scene twelve

Image courtesy of filmgecko.com

Tagged by Dora with the dreaded book meme, I decided to give the game a slight Hollywood twist. The challenge:

"Here's the game. Open the book nearest your computer (and be honest not something artsy-fartsy so you can impress everyone) turn to page 56 and post the 5th sentence, plus a bit before and after for context."

I'm going for the closest reading material, which happens to be the script to an upcoming film that my friend Ken is producing. It's called Manure, and its about competing Fertilizer salesmen in Kansas in the early 60's. So it's a romance. Anyway, its where Tea Leoni hooked up with Billy Bob Thornton, so maybe it's porn. Whatever.

Rosemary:

"Just one moment while I change into something more comfortable".

The Miracle workers smile and look at one another. She runs past a room in the back. Four other miracle workers are gagged and tied up.

Rosemary climbs out the rear bedroom window and runs.

when fetishes collide

Some sunday fun. My harmless crush on Anderson Cooper continues to roll along. Yes, I still have a thing for the king of the puppies, the blue eyed god in a polo shirt. In this 60 Minutes clip below, he interviews Olympic studmuffin Michael Phelps and challenges him to a one lap race. Although you don't get to see Michael's tattoos (and they are there), we do get Coop in board shorts. Alas, no speedo, but the segment is still way fun.

My high school fantasies are returning to me now.....


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thankful

I had four different invitations for Thanksgiving. Each one was a sincere extension of hospitality from a devoted and well meaning friend, and each involved family and good fellowship. And I was very grateful for each, it made me feel valued and cared for. In the end, I declined all four and stayed home. Thursday was the first anniversary of her passing, and I spent the day with her. I was in the right place.

No weeping, no wailing, just a quiet day of reflection. I'm very thankful for the time I had with her, and for all of the crazy adventures we had. Yes, she was a handful at times, but she loved me without limits and constantly reminded me how proud she was of me. Every child should be so fortunate.

I'm thankful for the Mom I was given.

yahrtzeit

One year today. How the time has flown, already an anniversary. Not a particulrly easy one either, considering how much she loved the holiday season. I needed to do something for her. I was reading a friend's blog when I stumbled upon the Jewish tradition of Yahrtzeit, which literally means "one year later". They comemmorate the passing of a loved one by rituals that include setting up a photo shrine with a candle, and saying a special prayer.

I was touched by the idea. So I took the pictures of her that I shared with you last week, and placed them on the Magnavox. Next to those I set up the ceramic Christmas tree that she made in the late 60's in ceramics class. I added a candle and here it is- my own version of Yahrtzeit.

I feel better having it here.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Hold your loved ones close to your heart.

conscientious objector

Although I have a thousand stories about her. I don't have all that many that specifically pertain to thanksgiving. A couple predictable ones- the time the oven door failed and launched the turkey across the kitchen floor while it was being basted comes to mind. The mind hearkens back to the jello dish that got nicknamed "aluminum salad" for reasons that indicate a possibility of inadvertent metallic contamination. But today's tale is one in which I have more of an active role than was usual.

It was Thanksgiving Day, 1964, and as had been customary, after our own holiday dinner we would head over to my grandparents for leftovers and dessert. My Mother, on this particular year, was exhausted from preparing her own feast and did not feel like attending. She explained her reasons to my father in front of cute little toddler me, but made no admonition that these were not to be shared.

Here I digress. At my grandparent's gathering, it was customary for the daughters to help serve and the daughters-in-law to clean up. Mom referred to it as the in-laws and the outlaws, and her adherence to the policy was tepid at best.

My father, my brother, and I crunched through the snowy driveway up the stairs and into the kitchen of the old farmhouse. The cast iron stove was blazing and the room was toasty warm as we unbuckled our galoshes on the red and yellow linoleum floor and removed our heavy winter coats. Grandmother greeted us with a big smile. "Where's your Mother?", she asked. "She stayed home", I blurted out. She said she didn't want to do the dishes".

It's a good thing I was so cute.

domestic partner

A very thought provoking essay from Tom Ackerman. I like the way this guy thinks:

-----

I no longer recognize marriage. It’s a new thing I’m trying.

Turns out it’s fun.

Yesterday I called a woman’s spouse her boyfriend.


She says, correcting me, “He’s my husband,”
“Oh,” I say, “I no longer recognize marriage.”

The impact is obvious. I tried it on a man who has been in a relationship for years,


“How’s your longtime companion, Jill?”
“She’s my wife!”
“Yeah, well, my beliefs don’t recognize marriage.”

Fun. And instant, eyebrow-raising recognition. Suddenly the majority gets to feel what the minority feels. In a moment they feel what it’s like to have their relationship downgraded, and to have a much taken-for-granted right called into question because of another’s beliefs.

Just replace the words husband, wife, spouse, or fiancé with boyfriend, girlfriend, special friend, or longtime companion. There is a reason we needed stronger words for more serious relationships. We know it; now they can see it.

A marriage is a lot of things. Culturally, it’s a declaration to the community that two people are now a unit, and that unity should be respected. Legally, it’s a set of rights and responsibilities. And spiritually, it’s whatever your beliefs think it is.

That’s what’s so great about America. As a Constitutionally secular nation, or at least in reality a vaguely pluralistic nation, we can all have our own spiritual take on what marriage is. What’s troublesome is when one group’s spiritual beliefs deny the cultural and legal rights of another.

But, back to the point. They say their beliefs don’t recognize my marriage, I say my beliefs don’t recognize theirs. Simple. It may seem petty, and obviously the legal part of the cultural/legal/spiritual trilogy is flip-floppy, but it may be the cultural part that really matters.

People get married to be recognized as a permanent couple. To be acknowledged by friends, family, and strangers as being off the market, in a relationship, totally hooked up, yikes… it’s impossible to say without saying ‘married.’ We wear rings to declare this!

So, we can take this away. We can refuse to recognize marriage in the cultural sense. It is totally within our rights, as Americans, to follow our beliefs and recognize or not recognize what we like.

I guess this is a call out to all Americans with beliefs similar to mine.

If you believe that all people should have equal rights, and if you believe that marriage is one of the greatest destinations of a relationship, then perhaps you believe that nobody should have marriage until everybody does.

That’s what I believe.
-----

Read the original here. Cartoon by Mar Bennett.

sunday drive: more downtown LA

No sooner did I have last week's sunday drive photos posted when I received another email from Mitchell, with even more photos of the Downtown Los Angeles "No on 8" protest. I love these images, they show the divesity of the City of Angels. From the architecture, which includes City Hall, the Los Angeles Mall, the Federal Courts, Historic Olvera St, the Pico House and Chinatown, to the activists. Pay particular attention to the No on 8 sign in Chinese. This is the city, Los Angeles Calfornia.