catheroominations

This is for Matte.

You can make your own here.

[Disclaimer: I know some of you like to view my blog with your kids. You should send them to watch Dora right now. I’m just saying.]

I don’t usually ever get political here on my blog. But I’ve been seething about something since even before November 4, 2008. Were it not for Barack Obama beating John McCain to become our 44th president on Tuesday night, I might be led to spit in the face of someone with a certain sign in their front yard, or a bumper sticker on their SUV (usually right next to their McCain/Palin sticker). But my thrill from Obama’s victory makes me want to be a better American, so I refrain. And also, BARACK OBAMA IS OUR NEW PRESIDENT! Hooray!

What has caused my rage is Proposition 8, or as it should be called “Proposition Hate.” You know the one, the idiot proposition that passed on Tuesday which means that the California Constitution will be AMENDED to REMOVE the RIGHT of homosexuals to marry. Now, it’s been a while since I’ve been in school, but I seem to recall from history class that amendments are written to GRANT rights, not take them away. And those amendments are usually written to give rights to those who were previously unfairly judged and discriminated against. But this time, my home state of California has chosen to amend our constitution TO judge and discriminate. It’s despicable and it makes me want to puke on someone’s lawn, right next to that bright yellow and blue sign showing a stick-figure hetero family holding hands. (Yes, the signs are still up.)

So congratulations California. You’ve made me angry at people I don’t even know. I’m mad at those people who put this proposition on the ballot in the first place. People who can’t leave well enough alone. People who DON’T EVEN LIVE IN CALIFORNIA and donated money to support this proposition.

Apparently more than half of California voters busy themselves with gay people’s business and decided to take away their right to marry. But no one can no one ever will take away their right to love one another. Also, and this is a big FYI – even if they cannot marry, there will always BE gay people. Always. They’ll still work with you, be parents to your kids’ classmates, ring up your groceries, and OH MY GOD give you medical examinations.

“Civil ceremonies are a ridiculous consolation prize. Same-sex couples should be treated like PEOPLE, because that’s what THEY ARE. I have many, many gay friends and it makes me sad to know that they can no longer marry. Matte and I photographed a gay wedding ceremony on the 26th of October. The couple wanted to be sure to get married soon, just in case, and didn’t have time or money to plan for a professional photographer. There was so much love at that wedding. The families were thrilled, everyone was smiling, and people (not even guests at the wedding) came up afterward and told the girls they hoped other couples would still be able to join lives in marriage after November 4.

How did this state full of “crazy” bleeding-heart liberals let this pass? And let it pass in the same year we elected our FIRST AFRICAN AMERICAN PRESIDENT? WTF California? In case my feelings for Prop 8 are not clear from reading this, here’s a photo that sums it up:

*I got this idea from Alison, who got it from AndreAnna, who got it from Swistle, who got it from Allen.

Three years ago tomorrow, Matte and I had our first date. I wrote about it once, here.

It took me a long time to find him, and if I had to do it all over again, I would relive all the lonely nights doing jigsaw puzzles, horrible first dates with match dot com guys, hours of 10-minute dating sessions, and bad boyfriends, if it meant I would end up with Matte in the end.

I never thought I could be so happy or find someone so perfect for me. And gotdamnit if we don’t make a cute couple.

Photo by Saj.

This week I had planned to spend some girl time with my good friend MB in Napa. She’s here from Lexington, KY and meeting some of her gal pals for a week of wine tasting, pampering and possibly some piercing or permanent inking in honor of a milestone birthday.

Unfortunately, I had to cancel because I was asked to take my boss’ place at a training course this week. In Mexico. I quickly renewed my passport, picked an awesome hotel with fantastic photo opportunities, and was learning things like one should never say “Yo soy caliente,” unless one means “hot” in the Paris Hilton sense and not the “I am sweating my face off” sense. And then aye caramba, just days after I told MB I couldn’t make it to Napa, my plans changed. Mexico was out, because my services were requested in North Carolina to help with a documentation emergency. I’m just a tech writer. I don’t feel important enough or smart enough to fly out here and help (the depth of my self-esteem knows no bounds). When this trip was presented to me (read: when I was told I was going to work in NC), it was suggested that I come Every. Single Week. That’s right. Fly out every Monday and home every Friday. But that’s not feasible for several reasons, so I’m here this week and next and then we’ll see where we go from there.

This morning, I awoke at 3:45 AM. (That 3:45 was in all caps, by the way, because I was yelling it.) Three forty-five in the morning is not morning. It’s still night. But I got up and was at SFO in plenty of time for my early morning flight. I felt like a zombie. I was there, but not really there and I didn’t remember how I got there. So, when I saw someone I thought I knew, I wasn’t surprised I couldn’t remember his name. Also, turns out, I didn’t know him, exactly. It was Adam from Myth Busters and he was standing near me at the security check point. He is much taller than I thought. Also, he’s kinda hot, in a geeky way. Señor Savage es caliente.

So here I sit in a Residence Inn, while Matte gets DirecTV installed at our house, clears out our apartment, bolts bookcases to the walls for earthquake safety, gets the fence repaired that the fumigators busted into slats, waits for AT&T to set up our phones, and generally gets us moved in to our house. I would much rather be there, helping him, (and watching the cats slide all over the hardwood floors) but I sort of need this job to help pay that mortgage we just signed up for for the next 30 years.

…sometimes it’s because you just bought a lemon tree.

… and maybe with this lemon tree, you have visions of fresh-squeezed lemonade, lemon sorbet, chicken piccata, lemon vinaigrette, lemon meringue pie, margaritas, hefeweizen, lemon bars, garnishes for cosmopolitans before you go see Sex and the City on the silver screen.
keep reading When life hands you lemons…

It’s 11 pm. I am tired. Tired because I took my first Zumba class tonight, followed by Pilates. Because I am hard core like that. Or an idiot. We’ll see tomorrow if I am able to get up out of bed. Since I am too exhausted to write, here’s a photo I took for today’s 7 Days submission (click the link to the Flickr group in my sidebar to see some awesome shots from others).

Some days are good just because you realize how much someone loves you.