I don’t often stump for causes but this one has tugged my heart strings.

Satori lives in NV and has Spinal Muscular Atrophy (type II) She uses a power wheelchair, can’t walk, crawl, etc. She’s a very tough and smart kid, though. I admire her moxie! She blows glass, is quite the talker and will charm your heart.

She recently had steel rods placed in her body because the SMA was causing scoliosis, crushing her lung. Satori did great in the surgery but has now caught pneumonia, which she seems to be beating.

She and her mom have entered a contest with Kroger to win $1k gift card for groceries. They have a bag design which can be be voted one- one vote per computer per day, through 5/21.

You’re probably wondering about the post name. She hates green beans and made her mom promise they wouldn’t buy any green beans, LOL!

To vote, go here. You can read more about Satori here.

I haven’t written much about this, but I think the lurkers and commenters here both know that Bayou’s mom teaches at an Indian reservation in MT.

Momma G used to love it but things have sucked since the new superintendent was hired. If you want to read about that drama, go here.

Anyway, the superintendent is a rather cantankerous, crazy, and an old lesbian. She’s out, and that’s all well and good. She of course knows about Momma G’s daughter. Yesterday, they had a conversation that went like this:

Spies Bayou’s photo on Facebook over Momma G’s shoulder

“Well, that’s your daughter? I would totally date her.”

Momma G, horrified at what she (accurately) termed “the AUDACITY!”, says:

“She’s married and you’re SUPPOSED TO BE, too!”

Ha! I love it. She said we’re married! Oh, how far we’ve come.

She told Bayou on the phone last night that she should’ve added: “…and I should’ve mentioned Lach’s three black belts, too!”

Not to hop up on my soapbox again, but reading this simultaneously broke my heart and brought my blood to a boil.

Clay and his partner of 20 years, Harold, lived in California. Clay and Harold made diligent efforts to protect their legal rights, and had their legal paperwork in place–wills, powers of attorney, and medical directives, all naming each other. Harold was 88 years old and in frail medical condition, but still living at home with Clay, 77, who was in good health.

One evening, Harold fell down the front steps of their home and was taken to the hospital. Based on their medical directives alone, Clay should have been consulted in Harold’s care from the first moment. Tragically, county and health care workers instead refused to allow Clay to see Harold in the hospital. The county then ultimately went one step further by isolating the couple from each other, placing the men in separate nursing homes.

And it gets worse. In the end, Harold died without Clay by his side and Clay was left with nothing- everything from the life he had before was gone.

Anyone with a heart should be disturbed and saddened to read this. It reminds me yet again why marriage equality is so important, and why if none exists in one’s state that you have to be as prepared as possible. Because absent that paperwork and time spent, we could end up like Harold and Clay.

No one should have to suffer such indignity.

This year certainly has been one of many, many lessons. I’m not sure I’ve really grokked it all yet, but the beginnings of awareness are starting to show.

It took me a long time to come to terms with my forced transfer to my current team. And I didn’t handle it very gracefully. I hate admitting that, but I’ve really let my dissatisfaction show and I’m not proud of it. Somehow, I have to find a way to mask my unhappiness- or better yet, not feel that way so intensely that it shows. Redirecting it would go a long way.

Once I accepted that I was not going anywhere for the long haul, I felt better. But I decided that acceptance wasn’t enough, and I decided to take action. Despite being in a grueling four month cycle of 50+ hour weeks, I signed up for a class at the local community college. Yup, back in the classroom for the first time since 1992.

It’s not anything awesome or all that intense. But it’s something. The class is called “How To Start a Small Business”. It runs through mid-May. I’m hoping it not only inspires me to help make Rat City Rags and another, as-yet-undeveloped-biz more of a reality, but arms me with knowledge that I need. So far, the first session has helped me a lot. The class structure is really informal. No real tests or anything, more of a discussion format and lecture. I think it was worth the money. Read more…

I’m having the weirdest night.

Bayou picked up some tickets to see some queer artists. (Bitch, Camille Bloom, and Gina Young for those wondering.)

Three seats over, there is some guy who either just got off the looney bin bus or has done a few too many drugs.

First off, he sat down and began talking loudly. Then he asked our poor, poor waiter if they had prime rib. We’re at the Triple Door- a place that serves pan-asian fare.

WTF, this isn’t Denny’s?!? Grandslams are not the order of the day, pal.

Then this poor, poor girl sits sown and he proceeds to chat her ear off. A bit later the waiter comes over and I hear the weird exclaim, “This is Karen Ann Nicole Carpenter!” (they had been discussing old music). And no, her name was not Karen Carpenter.

And on and on the weirdness spouted. He told her it was his birthday, (he’s 62), he thinks he’s good husband material, and hopes to get married one day. The poor lesbian victim just takes another swig of her Budweiser.

Then, apropos of nothing, he says:

“When I worked at the USPS, I used to kiss the Teddy bears people would mail. Not the mail, the actual Teddy bears. I got in trouble for that, they thought I was kissing the mail.”

I thought, “Is there no way to rescue the Lesbian? Maybe I should order her another Bud.”

Then Bayou looks up and says “Look at the balcony seats!” I turn my gaze up and there are four people dressed like… like… furries, people. FURRIES.

My night continues to get surreal. I don’t know what’s coming next. But I do know another bottle of wine is coming my way. Soon. Before the birthday boy drives me up a wall or furry dances down the aisle.

Update: OMG, the furries were the third act!

Emphasis on the ‘adventure’ part of the title.

Where do I even start with this post. It should be subtitled “Why Caching With One’s Dogs Presents Challenges”.

As you all know, we have Sumi and Loki, the latter of which is still very much puppy. As we walked to the cache site, I fired up the ol’ Flip Mino to record our adventures. We came upon 7-8 Canadian Geese, who were none-too-pleased to see us. Undaunted, we walked -leashed dogs in tow- towards where the cache was supposed to be.

We found it. While I filmed and Bayou attempted to extract the log, I accidentally dropped Sumi’s leash. She began to stroll oh-so-leisurely away from me…. and towards the geese. I handed off the pen and carefully approached her, telling Sumi to wait. As soon as I got in grabbing distance- the Shiba Jet Propulsion System kicked in. Off towards the geese. This was bad enough, except out of nowhere, like a white & brown streaking rocket, comes Loki. He had gotten tangled around the picnic table and Bayou let go to sign the log. Now they were both after the geese. And I was still filming and running.

I could see a ledge coming up quick, but by the time I got to the edge of the pocket park, they were both down on the beach. And then it happened. Sumi came to a full stop and Loki DOVE INTO THE DUWAMISH.

In between laughing and crying, I managed to regain control of them both. Meanwhile, Bayou was laughing and bemoaning the fact that Loki would likely glow in the dark now. The Duwamish, sadly, is a SuperFund site.

And that’s how Loki got his new nickname: Superfund Happy Dog.

But you really came here to see the video, didn’t you? Here it is, in all it’s glory.