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About kb

free spirit, lover of red wine, bacon, sushi, the ocean, and adventure. I work in the legal field, do freelance writing, and take care of children.

On Tea

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I have loved tea ever since I got that wonderful farm animal tea set at some point during my childhood. I remember the little cow cups, and the little sheep cups, and the fact that the teapot was a barn. I loved adding sugar and milk. I felt very sophisticated, sipping tea out of a pig. No, seriously. I did. I relished the afternoons where we would pull the set down from its home in the top of cupboard.

 

I am still a tea drinker. To be honest, I prefer it to coffee. I find tea to be a simple pleasure, perfect and incredibly hard to ruin.

Of course, incredibly hard to ruin means that there’s still a shot for doing it – and the combination of loose leaf tea with chunks of bark in it and this plastic tea-strainer have managed to do exactly that.

The Barry family Christmas gift exchange this year offered us a variety of choices. There were numbers drawn, and gifts chosen at random from a pile in the center. You could steal someone else’s gift or take a wrapped one from the pile. I ended up with tea and a tea strainer. I was so excited! Tea! Strainer – for all of the tea that I’ve consumed during my life, I’m surprised that I’ve never taken the plunge into loose-leaf tea. (To be honest, they make teabags for a reason…)

So I brought it to work the other day and began attempting to make tea. I scooped the tea leaves (and chunks of bark and other bits of forest) into the blue plastic spoon-ish contraption meant to strain my tea. Then I tried to slide the screen enclosure around the scooped tea leaves (and chunks of bark and other bits of forest). This led to piles of tea leaves (and chunks of bark and other bits of forest) all over my desk. It also led to a tea strainer that had more tea outside than in. So I plunged the strainer into my mug. Ugh. All of the tea that had somehow become attached to the exterior of the strainer was now floating in my water. I was imagining smelting gold (too much Gold Rush, can you tell?) and having to skim the bits of rock off the top.

The other unfortunate part was the pile of tea that made it look like I was rolling blunts at my desk. Luckily, no one walked in during the fiasco that was trying to steep tea sans teabag.

In conclusion, I will be trying this again, although I think I’ll do it in the kitchen next time rather than at my desk. I’m still pulling tea out of my papers.

On Being Really Happy (and liking it)

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Valentine's Day Dinner

(Mom wanted a picture)

How it started:

I was joking around with a friend on Facebook about all of the spam that we get from Twitter (It’s stuff like, “I’m 21 and single, want to chat?” – Gross and very annoying), and I told him that if I really wanted to find that kind of a date/casual encounter, I’d get on Craigslist. And then I realized that it’s really because of Craigslist that I know Kevin.

Last summer, one of my friends started looking for a new place to live. She found some roommates on Craigslist and after a brief interview process, was selected to be a member of their household. I started hanging around at their house more and more, and one day, one of the roommates told me that I should meet his friend Kevin since he thought we’d be a great match (Kevin’s sarcasm and my cynicism plus lack of filter were apparently enough to go on). I was like, “Uh, no thanks” (mostly because set ups are so awkward and never work).

Conveniently, we were both at the Halloween party that they threw. His first memory of me is me looking like this (keep in mind that I had the flu):

Halloween

Kevin later admitted that when he first saw me, he was convinced that they’d hired a caterer for the party, so I’m glad that I have this personality thing to fall back on when my sex appeal fails me.

Present-tense

It’s been almost four months now, which makes no sense. It’s like it either just started, or has been going on forever. Looking back, everything just sort of aligned at the right times. Of course I’m terrified, but I’m also thrilled. Seriously thrilled. I sincerely hope that I make him as happy as he makes me. He’s smart and willing to engage me (and by engage, I mean listening to me rant about whatever it is that I’m in the mood to rant about that day) in discussions. He’s sweet. He loves Carlos (and more importantly, Carlos loves him). He’s spontaneous. He likes my family. He respects me. He’s patient when I’m falling down mountains. He trusts me enough to let me drive. We’re total opposites who just happen to have a lot more in common than I thought.

Rather than worry (which I’m so prone to doing), I have decided to just embrace this experience. Like jumping feet-first off the Bloukrans Bridge.

Bloukrans Bridge

(Never again)

It’s better than bungee jumping – less panic, less leg-shaking, less terror. It’s an adventure. It’s the best kind of adventure – the kind where you fall asleep at night knowing that it’s going to start all over again the next day.

Thank you, Craiglist. You can be super sketchy, but you’re alright with me.

On Valentine’s Day

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Personally, I’m not the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. It’s stupid and commercial.  But, then again, it provides us with the opportunity to really examine our own lives and the love that’s in them. And that, dear reader, is something that we should all be immensely grateful for. Love is the best part of this journey.

Lamely, I included the same message in my cards to my mom and grandmother. I don’t even know that I was quite able to express the sentiment, and am hoping that when they read this entry, they’ll understand that “you’re such a wonderful example of love in this world” means that I’m in awe of their ability to leave such a positive imprint wherever they go. Both my mom and my grandma are serious badasses. Sorry for the language, but I’m actually not sorry at all. These are two of the strongest, most capable, generous, hilarious women that you’ll ever meet. They’re unconventional, they’re sweet, they’re kind, caring, humble, understanding, and again, funny. I’m lucky to come from such people.

Anyway. In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m going to make you suffer through me recounting my favorite instances of love (romantic love, just for today):

1. Aunt Jan and Uncle Mike. Their love is the kind of love that Nicholas Sparks writes sappy tear-jerkers about. They met on a blind date and were engaged shortly thereafter. I once asked Uncle Mike about it and he responded, “Sometimes you just know.” Every time I think about that, I smile. It’s incredible. And I bet they’re going to make adorable old people (some day very far in the future).

2. Grandma Mary and I used to go to Southglenn Mall (when it was still a mall) for our shopping trips. We were there having an Orange Julius, and I watched a very elderly (hey, in all fairness I was like ten years old, so anything above sixty was very elderly to me at that point) couple order a milkshake and then share it. With two straws. It’s funny to me that the image of them with their milkshake and two straws in a suburban mall is the image that I think of when I think of romance, but to be honest, it was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

3. I was at the store buying my Valentine’s Day cards (me and half of Denver, apparently), and the man in front of me at the checkout line was buying a vase full of roses and all the extras. The cashier asked him how long they’d been married and he paused and then said “63  years.” The cashier proceeded to chat with him about it and he said, “She’s a very special lady.” I love that after 63 years of marriage, they’re still in love. And I hope that they have many more years together.

Love isn’t perfect. It’s not all storybook endings and romance novel covers, although I do wish it was, just a little – those dresses!  You’d do well to read NPRs “Dark History of Valentine’s Day”. But first, this, also from NPR. It’s a story of romance between a nun and a brother. It made me cry (but then again, what doesn’t?). You’ll love it.

from NPR: 

A Brother And Sister Get Married (And Later, Their Son Tweets It)

by Clare O’Neill

As comedian John Fugelsang recalls, all in life was dandy until one fateful day, at age 6, he noticed an odd motif in some photos: “In every family picture … my mother was wearing a habit.”

Last August, he tweeted his parents’ unusual love story — with photos — on the one-year anniversary of his father’s death. In a series of blurbs 140 characters or less, he tells it better than I ever could: (click on this link and go view the slideshow – I cried while going through it)

Credit: Courtesy of John Fugelsang

Fugelsang, who has hosted America’s Funniest Home Videos and consulted for Rosie O’Donnell, among other things, explained more in an interview.

Not only had his mother, Peggy, joined a convent after an abusive childhood, taking the name Sister Damien. But his father, Jack, had become a Franciscan monk after high school. The two met in Brooklyn when Jack — or Brother Boniface — had become ill with tuberculosis.

“From all accounts I heard, he fell madly, desperately, insanely in love with this Southern nurse in a nun’s habit that he knew he could never have, and had sworn to God he would never want to have,” Fugelsang says.

Brother Boniface did the only thing he could do. He held a secret torch for Sister Damien for some 10 years. During that time, he expressed his love through platonic letters. She had been sent to Malawi to care for people with leprosy. And every week, he would write. He kept her — and all of the sisters — apprised of the latest: of L.B.J. and M.L.K. and everything else U.S.A.

Then, her father died. When she returned home to take care of her family, Brother Boniface found out and intercepted her — showing up at the hospital where she was working and professing his love. “She was appalled,” says Fugelsang.

But eventually, Boniface won her over. They broke their religious vows and made new ones — to each other. As Fugelsang says, it was their first love and second marriage, the first being a marriage to God. They dropped their names and became Jack and Peggy again. They had kids and lived happily married for decades, from what Fugelsang recalls.

“I can honestly say that my father’s love only grew as he got older and as they aged,” says Fugelsang. “The romance didn’t slow down for him at all. He was someone who was completely unable to separate his devotion to God from his devotion to his wife.”

Well into his 60s, Jack’s heart thumped at full force — emotionally and spiritually. But then, two heart attacks had doctors shaking their heads, saying there was nothing they could do.

“So he just began telling everyone that he wasn’t going to die,” says Fugelsang, “that he was going to live on because he was too in love. And he held on longer than any of the doctors thought he could.”

A risky stem-cell treatment in Thailand afforded him a few more years.

“It was amazing seeing how even in the last days of his life, the love just got deeper and deeper. I have photos of him in his hospital bed looking at her with a kind of naked, calm love that I’ve seldom seen on a man’s face.”

Jack died in August 2010.

“You know, we live in a culture where men are not really celebrated for love,” says Fugelsang. “And so for me, the most defining personal dynamic in my life has been watching a man madly in love with his wife.”

“And now I’m going to be a dad for the first time,” he continues. “[And] the fact of the matter is, my kid gets to grow up in this beautiful, complicated world because many years ago, some guy in Brooklyn chose love.”

Last year, Fugelsang retold the story in tweets. Today, he’s telling the unabridged version in a solo performance, Guilt: A Love Story, currently touring the country.

On the Weekend

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This weekend was a mid-winter retreat up to Breckenridge. We went up with another couple; it was the longest double date that I’ve ever been on, and it was wonderful. We stayed in a trailer that we found online. I was a little nervous since I’ve never had any real trailer experience, but I have to say that it was absolutely beautiful. It had just been updated – new everything. So clean and bright and welcoming. We had our own rooms – definitely an upgrade from the New Year’s trip when Kevin and I slept in a second story office area right off the stairs. It was warm and cozy and the design was really well thought out. You could tell the owner (who is also a designer) put thought into each and every decision she made. The space was lovely.

I did my first double-black run on Saturday!  Sort of. Mostly, I just fell down the mountain, but luckily for me, the top part was nice and fluffy, so falling didn’t hurt at all. I think that I was too hesitant to really just jump into it – I might have had more success that way. The black run after that was much harder for me, partially due to my frustration with the terrain. It was bumpy and rough; about halfway through, I fell really hard and pulled my shoulder in a direction that shoulders shouldn’t go. As I sat there trying to gain my composure (read: didn’t want anyone to see that I was starting to cry), I had a moment of realization. I had to keep going to get back to a groomed run. There was no other way. I wasn’t about to take off my board and walk it, so I mustered up the courage to just deal with it. I went as slowly as I wanted and I focused on keeping my balance. By the time I saw the groomed trail looming ahead of me, I was filled with excitement. I felt good. I had just gotten off the highest lift in North America and made it down. And the top part was awesome – I’d happily do that again!

By Sunday, I was much more comfortable. I’m now nearly able to keep up with everyone – Kevin still waits for me at certain points to make sure that I’m alive, which is really sweet of him since I know that he’d much rather be flying down the mountain. There’s one run that’s labelled as black off of Peak 7, which is mostly just blues (all of which I can do with no problem!) – the top part of it is steep and through trees, but it flattens out as you get to the bottom of it. I found myself complaining to Kevin that it would be so much better if it didn’t flatten out. This is a sentiment that I’m surprised I’m expressing. I’m excited that I’m willing to try harder things, I’m excited that I’m up for trying runs that I normally would be hesitant to even attempt, I’m excited that I’m getting more and more confident. I look back even a few weeks and realize how far I’ve come, and it’s so satisfying. I’m going to be good at this in no time. Considering I’ve only been doing this for a season (and only been up about 11 times), I’m amazed by my progress. Yeah, I definitely still cop out and ride the back edge of my board down the steeper hills, and I still get a little bit more panicky on the more crowded runs, but I’m definitely getting there. Baby steps.

I’m grateful to have such patient friends – no one pushes me to do things that I’m uncomfortable doing (the one exception here is Kevin, who always says, “this is the easiest way down!” but even then, he knows that I have my limits and never tries to force anything). Everyone is wonderful about waiting for me at the bottom of the run (I’m about a minute or so behind these days, hoping that soon it’ll be much quicker). It’s been such a wonderful experience and I’m grateful for the opportunities.

We drove down last night in the snow – it was a sketchy drive and I’m grateful that Kevin is so confident and cautious when he needs to be. It was nice to see Carlos, who definitely missed us. Even though I’m super sore today, it was absolutely worth it.

On Embracing “Cat Lady” (but not actually embracing it at all)

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Two years ago today, I went to the animal shelter in Chicago with my friend Becky just to take a look at the animals.

Two hours later, I walked out with a very grumpy pit bull-panther mix (I believe we should shorten that to  “pitther” or “panbull” or “pittpan” – all ring equally of faux-pretension and violence, which suits him perfectly).  At that time, he was named York, but he would later spend nearly half a year being called simply Cat (put your best Borat accent on it and you’ve got it halfway right). And now he is Carlos, AKA Mr. Beast. That cat adoption was simultaneously the stupidest decision I’ve ever made and also the best. I would do it again in a heartbeat.

My two favorite things about Carlos (besides his eyeballs) are his half ear and his snaggletooth. Adorable!

But honestly, I have a cat with as much personality as me, and that’s not something you find every single day. We’re a good match and I hope that the life he lives now is so much better than the life he had before. They told me he’d never survive a major surgery (at the time, it was a selling point) but he’s gone through two and come out no worse for the wear. He’s tough as nails. He’s fiercely protective and insanely ballsy – I wish I had a video of him attacking Ely’s golden retriever, Archie. (Archie was okay in the end, just a little scared.) He’s also a wonderful snuggler, a serious investigator, a lover of shower curtains and clean sheets, and usually very hungry.

My favorite stories are the butter story, the glass of water, and the night before I moved away from Chicago.

Quickly, because I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s nearly impossible for anyone who doesn’t own that particular cat to love it and therefore none of you care (I don’t like any of my friends’ cats; I don’t like any cats I see on the street; I just like Carlos):

The night before I left Chicago, we had people over. At the end of the night, I opened the back door that led to our back  porch and down the back stairs and there was Carlos, sitting patiently outside the door. I have no idea how he got out. I have no idea why he didn’t run. But I am eternally grateful for the fact that I got to bring him back to Denver with me the next day. Let me tell you, cats love spending 18 hours in a car. Just love it.

John always used to have a water glass with him. When he’d come visit, he’d leave his glass on my desk. Carlos loves to explore – there’s nothing you can bring into a house that he doesn’t want to investigate. So he had his nose in the water glass and John yelled at him to get away. Carlos looked directly at John, and then swirled his paw around in the water, shook the paw off, and walked away. It was brilliant.

And there you go.

I’m going to be stuck with this small monster for a very long time, and I’m okay with that. He’s the best.

On Taste

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Why We Like What We Like

Categories: Science and Culture

by ALVA NOË

Can we really taste the difference, or is it all just down to context?

EnlargeAFP/AFP/Getty ImagesCan we really taste the difference, or is it all just down to context?

Can you tell the difference between gourmet liver paté and dog food?

I mean, can you tell the difference by taste?

Many of you are probably pretty sure that you could, and also that you could tell the difference between a $100 bottle of a splendid vintage and some $5 schlock, right? But can you really? In a blind taste test?

Scientists have looked into these questions and the findings are, well, they’re disgusting. It turns out most people won’t notice the difference between paté and dog food, so long as the latter is suitably presented with the right sort of garnish. And as for our ability to discriminate wine, even experts may confuse a white wine with a red when it is served at room temperature in a dark glass. And we’ll enjoy soggy old potato chips, it turns out, if our chewing is accompanied (over head phones) by the satisfying sound of crunching.

What are we to make of this?

I think there is a temptation, when we learn of these studies, to feel that we have been somehow unmasked, exposed, revealed to be, well, inauthentic in our pleasures. After all, if we can’t really taste the difference between cheap beer mixed with vinegar and an expensive micro-brew, then surely this means that our preference for the finer stuff is, well, a pretension. Maybe the evolutionary psychologists are right and our preferences are really complicated strategies to display wealth and win sexual partners.

And of course we’re no better off when it comes to sex. We choose our sexual partners based in large measure on features that have nothing to do with the intrinsic “taste” of the sex acts themselves. If this were not the case, why would we care to have sex only with people of a given gender, or age, or appearance? Even blindmen care about how women they meet look. Why? — Could you actually tell whether it is your wife’s hand that you are holding, and not that of a perfect stranger, in a blind taste test, as it were? And what would it mean to you if you could not?

It’s hard to avoid the conclusion that we are frauds and fakes.

But this would be exactly the wrong conclusion to draw, and it turns, I believe, on a widely accepted but misguided conception not just of pleasure, but of perception itself. It turns on the idea that perceptual qualities are qualitative atoms whose occurrence is fixed by the intrinsic quality of our internal, presumably physical (neural) states. Taste, we suppose, is in the mouth. So if we can’t discriminate taste just on the basis of what is happening in our taste buds, then, well, we are making the difference up.

But this is crazy. Consider a different sort of case. The German word “Nein” and the English word “nine” sound exactly alike; the very same acoustic event can instantiate both words. And yet we experience them differently, at least if we know the relevant languages. Now this is a real difference, and it is one we genuinely perceive, but it is one that corresponds not to a qualitative atom, but to a qualitative arc. We are sensitive, in this case, to a context, to a flow, to a conversation.

And so with other perceptual qualities. Context matters, and so do our attitudes and expectations. My dad used to say that Chinese food tastes better with chop sticks. And he was right. Not because he was snob, or deluded, but because he appreciated that enjoying the food is wrapped up with a way of thinking about it, handling it, chewing it.

We can discriminate dog food and paté, red wine and white, holding hands with someone we love and holding hands with a stranger. But what we are discriminating, when we do this, is not neural events in the mouth or hand, but what we are doing. And when the wine expert, or the lover, describes what matters in the flavor, or the caress, he or she is not identifying marks or features of the intrinsic qualities in the nervous system that only the expert of the lover can discern; taste is not a kind of measurement. Rather, the expert is calling attention to features of the flavor and the action that are precisely there for us to think about and pay attention to. If we choose to. And of course we don’t have to choose to. People (individuals, but also classes and cultures) differ in what they choose to care about.

The cases I mention here are discussed by Paul Bloom, a psychologist at Yale, in his insightful and provocative book How Pleasure Works: The New Science of Why We Like What We Like. I like this book very much, and recommend it, and will return to puzzles it raises in the coming weeks.

source: NPR

On Death, Anonymously

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When I got to work today, my parking spot was blocked off by crime scene tape. There were police cars scattered all over the parking lot. I found out that an unfortunate tragedy occurred this morning. Oddly disconcerted by what happened, I’m finding myself distracted and a bit numb today. But my Catholic roots are begging that I pray, and so with a lit candle on my desk, I turn to the strange comforts of childhood.

 

Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

On Virginia and Adoption

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So Virginia wants to let state-funded (but private) adoption agencies discriminate based on the belief system of the agency? Doesn’t the government protect against that sort of discrimination?

Obviously, adoption is important. It so often gets overlooked. About a third of the kids currently sitting in Virginia foster care hope to eventually be adopted. Granted, those adoptions aren’t going to be arranged through these private agencies, but we’re talking about allocation of government funds. I say take funding away from any organization that wants to practice discrimination (in violation of federal law) and put that funding back into the badly broken foster system so that those kids can have a chance at a family.

You can’t guarantee that a set of potential parents that fits the “ideal” picture of a family is going to end up as an”ideal” set of parents. I mean, my family – heterosexual, white, Catholics – ended up divorced and really grumpy. What was once a rosy image of the perfect family was eventually shattered – just like half of the other rosy pictures of hetero families in the US. But G-d forbid we let the gays adopt! They’ll turn this country into a hub of immorality and sin! It’s like one commenter wrote sarcastically: “But what if the kids catch the gay?” What if, indeed.

Virnia adding ‘conscience clause’ to adoption laws

By ,

RICHMOND — Virginia will likely become the second state in the nation — after North Dakota — to allow private adoption agencies to turn away parents based on sexual orientation or religious and moral beliefs.

The General Assembly is considering a measure that would add a “conscience clause’’ to Virginia law that would allow state-funded, faith-based agencies to choose which parents are suitable for adoption based on the agencies’ beliefs.

Daniel Gri and James Abbott, who adopted two sons in California, say that through the proposed guidelines their adopted home of Virginia is further hampering gay people from adopting.

“It makes it seem like it’s not about sexual orientation,” said Gri, who lives in Oakton. “That’s a technique anti-gay organizations use.’’

But supporters of the legislation say it would protect religious freedom by ­allowing birth parents to choose an agency — and as a result, adoptive parents — who adhere to their religious beliefs.

“This measure will chisel into law the principle that people of faith can adhere to their convictions without fear of reprisal from those who would discriminate against their religious beliefs regarding how we should raise our children,” said House Deputy Majority Leader C. Todd Gilbert(R-Shenandoah).

The legislation’s fate became clear after Republicans took control of the state Senate and gained an even heftier majority in the House. The House voted overwhelmingly to pass the measure last week, largely along party lines, while the Senate is expected to vote this week.

Gov. Robert F. McDonnell (R) is expected to sign the legislation. He has repeatedly said that faith-based organizations should be able to make their own policies.

Virginia has 77 private agencies, 16 of them faith-based. They placed 557 of the state’s 2,503 adoptions last year, according to state figures. In total, the agencies and 120 local social services departments received $144 million in state and federal funds for child placement last year.

Who can adopt, and who can’t

The bill does not change who can adopt. State law does not allow unmarried couples — homosexual or heterosexual — to adopt. But it is possible for single people, including gays, to adopt.

For gay-rights group Equality Virginia, the ACLU and others, the legislation merely perpetuates discrimination.

“Let’s just speak the truth and tell it like it is,’’ Del. David L. Englin (D-Alexandria) said. “This legislation is about ensuring that foster placement agencies that do not want to place children . . . with same-sex couples are able to do that.’’

Democrats, outgunned in the newly Republican-controlled legislature, have unsuccessfully tried to amend the legislation and pass their own bill, which would have banned discrimination by agencies that receive state funds. Nine states prohibit discrimination in adoption.

“Any bill that sanctions discrimination is unfortunate and misguided,’’ said Sen. A. Donald McEachin (D-Henrico), who attempted to amend the bill last week.

The bill would prohibit the state from rejecting or revoking agencies’ licenses because they turn away prospective parents. Currently, about 4,407 children are in foster care in Virginia. About 1,300 of them have a goal of adoption.

Supporters of the measure say it merely puts into law a standing practice that has been in place in Virginia for decades.

“A majority of Virginians recognize that these agencies are critical to providing the best possible outcomes for children,’’ said Victoria Cobb, president of the Family Foundation. “This legislation . . . allows these important agencies to continue doing the vital work they’ve been doing for decades.’’

But opponents say the bill goes far beyond just faith-based agencies to all private agencies, far beyond just adoption to foster care and far beyond religious reasons to moral reasons.

“This is establishing a whole lot of new precedent that we have not had before or seen before,’’ said Claire Guthrie Gastanaga, general counsel to Equality Virginia and a former chief deputy attorney general.

The bill codifies a decision by the State Board of Social Services last year to allow faith-based organizations to reject prospective parents based on gender, age, religion, disability, sexual orientation and family status. The federal government protects against discrimination based on race, color or national origin.

The proposed regulations, part of a massive overhaul of adoption rules, are to take effect May 1.

‘Focus’ on the child

“Our focus is really on the best placement of the child,’’ Virginia Social Services Commissioner Martin Brown said.

About 2,279 same-sex couples are raising about 4,558 children in Virginia, according to the Family Equality Council, a gay-rights organization. Most were adopted in Virginia, allowing only one parent to have custody.

Fifty-five percent of Virginians say that gay couples should be able to legally adopt children, according to a Washington Post poll released last year.

Fifty-nine percent of Virginians say that state-run agencies should not ban prospective parents based on sexual orientation, while 35 percent say they should, according to aQuinnipiac University poll, also released last year. But that same poll indicates that Virginians are split on whether church agencies should be able to do that — 48 percent to 45 percent.

“Virginians expect any public agency or agency licensed by Virginia to treat all the state’s citizens fairly and justly and serve their best interests,’’ the Family Equality Council said in a statement.

But Del. Robert G. Marshall (R-Prince William), who does not think single or gay people should be allowed to adopt, said the law is needed so that faith-based organizations do not close down, as they have in other states, including Massachusetts.

“These agencies should be able to practice the ethical views of their organizations,’’ said Marshall, who adopted three children with his wife through Catholic Charities.

Gri and Abbott, legally married in California, adopted their children — Caleb, 14, and Alfred, 11, — through government foster care, not a private agency. They grew up with religion and are active in a church in the District.

But while they both say they are more than likely to vote for conservative candidates because of their pro-business, low-regulation approach, they believe legislators may be wrong on this issue.

“I think definitely this law is not in the best interest of the children,’’ Gri said.

source: The Washington Post

On Valentine’s Day

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I’m starting to panic.
What am I going to do for Kevin for Valentine’s Day?
I have zero good ideas.

I realize that Valentine’s Day is a whole bunch of crap, but we’re at a really good place right now and I’m excited. Things are bright; life is beautiful; and I want a way to let him know that I appreciate him. I’m also hesitant because I’m worried that whatever I do will be super lame.

 

 

On thinking about love, a little

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(Denver in snow)

The capacity for emotion is one of the most beautiful parts of being human, but it’s also one of the absolute worst. Relationships are a funny thing. It’s not like you can compartmentalize your life so that something ends neatly, with all the loose ends tied up. There is really no such thing as a clean break. What your heart feels isn’t 100% or nothing. There is a lot of love that happens when you’re busy loving something else.

It is my firm belief that you never fall out of love with anybody. You never stop loving someone that you once loved, not entirely. Those feelings can shift and grow, shift and change, shift and decrease, but the impact of that love leaves deep grooves on your soul. If you’re loving properly, then you’re loving with your full self. Just because that relationship, that affair, that whatever may have ended doesn’t mean that your heart understands that. It doesn’t think in finite terms. It thinks in moods, in experiences, in memories.

Love is the best part of being human. For me, it’s the ultimate in life experiences. It will change you. It will shape your paths, your mindsets, your beliefs. And at the end of the day, it will either leave you sated or leave an indescribably empty hole.  You keep feeling it until you don’t feel it anymore.

It’s also curious to me how timing plays such a large role in all of this human-emotion-loving that’s going on. Sometimes, things align. And sometimes they don’t. I often wonder how many great relationships never came to fruition because of bad timing. Of course, you can sit here and say, “If it was meant to be…” but that’s not always true. There is no one right person for you, and if you’re lucky enough to find someone who matches that description, you’ve been handed an incredible gift. The rest of us have to muddle around until we figure something out.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what constitutes a good match lately. I’ve been analyzing how my own relationship fills my needs. I remember speaking to someone once who talked about how two out of three (emotional support, intelligence, looks) needed to be met in order for someone to have a functional relationship. I think that I have that triangle but then another laid on top of it.

(This is where i tried to draw a diagram and failed sort of miserably….)

So here’s how it goes:  You need two out of three of Intelligence, Emotional Intelligence, Physical Attraction. And for me, you also need probably two out of three of Energy Level (Willingness to Adventure), Motivation (this usually means having a job), and a weird combination of Tolerance, Morality and Are You a Good Person? to round it out. So that’s sort of difficult to find because I’m not a two-dimensional human being. I need you to be smart enough to call me on my bullshit, caring enough to love me even when I’m being weird, and semi-good looking. More than that though, I need you to love something – that’s your motivation: I need you to have a strong work ethic, a sense of responsibility, pride in what you do, etc.; I need you to be willing to try new things and travel new places; and I need you to be a generally wonderful person – open to new cultures, new people, kind-hearted, giving, etc.

This is the challenge set before every single person who desires to someday have a mate: Find someone who matches you on your requirements. I was thinking about all of that this weekend, because I was doing some serious analyzing (and embracing some serious happy).

(Denver Art Museum: free every 1st Saturday. Worth it!)

I spent the entire weekend with Kevin. We worked from home quite happily on Friday. There were laptops and papers and cords all over the living room and the two of us were on the couch watching the news. It was perfect, except for Carlos walking all over Kevin’s keyboard a couple of times. We tried new restaurants (eggs benedict twice for me, and fried pickles), we went to a bakery that we’ve never been to (delicious lavender-infused, lemon, red velvet, and coconut cupcakes…I’m hooked), we ran errands, we went to the Art Museum (briefly), we hung out with my family for the Super Bowl, we argued about politics (finally!), and we had plenty of down time. It was wonderful. It made me feel incredibly positive about our relationship – which apparently has been going on for quite awhile. It still feels new sometimes. It’s comfortable. It’s secure. It’s real. And I can dig that. I have someone who adores me, respects me, and genuinely enjoys spending time with me. These are all good things. I am a very lucky girl.