prepare for a Relay meeting in the small window of time between school and Relay.Today, with the whole day stretched before me, and having spent that whole day working on Relay, I was still scurrying at the last minute to pull things together and felt unprepared going into the meeting. This, in part, comes from my deficit of always feeling "I could have done more."

Of course, given the more free day, I did squeeze in a couple of abnormal Relay errands, such as running to Wal-Mart for meeting snacks (popcorn and soda for Disney movie trivia) and meeting with my former-Key Clubber-turned-Relay Committee Member for lunch to discuss fundraising and overnight activities. That former Key Clubber, who I affectionately dubbed "Radar" for his ability to know what I needed before I asked, actually paid for my lunch today. He adamantly refused to allow me to pay for it.

Oh, it is sad to see my kids growing up some days (but other days there are perks ;)

With Liberty and Justice for All

There are some "social" issues that I have strong beliefs about. For example, abortion and the death penalty. I believe in the sanctity of life from conception to death. I do not believe that man has the god-given right to terminate a life, whether it is a life in the womb or a life buried away from society in a prison cell. I think it creates a scary world when we give one man the right to determine the worthiness of another man's life. Rather than diverge into a list of arguments to debate these positions though, I only mention them, to raise the point that although I have strong opinions on such controversial issues, I still respect the right for people to have opinions which differ from mine... despite how failed their logic may be.

Being so adamantly Pro-Life may lead some to the belief that I am a "Conservative."

However, an issue I feel equally passionate about is equality. Equality in the workplace and in the bedroom, and in every niche of society between the two. Equality in race and age, in gender and body types, in educational opportunities and socioeconomic status, and in sexual orientation.

Yes, this is a post about Marriage Equality, or more specifically the Defense of Marriage Act- the latest "trendy" social hot topic that has Facebook turning red, whether with a pink equality sign in support of Marriage Equality or images of the equality signs perverted into a cross to show opposition of overturning the law preventing government recognition of same-sex marriage.

Earlier in the week, I texted Jason to ask if he knew why so many folks on Facebook were changing their profile pics to the red & pink equal sign. He asked if I knew about DOMA. So... of course, I did a quick Google search and replied, "oh yeah, Defense of Marriage Act, I just didn't know what the sudden impetus was."

The truth is, even though I only learned about "DOMA" a few days ago, this has been an issue that has confused me for a long time. It confuses me both politically and religiously.

Politically. We are a patriotic family. My husband is a retired veteran, and the first 10 years of our lives together were spent with him deployed as often as he was home. I truly believe that our family dedicated our lives to the pursuit and defense of American freedom. However, that is in direct conflict with defending a government that strips so many citizens of a very basic human right- the freedom of choosing who we love.

I don't want to get into the debate of whether people are "born gay" or "choose gay." Although, I will throw something out there. I had a "girl crush" on Madonna for most of my teenage years, to be later replaced by Sandra Bullock. I can look at a woman and think, "Wow, she's beautiful." Yet, I do not feel a sexual attraction towards her. I did not "choose" to create that barrier; the attraction simply doesn't exist. Likewise, most of the people in my life for whom that barrier does not exist, for whom the object of their attraction is their own gender, I don't feel they made that "choice" either. On the contrary, most people I know struggled not to associate themselves with that ostracized sector of society and "chose" to shove away those authentic feelings until they just couldn't be contained any longer.

Thankfully, we are a society becoming slowly more tolerant of variations in sexual orientation. Unfortunately, as a government, we are not. My fundamental confusion on the issue politically is... Why is the government given the power to determine who we can or can't marry? I can marry someone of a different race. I can marry an illegal citizen. I can marry someone of a different religion, or no religion at all. I can marry a convict in prison. I can marry someone twice my age, or more. I can marry someone half my age, or even a minor with parental permission. I can marry someone that has been divorced again and again... and again. I can marry any human being on this Earth that I wish... unless we share the same number of X and Y chromosomes.

I am just at a complete loss on how this is possible in a country founded on principles of freedom. I don't even know HOW to debate the legality of such laws because it is such a flagrant disregard of the constitutional rights on which all laws of this country should be based.

A government that is allowed to create laws determining who its citizens can and cannot marry is just one step removed from a country that controls how many children a family can have. If you are unsure how that story ends, Google "female infanticide."

For me, the government issue is black and white. We are in the wrong, and it needs to be made right.

Religiously, this topic has so many twists and convolutions that there is no end to my confusion. The most common argument I saw against homosexuality this week involved Levitican law. Leviticus?! Just today, I sat down for Easter dinner with my husband (of my second marriage), he having been recently shaved and myself having had my hair cut just last week. We had ham for Easter dinner... with the fat... oh, and our clothes were of mixed fabrics. Ah hell, we just broke six Levitican laws right there, why even worry about sexual immorality?

To pull some antiquated Old Testament scripture out of context to defend an argument is futile to me. It's the same thing that happens when someone wants to use the Bible to tout the virtues of women being subservient to men, or the the "right" to beat children. Read just a few scriptures before or after the one being referenced and often the entire context of the argument will change.

However, let's say that's not always true. Let's say that there are many scriptures in the Old Testament referencing God's disgrace towards homosexuality. Let's say that God condemned the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah purely based on the sins of one man laying with another. Even if we could say that, what does it matter? Unless you are of the Jewish faith, why are you using Old Testament arguments to defend Christianity?

I will be the first to admit that I have tried to read the Bible from Genesis to Revelations many times, and failed every time. I will be the first to admit that I am of wavering faith often, and by no means exalting myself as a Biblical scholar. However, isn't the very essence of Christianity based on the premise that Old Testament law is no longer relevant? The crucifixion of Christ is what opened the doors to all, not living in allegiance to antiquated laws.

So then, let's carry this discussion into the New Testament. I imagine there are scriptures there too that could be used to defend morality against homosexuality. And if there are not, I am sure there are scriptures that are vague enough to be twisted into such. I'm sure this is true of many acts of immorality, from which we only want to highlight those that don't apply to our own lives. (Well, homosexuality must be a bigger sin than pre-marital sex, right?) However, when did the Christian God become one of such exclusion and hatred?

Jesus lived among the sexually immoral. He brought others into his faith by inclusiveness, not judgment and damnation. Today, Jesus would be in hospitals and hospices visiting AIDS patients. He would be volunteering in homeless shelters, talking to women who believe their only option for survival is prostitution. He would be driving by the strip clubs that proliferate around military bases, offering rides home to the drunken Sailors stumbling out of their doors at 2 a.m. He would be offering love and compassion, not only to those who lived like him and believed like him, but more importantly, to those who did not.

Ultimately, I believe in tolerance. I think the person who believes homosexuality is immoral and same sex marriage is an abomination has every right to his or her opinion. Likewise, I believe those who support Marriage Equality are equally deserving of their opinions. I do not believe that either side of the argument should be judged or persecuted for their beliefs. I see just as many Christians being condemned for their close-mindedness in social media as I do Equal Right supporters being bashed for Pro-Gay views. Neither side of the battle is in the right. Tolerance is the only answer.

The most truthful statement I have seen from this whole debate came from Rick Warren, the evangelical pastor who authored The Purpose Driven Life:

 

Disagreement, fear, hatred. Agreement, love, compassion. No matter which side of the argument you do or do not support. No matter which side of the argument I do or do not support. That is our belief. That is our right. And I do not believe the government should sit in a sovereign position to determine it for us.

A Good Day

Yesterday was... A Good Day.

It was a self-centered... and a self-centering day.

It was a day of peace. A vacation from life. And I want to take a few moments to reflect on it before delving back into the chaos of my everyday. There is a very chaotic week indeed ahead of me, so even though Spring Break is next week (beginning at 1:00 p.m. this Friday to be precise), it was a good day to take a break.

I "stayed in bed" until 10ish. Jason and I often get into a semantics debate between the definition of "sleeping in" and "staying in bed." Having been awoken several times by the cadence of noise that accompanies an awakened two-year old, I refuse to say I "slept in." Jason would disagree. Either way, it was a great luxury to be in bed so late on any given day, even weekend, with my schedule as of late.

I had an appointment to get my hair cut at noon (and  had to drive an hour into civilization to get there). According to their file, it had been nearly a year since I last had my hair cut (and permed at the time). It does not seem like it could possibly be that long ago. But either it's another testament to me being too busy and life rushing by far too fast... or I had blocked out the horrible experience entirely. I don't feel like the cut is exactly what I wanted but it looked good and I am for the most part happy with it... not so happy with the fact that I know it's one of those "do's" that will never look the same as when the stylist did it. And although not a bad experience, I did leave with the feeling again that the higher-priced salons just aren't worth it for me... only in part because of the $50 small bottles of shampoo & conditioner she tried to guilt me into... or the very weird way in which she kept whispering in my ear about vitamins as she washed my hair.

I tried taking a picture while it was still looking hair-iffic, but I just couldn't accept any of the shots as post-worthy... exacerbated by having seen pics of myself posted from a Boy Scout ceremony last week... ugh.

And this is the better picture!

Anyway... my next stop was to the pottery studio to pick up bowls from a project the Key Clubbers did, and they look absolutely amazing. I am so excited for the kids to see how the turned out.

Then, I went to Lane Bryant and tried on a ton of clothes, almost all shirts, as normal, since I apparently have dwarf legs and require petite pants even though I am the perfectly average height of 5'6. (Tangent much?) Surprisingly I found several tops that I liked... and that fit well... and that were appropriate for work... and were 40% off. Score! It's not a financially smart time for me to be out clothes shopping right now... but the clothing goddesses were just too generous for me to reject their gifts this time. Besides, there are only so many times that I can keep rotating the same outfits... the product of a very stuffed closet, but unproductive wardrobe as far as comfort and fit anymore...

I also found new pj pants for the "Pajama Fashion Show" for Relay this year. They are purple with  loud flowers all over them. Most perfect for the occasion.

I had already decided before leaving town that I would catch the 5:05 showing of "Admissions." I lovelovelove Tina Fey. The movie was great, well-casted and interesting plot, humorous and heart-felt at the same time.

Lastly, I grabbed a Starbucks and read two chapters of my latest novel. Catching a movie at 5 and Starbucks at 7 as good timing; both were pretty deserted. I had the entire lounge area to myself and obnoxiously kicked my feet up on the leather couch with me to read. (I am rather easily pleased by the small surprises in life... and Starbucks).

The night ended finally watching "Pitch Perfect" with Jason and Cameron, after Benjamin went to bed. It was as funny as I thought it would be, though very predictable. A slight misfortune was that pretty much every good quip by "Fat Amy" had already been included in the previews. She is such a dynamic oddball; I can't wait to see what she's next.

And although, Benjamin cruising into our bedroom playing on my iPhone was our 5:50 a.m. wake-up call this morning, I was able to soak in a hot bath and finish my novel, then crawl back into bed for a few hours (but not "sleep in"), thanks to a husband who is much more of a morning person than I am.

It was a good day.

I Almost Make a Difference

One of the duties privileges I inherited with my role as Key Club advisor was to host the high school's bi-annual Red Cross Blood Drive. The early drives in my tenure averaged about a collection rate of 65 pints. The number went down when more strict weight requirements were adopted for females and then back up when sixteen-year-olds became eligible to donate (with parent permission). Now, I average 90 pints per collection. We have to park a Bloodmobile with 4 extra beds outside the auditorium door to handle the overflow. And at the end of the day, I still have to turn away students that we just couldn't fit in. It's a pretty amazing day... twice a year.

"A great day to save lives," I (borrow from Grey's Anatomy and) post to Facebook the morning each drive.

There are several kids that I know just from the blood drive- kids that I have never taught. It's such an easy and meaningful way for kids to get involved. It's surprising some times to see who signs up to give. And give, and give again. I had two brothers that with this blood drive became "Gallon Donors" for giving their 8th pint. I have always said that my bottom-line sense of achievement doesn't come from reaching the "goal" set upon me by Red Cross, but by feeling that I have instilled in some kids the desire to continue being blood donors long after their high school years.

In honor of my Sweet 16th Blood Drive I tried to give blood for the first time. I like to make it sound like a noted occasion, but the truth is... I finally just built up the nerve. And, I tried to do it very early in the day before I lost the nerve again. Alas, it was not to be done though because my iron was too low. After expressing my shock at the abnormally high number of girls being turned away for low iron, I joined their number. It had not even been a consideration to me that I would have low iron. I know I don't eat any semblance of a healthy diet but I (wrongly) presumed that just by eating more than enough, my iron level would certainly be more than enough. I was even contemplating whether I should Double Donate since it might make me "unavailable" to supervise the drive for a longer period of time. Wrong. The only "battle wounds" I had for the day were two pricked fingers. Sadly, when they picked the second finger for a re-count, it was even lower than the first! (12.0 vs. 12.3)



No, I have absolutely no ideas why I posed as if I were throwing gang signs.