T. and I are excited as heck to say that, should our friends and relations wish to gift us with virtual toaster ovens, pasta makers, and juicers, we are registering with Marriage Equality USA!

You can donate in honor of us (trollcatz and T., or Daphne and Tricia, as you like) and even add a note that will appear on the site. How cool is this?*


*answer: Very!

If I were twenty, this would be about love, romance, playing dress-up, learning more about my in-laws than I wanted to, panicking over trivialities, forgetting to order the cake, somebody's uncle getting embarrassingly drunk at the reception, discovering that my mother-in-law's best friend is obsessed with some bizarre tradition about symbolically kidnapping the bride, wondering if I should have rented a limousine, and finding that the photographer didn't get a single good picture of my dad.

But I'm not twenty. So this is about politics.

Historically, weddings have been about politics. For a while there, though, at least for people who didn't run countries or hold million-dollar interests in multinational corporations, we got them around to where they were pretty much about two people, and love, and maybe children, and definitely the decision to file jointly.

But weddings are about marriages. And any marriage now, no matter who's marrying whom, is a political act, because of who can marry and who can't, where they can marry, where they're suddenly un-married if they cross a state line, and whether the votes of a few hundred strangers can un-marry them without their say-so.

Once it was illegal for a person whose genes came entirely from Europe to marry someone who had Asian genes, or African ones--and wouldn't those people have been shocked to learn that all our genes came from Africa? This is how it was for those couples; they might find a haven where they could commit to each other, have sex, worry together about paying the bills, argue over how many acres to plant that year, smile at each other across the dinner table. Outside that haven, all bets were off.

T. and I are going to get as legally bound to each other as we can be in the District of Columbia. Socially, we can only be as bound as people around us are willing to acknowledge. But the downstairs neighbors--male and female--have a bond that's recognized legally in every state, by the federal government, and, through reciprocity, in other countries. Socially, all they have to say is, "We're married," for their relationship to be recognized and respected by whoever they talk to, no matter where they go.

Getting married is a political act. It's lovely and giddy...and grave, and deeply significant. Those of you who can marry, do it with the solemn awareness that you're allowed a place in the world that other people are barred from. We're happy to see you there, and hope you treat it with care. Because one day we want to be there, too.

* * *

It was a lovely engagement party. Dad brought four bottles of wine that I've seen the price of in the store and wondered if I would ever drink anything that cost that much per ounce. (And yes, it really was that good.) When the Cowboy came in the door, T. gave him a big, strong hug as if he were her long-absent brother (how does she know to do these things? Can I learn?), and I saw that hard, sad bit inside dissolve, at least for one night. Mom explained that she and Ben eloped because her high school best friend had had a nice Jewish wedding, complete with carrying the bride and groom around the dance floor on chairs, and her best friend got dropped and broke her wrist on her wedding day, which convinced Mom that weddings were dangerous. Wonder Woman said, "If I'd had as much sense about who to marry as you do, I'd still be married." Duke, passing by, chimed in, "I knew who not to marry; does that count?"

Wabbit--I know, sis. And you are the bravest of all the brave critters. If not doing it would make things better for you, I would not do it. But you made sure to tell me that would be stupid. Whether it would be or not, thank you.

Platypus, wurds r lame. I don't have any good enough. You make me strong and smart just by expecting me to be. You never complained when I dogged on the rope. I'm here whenever you need to pause for breath.

PTSD (6,522)
Coyote (1)


The knife is in the drawer. Damn it.

Yeah, I know. It doesn't seem like much. Hell, it isn't much.

But it's something.

Second day back at work. Let's see if I can do this one without any panic attacks.

Harpy's right. I do feel a little better, physically. Or, no, that's not right. I still feel awful. But I can do more while feeling awful.

Interesting how fast you get used to not being in an office for hours on end. This stuff really isn't natural, yo. I'll adapt, though, and pretty soon I will be able to do eight, ten, fifteen hours standing on my head.

Okay, not literally standing on my head. That's still beyond my limited abilities.

Still working through how I feel about Daphs and T. getting married. Judging by the cowboy's face when the Harpy broke the news this morning, I wasn't the only one with a complicated response. But he cowboyed up, because he does. Poor Cowboy.

Still, you go on, right?

The knife is still sitting in its box on the counter in the teeny kitchen, though I did open the box. Small victories. Of course, now I'm avoiding going in there where I might see it. Gotta do something about that tonight.

And Duke brought in an apple pie for breakfast (okay, two: one for me and Hafs and one for everybody else), and the news that he's going to San Diego for Liz's wedding in August. Liz's wedding =/= Duke's wedding, however. He seems surprisingly okay with it, and apparently this has been building for for a while. He was rather crestfallen that Harpy showed up with a better story (Harpy FTW!), because you could kind of tell he was luring us down the garden path with the saga of Liz's ex-boyfriend from Ireland who came all the way to America for her, and who could turn that down?

I wonder if it's true.

So if there's some kind of wedding contagion in the air, it's not directly WTF-related.

I wonder if there's anybody in the world who would follow me all the way to another country.

Dammit, be happy for her. It's not that hard. And it's not like she doesn't deserve it. Don't be a shitty friend. What's the thing the Cowboy says? "Think of what an asshole would do, and do something else?"

Yeah.

Massage therapy today, which has in its favor that it's better than PT. Nice day today too. I wonder if I feel up to a walk down to the Puerto Rican place for dinner. Haven't been there since Amarilis, but I'm unlikely to run into her on a Thursday night, and I kind of miss it.

And after dinner, train time. It has to be tonight, because Daphs and T. are having people over Friday.

I wonder where I'll wind up, what I'll learn that I wish I hadn't, tonight?

All right, kid, stop moping. Everybody else cowboys up. You can too. A death spiral is nobody's friend, and these files aren't going to scan themselves.

Account Structure Update
Back by popular demand, Basic Accounts will be available to all users again by the end of the (northern hemisphere) summer. More information on the decision-making process and proposals relating to the future of Basic Accounts are in lj_2008.

New Themes
Two attractive and all-new Flexible Squares themes, "Circular" and "Circular Brown" are now available.


L to R: Circular and Brown

New V-Gifts
Give someone you care about the gift of enticement. With the new Chocolate Ice Cream, Vanilla Ice Cream, Tea, Coffee, Curry and Sushi v-gifts, all the significant people in your life will be able to share in the longing for the tasty edibles below. Plus, it reminds loved ones you think they're really sweet, really savory or just plain satisfying.


L to R: Chocolate Ice Cream, Vanilla Ice Cream, Tea, Coffee, Curry and Sushi

Ж-Men...but not the ones you might expect!
This week LJ Russia launched Ж-Men, a new comedy series about superheroes, inspired by the LJ communities dedicated to superheros, comics and cartoons. The title's "Ж" comes from ЖЖ, the nickname for LiveJournal in Russia.

Ж-Men's script is written by a group of LJ enthusiasts who also happen to be television professionals. Who knew? Following the premiere, five more episodes will be broadcast over the next two weeks. We hope you find the series fresh and enjoyable.

This is, of course, an experiment for LiveJournal. As always, we'd love to hear what you think!

But...

...yeah.

I feel pretty good with it, you know?

Still weighing dates. There's the university schedule, and T.'s family, and my dad, and ohgawd sure as shit whenever it is something will happen and I'll have to get on the plane and all our planning will be for naught.

But we want a Thing, we do. It's an act of defiance.

Also an excuse for a party.

Heh.

Jealous, a little.

And yet.... dude. I get to be my best girl's best man. Well. All right

Also, Senator McCain? Bite me.

No, harder.

Asswipe.

...I know it's late, but are you up for visitors? If not, it'll wait 'til tomorrow.

...I would have crawled nekkid over broken glass to have two adopted moms. Or two adopted dads.

It's easier to say stuff like that when you don't know what you're talking about, Senator.

First day back. Well, half-day.

And now I get to go eat and then to PT and then home to camp out on the Beach with a book while it's still warm.

Summer is good. We like summer.

--talking to people is hard.

But maybe worth it. Maybe?

Please?

linebyline
A writing prompt where members respond to single phrases and use them in their posts.

plants
A community for green thumbs, botany enthusiasts and lovers of plant life.

mst3k
The LiveJournal destination for Mystery Science Theater 3000 fans.

It's just a tool, Chaz. You have to open the box before you can use the tool. This is where food comes from.

You cannot live on takeout and peanut butter forever.

Come on. Any damned fool who can jump off a perfectly good condo tower can pick up a goddamned kitchen knife. Really, son. You're disappointing me.

She says I can come back on light duty starting Wednesday.

Which is good, because I'm going to start painting my toenails and eating the walls--or eating my toenails and painting the walls--if I don't have something to do here soon.

3) It's supposed to be in the 90s today. If I can manage to walk up the stairs with a lawn chair and I remember how to pick a lock, the Beach is open!!! At least until the thunderstorms roll in.

(There is nobody on the roof to see you take your shirt off, cowboy. And it's not like midlife skin cancer is a concern. Go make some vitamin D. Stop making excuses. You can do your PT out in the sun.)

4) while we're on the subject, silicon gel and pressure pad therapy seems to be working, and while I've got some hypertrophy (probably more on the right wrist, because of the cast, but we'll see when it comes off), no giant cauliflower keloids yet. Maybe no giant cauliflower keloids at all. Maybe someday soon I'll even be able to lift my arms high enough to change the damned dressings myself.

5) Cast comes off three weeks from Monday. !!!!

6) The PT is getting easier. And my range of motion is improving. Which means Mark will give me harder things to do on Monday. Harder things to do means getting stronger.

7) Scrambled eggs without puking.

And that's all the gratitude I got today.

I waffled for a long time between the knife I bought and the Shun Classic left-hander at, you know, slightly more than half the price. Okay, so I spent way more money than somebody on disability should probably be spending. But since the whole point is to spend so much damned money on the thing that I will force myself to use it, I bought the better one. Also, this one I can use in either hand. Dunno, maybe it will help.

I haven't actually been able to bring myself to open the box yet. Just looking at the pictures online and knowing I have one like it in the kitchen kind of makes me feel like putting my head between my knees. I made a deal with myself, though, which was that tomorrow we were going to open the box, and Monday we were going to actually touch the knife. Tuesday we will take it out of the box and put it in the drawer rack.

And so on.

Because a guy needs to be able to chop pecans when the spirit moves.

And this is part of normal too.

So yesterday, was the last day of the puking drugs.

I bought myself a knife.

If you're already spending more than two hundred dollars on something, it's silly not to pay for overnight shipping, right? 

My new knife arrived today.

1) I just gacked down the last dose of Zidovudine I will ever, please universe, have to swallow.
2) Angry Kitteh sighting. She hissed at me from the railing when I came home from the movie last night. I think she might have been inside the apartment, and my key in the lock scared her out.