Congratulations. Way to suck, California.

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I love it when you smile. I love it when you’re reading and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. I love standing next to you in church and just listening to you sing. I love the dance we do in the kitchen, trying to get out of each other’s way. I love watching you soothe the kids when they’re having a tough time. 

I love that you put up with being married to a dork like me. I love that you can now read a street sign at half a mile in the dark on a rainy night, you bionic freak. I love when you navigate. I love when you suggest we just go out rather than one of us making dinner when neither of us is really up to it at that moment. I love the way we make space for each other in bed. I love the way your hair smells. I love that you still think I care whether or not you shaved. That’s just cute, dangit. 

I love how you dress the house for Christmas and how special that makes me feel. In a crazy way, I love that your shoes are all over the house. I love when you kiss me in the dark, early hours of morning. I love your bare back. I love your giant pink socks and your comfy clothes. I love how the cat always treats you like she hasn’t seen a human in weeks when she sees you. I love how much the kids love you and adore you. I love to daydream back to that time when we were in a one bedroom apartment in college (why is it that we lived right across the street from the bus stop but were always scrambling to catch it?). I love the is-he-doing-what-I-think-he’s-doing look you had on your face when I proposed. I love that you said yes. 

I love our life together. And I love you.

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While most major news outlets today are celebrating the inauguration of the the nations first African-American President, correspondents here at MadeOfGlass News have uncovered remarkable information concerning the new president. It seems, in fact, that Barack Obama’s mother was actually–prepare yourself, because this is startling–WHITE! Yes, I know this is astounding. In fact, further research into his parentage indicates that his father may not have actually been African-American, but just African…

Okay, so I’m being a bit of a snot. But I do have a point. It seems that in our media’s rush–and our nation’s need–to assuage our long bout of white guilt, we’re happily labeling the new President as African-American and leaving it at that.

I think that is too simplistic of a view, and more disconcertingly, ignores an even more important point: he’s biracial.

What does this mean? Why is it important? Well, beyond the idea of a purely black man climbing to the top of the ladder, I think the idea that he is the product of black AND white races symbolizes what we can accomplish together. Sadly, I think this is a topic too scary for media to address, that perhaps a large portion of the population would rather not think about inter-racial relationships. Tack onto it that he’s the son of an immigrant, and you have a whole host of other issues our country still doesn’t want to deal with.

It is as if we’re finally able to talk about something we have been struggling with for a century or more. But we’re not quite ready to talk about more recent issues: bi-racial marriages, or the power of recent immigrants.

I see great hope in today, in the election of this man, in what it implies for the future. But I see so many more troubling things in how we as a society are choosing to frame this day. 

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Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

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zane’s friend thomas came over today.  this is not insignificant.

zane has hung around with grownups a lot in his 9-year old life, especially grandparents, and is socially awkward at times.  todd says he used to not really even have friends.  so far in this year at his new school to have developed a relationship with this boy, to the point where they look and act and sound like eachother, seems deserving of nothing less than an hallelujah.

they are eating dinner together now talking their 3rd grade talk and eating their english muffin mini-pizzas.  i had to really control myself and not go overboard trying to create the Funnest Playdate ever.   i did make dirt for dessert though.

i’m not having the thrice-weekly identity crises i was having when Z first came to us full time, but the bewilderment of i am helping raise a child has not left me altogether, and i doubt that it will.  it’s weird to sometimes have these pangs when i yearn for experiences that have passed that i was never a part of – zane as a toddler, teaching him the alphabet, stuff like that.  it intensifies my own mommy desires, the want to be able to start at the beginning.

at this point i want babies more than i want to be married.  the decision to wed feels less significant than my decision to move to VA from NY to be with todd.   that was pretty much my statement of commitment, you know?

i don’t know where i am going with this.

that was not a metaphor.

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So I have been collecting these for the last week or so, waiting to find time to throw them all up in a batch. And the time seems to be now. I don’t believe any of these are really NSFW, unless you’re squeamish about sex and reading about it in the workplace. (And it should be obvious from my post which ones might not be for you.) But you’ve been warned.

• an article on sugar daddies on mother jones. This is probably the most interesting article, one that almost spurred a fight between Roxy and me. We took opposite sides on the very notion that it was/wasn’t prostitution. And got heated enough that it had to be dropped. And sadly, hasn’t been revisited. Also, alternet posted reader comments about it, though I found them less interesting.
• alternet also has an article about the ‘great texas dildo war of 2008‘. The title might be more humorous than the article, which turns out to be frighteningly stupid. I restate — the article is good, the fact that people are actually trying to outlaw dildos because they want to save unborn babies. Yeah. I don’t get it either.
• And in a similar vein, the Mormons have some thoughts on how to “overcome masturbation.” I did think this was a joke, with lines like: “If you are trying to overcome masturbation, be assured that it is possible (even though, like any habit, it may take some work).” and perhaps more fun:
  

  If you are associated with other persons having this same problem, YOU MUST BREAK OFF THEIR FRIENDSHIP. Never associate with other people having the same weakness. Don’t suppose that two of you will quit together, you never will. You must get away from people of that kind.

  There are plenty more and it’s well worth reading. Also, John, I hate to tell you but we can no longer be friends, because of all our tornado j-o-ing. I’m sorry, but we will never break the habit if we stay friends.

• A quick BBC article on gadgets, bedtimes and couples — outlining how we manage to stay up and create distance in our relationships because of stupid crap like email.
• And finally, in Montana, you can get married without actually being present. The comment I read about this said it would be perfect for Worlds of Warcreft. But why stop there — Second Life, IRC, Russian brides — the possibilities are endless. And maybe, just a little frightening.
• Okay, I lied, 4 more quickies: 1. a history of corsets, 2. a little bit on hermaphrodites, 3. a review of a book on modern American sexuality and finally, Melissa Gira’s writings on Valleywag, detailing some of the sex trade here in Silicon Valley.

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I heard the dumbest thing on the radio today. A woman was worrying about what to buy her fella for Valentine’s Day. Now, let’s go beyond the obvious disappointment that the same culture that turned the Baby Jesus’ birth into an annual economic event has also hyper-commoditized the very emotion of love (“Only counts if you give her diamonds! On sale now!”). No, no. It’s simpler than that.

Now, I know men are often satirized as being simple minded or thinking only with certain portions of anatomy. But in truth, is this worse than associating the value of love with jewelry? I think not. The reality of the situation is this: a woman need not ever buy her man a gift. Ever. What we want doesn’t cost a dime.

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