In 332 days, Lisa and I will be married…again.

Why you ask? Well, let me see if I can try to make some sense here (which for me can sometimes be a difficult undertaking).

On July 5, 2001 we traveled to Vermont and entered into a Civil Union, which at the time was the closest we could get to being married. Allstate insurance company recognized the Civil Union as an “insurable interest” where our automobile policies were concerned but other than that, the Civil Union gave us no legal relationship to each other.

Following the lead of Mayor Gavin Newsom out in San Francisco, New Paltz (NY) mayor Jason West solemnized a dozen or so same-sex marriages, believing he was upholding the oath of his office by treating everyone equally. Two weeks later, on March 13 (2004) Lisa and I were married by a Unitarian Universalist minister. Two days after that, the UU ministers that performed those marriages were charged for illegally solemnizing those marriages. As a side note, some time later after the charges were dismissed, an anti-gay “Christian” group tried to get those marriages legally overturned but no court has yet done that. That marriage granted us no legal relationship either, since it was not recognized by the state, nor was the paperwork accepted for filing.

In July of 2004 Lisa and I traveled to Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada and, on July 5 (the 3rd anniversary of our Vermont Civil Union) we were legally married in Canada. While that marriage bestowed a specific legal relationship between the two of us, we had to literally “check the marriage at the border” when we re-entered the US.

After a three year court battle, we won same-sex marriage recognition for all legally married couples in New York State. This victory was decided based on the concept of “comity,” which in its simplest form is the recognition of valid marriages from one country by another. This court decision granted not only legal recognition of our relationship, but more than 1200 rights in New York State as well.

Now that same-sex marriage is up and running in New York, Lisa and I want to pursue a legal marriage right here in New York because, with the way things are going in this country with the Patriot Act, we fear that it could be a matter of time before the principle of “comity” becomes negated. In order to secure our marriage and all it’s rights and responsibilities, we feel it prudent to enter into marriage, legally, right here at home.

So, save the date: July 5, 2012 (yes, the 11 year anniversary of our Civil Union and the 8 year anniversary of our Canadian marriage). More information will be coming out but, for now, keep checking back here for updates and links to other places where you can get information on what we’re doing.

I was taking a shower yesterday morning when Lisa came into the bathroom and told me she’d heard on the news that Navy Seals had found, shot and killed Osama bin Laden.  I was surprised at the news. That’s it, just surprised.  I suppose I was waiting for my brain to begin processing the information.

As I shampooed my hair my mind wandered. I felt I should have been ecstatic at the news but then I realized that I was unable to find happiness and cause to celebrate the intentional death of another human being.  Don’t get me wrong, I have not forgotten the innocent lives lost in the attacks of 9/11 nor have I forgotten the lives lost in the almost 10 years since then of military members from a host of nations in the war against terror in the Middle East.  Their deaths cannot be marginalized, trivialized or lessened in any way.  As a nation, we still feel the full effects of the loss of almost 3,500 innocent lives as well as the loss of 4,452 troops.  When we do the math, we find that we can attribute roughly 8,000 deaths to Osama bin Laden.  If anyone deserved the death penalty, he certainly did.

Studies show that the families of victims of violent crime who watch the execution of the perpetrator rarely achieve closure or any sense of satisfaction, justice, happiness or celebration.  At the end of the day, they still take home the ache of their loss.  Some report that their anger and bitterness have not subsided and that they feel hatred for anyone who may look or act like the perpetrator of the heinous crime committed against their loved ones.  Some act out on these feelings, others swallow them like a bitter but ineffective pill every single day.  In the end, the death of the monster changes nothing.

On the day extremist Muslim members of Al Qaeda terrorized the world by flying airplanes into the twin towers and the Pentagon, a small number of other extremists danced and celebrated at the devastating loss of lives they had inflicted.  If we dance and celebrate the death of Osama bin Laden, we become no different than those extremists who took 3,500 lives for shock value.

I found this on the web, and it really put into words where I was with the whole thing.  I wish I knew who wrote it so I could credit him or her:

Osama’s death in and of itself is not reason to rejoice, for we should neither dignify the man’s life by giving it such importance or be hypocritically glad for the murder of any man. The reason to be glad is that because he is gone, so is one more evil, and with him dies a piece of what he represents. Rejoice that you and your loved ones are still alive. Dance because you are here, not because he is not.~ Unknown

I also found this quote, incorrectly attributed to Martin Luther King Jr. that speaks to this occasion as well:

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Once upon a time, I thought America’s citizens were better than this — able to rise above this kind of tragedy and turn it into something positive from which future generations can learn and benefit.  Instead, we boast that the torture of Muslims in Iraq and Guantanamo Bay got us what we needed to know in order to kill Osama bin Laden and several others.  We prance about, happy to display our big balls to the world, blissfully ignorant to the fact that we have become that which we condemn and hate.

Heated debate also surrounds the notion that “Obama is taking credit for what Bush did.”  Obama haters need to believe this in order to fuel their own racist hatred for him.  In fact, he’s not taking credit for anything other than giving the order to green light the mission.  Unfortunately, those who hate Obama with such intensity as those I have seen making these statements have a deep rooted need to make it about Obama being less than he is.   The last thing they will do is give him credit for having the guts to green light the mission and eliminate the one person that all of America has joined together in hating.  No more, no less.  In fact, those same people still want to canonize George W. Bush who failed for eight years to find Osama bin Laden, who declared “Mission Accomplished” in a publicity stunt that saw more than 4,000 deaths of US Troops after the “accomplishment” of said mission.  The only mission that was accomplished that day was a publicity stunt because, as of this writing, the mission still isn’t accomplished.  We are still enmeshed in a quagmire of violence in the Middle East, with no end in sight.  That, my friends, was not Mr. Obama’s doing.

For those that are still dancing and celebrating over the death of Osama bin Laden, let me ask you this.  Do you really think that is the end of it?  Are you so blissfully ignorant in your happiness that you can’t figure out that the gloating, dancing, celebrating and cheering over the death of Osama bin Laden will only serve to inflame his followers who, being extremists, may very well decide to do something that will cause greater losses and tragedies here in this country?  It’s very likely this will be the calm before the storm.  When the retaliation happens, and the losses are greater and more than we can bear, remember your days of dancing and celebrating because, when you dance, you eventually have to pay the piper.

As many of you know, I’ve been taking classes here at MCC in an effort to learn something about the business world and what challenges I will face with regard to our business. In all honesty, the degree was secondary to my desire to learn and, based on what MCC had outlined for my major (Entrepreneurial /Applied Business Studies), I was very impressed with the program and eager to begin the learning process.

My first experience at an online course here at MCC was fantastic. It was a course in Supervision and the instructor had the course well-organized, instructions were clear and concise, and she required a lot of writing to thought-provoking questions. I enjoyed that class and learned a lot about the basics of business and myself as a potential business owner. I got an A in that course and was pretty darned pleased with myself. I reasoned that, if I could get an A in that course with all of that writing, I could succeed in anything else.

In stark contrast, my next foray was the total opposite. It was an Introduction to Business course and one I eagerly anticipated. However, on 14 separate occasions, the instructor had excuse after excuse after excuse as to why modules weren’t opened in a timely fashion, and papers weren’t graded. I stuck with it, however, and finished with an A in spite of the professor.

Next it was English and Entrepreneurial Studies I. The English teacher was also ill-prepared and disorganized. During the Thanksgiving holiday, students were sitting at their computers for hours at a time, posting on the discussion boards “Where is the assignment?” and “Why isn’t it posted?” Assignments were posted late but due dates weren’t changed. I reasoned that it was ridiculous to subject myself to that kind of stress voluntarily (as many of the students’ posts seemed to indicate they were ready to implode from the stress) and withdrew from the course. I decided there were enough English 101 courses taught online that I could take it another semester with a different teacher and, hopefully, have better luck.

The Entrepreneurial Studies I class, in stark contrast, was interesting and challenging. The professor supplemented textbook information with self-assessment exercises and asked us to write our thoughts about our self-assessments. Even though the course was tough, I eagerly rose to the challenge, and finished up with an A.

This semester, I’m enrolled in Entrepreneurial Studies II and am enjoying it immensely. Like the first part, it is challenging and requires a lot of thought and a lot of writing. So far, I’m carrying an A.

I’m also enrolled in a late-start Economics class that starts next week. I found out today that not only does it require a $140 textbook but it also requires access to a web portal that costs an additional $90. I’m going to drop the class before it starts. It’s ridiculous — this is the equivalent of a $230 textbook, for all intents and purposes, and it’s not even a core requirement course.

Another course I really need for the degree, and really want for its subject matter, is Introductory Accounting and Financial Analysis. It’s not offered online. It’s not offered in the evenings. It’s only offered during the day when working people cannot take it. I can take Accounting 101 and Accounting 102 instead but between the two it’s more accounting than I need and less financial analysis than I need. Not to mention the fact that I would have to pay for TWO classes (6 credit hours) to get the four credit hours I need for the requirement.  Did I mention a $150 textbook, with a $60 workbook for EACH of the two sections of the course, PLUS a $90 web portal access fee?  That’s $300 per semester in materials.

I also need Principles of Marketing and, from what I can see, the only person who teaches it online is the one with the 14 excuses.

And, just to add some frosting to the cake, I submitted all of my military training for review and to have it converted to college credits. I got hosed on that as well. Much of the training I took in the military was far more advanced than the 101 level courses taught in any college but I was not given hardly any transfer credits.
I should have been given credit, for example, for the Freshman level English. No go. Freshman level natural science. No go. Interpersonal Speech and/or Small Group Communication. No go. Oh, but the good news is that I got those two credit hours for physical education! Not much else, but I won’t have to take a gym class.

With only a few years left between me and retirement, I don’t NEED this degree. I just thought it would be nice to work toward it because the program itself would have been so beneficial to us with our business. MCC has “talked” me right out of pursuing this any further.

MCC is a great place to work, don’t get me wrong, but it sure isn’t the place for me to get a degree.

My son was pacing the floor about going. His dad and I decided he wasn’t traveling the expressway today. His class doesn’t show cancelled. I work for Greece Schools and we’re closed. He’s staying home and safe. New driver… we’re being cautious.

Snowmageddon. Snowicane. Snowpocalypse. Snownado.  All terms I heard used to describe the monster storm that wreaked so much havoc in the midwest yesterday.

Here in Rochester, NY meteorologists predicted 12-20 inches of snow and one (Glen Johnson) called those numbers “conservative.”  But, because the storm tracked to the west more than was anticipated, it allowed warmer air to get ahead of it and the snowfall totals just didn’t climb the way it was thought they would.

However, enough snow and rain fell to create greasy, slippery conditions on the expressways and snow-covered side streets were still difficult to maneuver through, depending on where in the city (or outlying areas) people lived.  As I write this, at the dinner hour on February 2, it is snowing furiously and accumulating rapidly as well.

Government services (but not government offices) were closed.  No WIC for the kids.  Refuse pickup was delayed by a day.  Doctors offices, senior centers, and every Meals On Wheels Program — canceled.  Every school in the county, as well as every school in the outlying areas (and neighboring counties) was closed this morning.  Keuka College, Genesee Community College (all branches) and Fingerlakes Community College were all closed.  Monroe Community College was not closed.

With a student enrollment figure in the Fall of more than 18,000 students Monroe Community College is a beacon to all the outlying areas and counties — a beacon of educational light to those who might not otherwise be able to afford college tuition in four-year institutions.

I can’t attest to how many of those 18,000 students commute during the morning rush hour to attend 8:00 classes.  What I can attest to, however, is how little traffic I encounter during the morning commute when MCC’s classes are not in session.  That’s a whole bunch of students, and a whole bunch of faculty that aren’t making that morning drive.

Monroe Community College’s catalog says this about closing, with my remarks in bold italics:

When classes or activities are cancelled, faculty and students should not come to thecampus.  All other staff and administrators should report as usual.

Translation: Staff is expendable and we don’t mind making them risk life and limb to come in to work when there are no students or faculty to serve.

Rochester area radio and television stations will be notified no later than 5:30 a.m. <snip> For weather-related events, college officials continuously assess current and forecasted weather conditions. Minimally, county fire, National Weather Bureau, Brighton Police Department and New York State Police radio frequencies are monitored, as well as the Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority (RGRTA) for bus scheduling and cancellations. Weather storm warnings and travel advisories also are monitored closely. Campus roadways are monitored by Public Safety and Facilities personnel on duty. Recommendations to cancel classes, close the college, or remain open are made by the Director of Public Safety to the President of the college or his/her designee.

Fully two hours prior to the beginning of the rush hour commute the decision is made.  The real assholes who cause dangerous conditions and accidents are on the roads between 7:30 and 8:00 and THAT is when the real road conditions are often “discovered.”  Someone hits a patch of black ice, causing an accident, which causes dangerous conditions to other drivers on the expressway.  A lot can happen in two hours, weather-wise. This is, after all, Western New York where the weather is as changeable as a politician’s loyalties.  Just because the college doesn’t hear anything on the state police scanner, that doesn’t automatically make conditions safe.  It just means there’s hardly any traffic and no idiots out…yet.

Weather conditions in MCC’s large service area can vary widely. Employees and students are encouraged to make a personal decision on whether to travel the roadways during inclement weather. Students who
miss class as a result of inclement weather are encouraged to communicate with their professors regarding missed class work.

I sincerely view this as a disclaimer meant only to cover liability bases.  The reality is vastly different.  I know staff members who all scoff and say “Yeah, and if I call and tell my boss I think it’s too dangerous, I get written up.”  I have put two kids through school at MCC and both have had classes on days like today, where there are next to no students in class.  One instructor who had an exam scheduled on a snow day went ahead and administered the exam and gave the students who made that personal decision a zero with no chance to make up the exam.  Other faculty members give bonus points to the students who do show up — which I believe encourages those students to NOT make a responsible decision with regard to their safety if grades are of concern to them.  The sensible ones cancel classes or tell their students ahead of time that they will not be penalized for making a decision about their personal safety.  Will some students take advantage? You bet — probably more than not, but in the end, it’s their decision.

I tell my own staff that they are better judges of their own capabilities and limitations when it comes to driving in bad weather.  They also are better judges of their vehicles and what the vehicles are capable of.  They know the hazards of every day travel and what makes those hazards more intense.  I don’t know that and don’t profess to know enough about any  fit in order to make an informed decision regarding their individual safety.

If MCC is going to remain open during situations like we had today, the administration absolutely MUST adopt a policy (and enforce it) that requires faculty to cancel exams or other grading opportunities on days when some people cannot make the commute due to weather.  A canceled exam for today can easily be rescheduled for another day.  The policy must also be communicated college-wide that any employee of the college who makes the decision to not travel during the bad weather shall not be penalized or disciplined in any way by their superiors.  Sure, they will have to be charged a day from their leave bank but better to give up a sick/personal/vacation day than risk injury or worse in hazardous conditions.

Additionall, and I know MCC is going to find this hard to believe, but not everyone has internet connection at home or on their cell phones.  Some people still don’t have cell phones.  There has to be a better way to communicate class cancellations than to simply tell students to check the college’s web site.  That’s sort of useless information in the wake of an ice storm or other weather phenomenon that causes widespread power outages.  I have suggested on numerous occasions that the college require faculty who cancel classes to put an announcement on their voice mail to alert students to the cancellation.  If students call that number and there isn’t an announcement of a class cancellation, and they travel through hazardous conditions to attend a class that is canceled, they should have a means by which to inform the college that it needs to work on communication.

Another problem with the fact that MCC never closes is that the Public Safety director and/or the President don’t seem to take all things into account.  For example, what is the average age of a college freshman and/or sophomore?  18-20 in all likelihood.  18 year olds have only been driving a year and a half, tops.  Their experience doesn’t make them qualified in any way to make a decision on the safety of the roads, nor does it make them safe on the slick, greasy roads due to their inexperience.  Even assuming they are good, safe drivers, they are still going to encounter drivers that are NOT safe — texting or talking on the phone, driving aggressively, etc.  Their lack of experience increases their risk of serious injury or death if they are involved with an unsafe driver.  MCC puts these kids at risk every time they ignore the weather and road conditions.  What the director of Public Safety and the President need to ask themselves is this one simple question:  Would I want my OWN son or daughter out driving in this during the rush hour commute?

I have worked at MCC for seventeen years and not once have I seen the college close in those seventeen years.  Only once have I seen an early dismissal, and that was back in the mid-90s.  I think that says a lot, doesn’t it?

Here are some comments from MCC’s facebook page today regarding the college not closing:

My parents have me on lockdown and I am thankful.

Sorry not going today either. My life is just a wee bit more important than missing ASL.

Seriously? Every school within a 50+ mile radius is closed, roads are slick and even if not bad others don’t know how to drive.

Looking at the class cancelation page it looks like some of the faculty have more sense than the administration.

I think it’s pretty ridiculous that I have to put myself in harms way for my HOUR DRIVE to MCC just because I don’t want to fall behind in my Spanish class…

How are you gonna tell us that we can make our own decision to come or not? Yea so if we decide not to then we get a big fat ABSENT for that day. Its all up to the professors really and some just love teaching so much that they would risk their life to get there. Some may even live right around the block from the school. All in all, its not fair!

It would seem that Senator Alesi had no idea what anxiety this lawsuit would cause the community, so he has withdrawn the suit.

Mind you, he’s not saying he’s pulling it because it’s the right thing to do, but because the community is so overwrought.

What now, sue his constituents for pressuring him into withdrawing the suit?

He’s still a douchebag.

The Monroe County GOP has issued a public denouncement of Senator Jim Alesi’s lawsuit (see previous blog post).

The last part of the announcement reads “Senator Alesi needs to drop this irresponsible lawsuit, appologize and get to work at rebuilding the shattered trust of his constituents.”

As if that could happen in this century.

From our local ABC affiliate today comes a news story about our State Senator Jim Alesi, who was re-elected this past November after a nasty and contentious campaign.

Last Spring, when the State Senate voted on a marriage equality bill, Senator Alesi pretended to “agonize” over his decision, voting “No” after assuring his constituents who lobbied him for equality that he would vote yes, claiming it didn’t have a chance so he voted “No.”  I wish I could call that bad logic but the word logic doesn’t even come into play with that kind of statement.

But here’s the thing — three years ago, Senator Alesi entered a home that was under construction, WITHOUT permission from the owners and WITHOUT permission from the contractor.  In other words, he was trespassing at the least and guilty of breaking and entering at the most.  Apparently, seeing that there was no stairwell built between the basement and the first floor, Senator Alesi decided to climb a ladder that was on site to check out the upstairs.  He fell off the ladder, sustaining pretty serious injury to his leg, which required surgery.

Feeling that pressing charges or suing the Senator would accomplish nothing, the couple that had recently purchased the still-under-construction home declined to prosecute or sue.  They told the local ABC affilate that they “didn’t want to make a bad situation worse” for the jerk.

Apparently they had three years to press trespassing charges before the statute of limitations expired.  That statute expired this past Tuesday.  On the very day that statute expired, the Senator filed a lawsuit against the homeowners and the construction company, alleging of all things that the place wasn’t safe, and claiming that HE was PLACED AT RISK (while trespassing) because of the contractor’s negligence (apparently in leaving a ladder on a construction site).

So, let’s recap…

1. Senator enters a construction site without permission from anyone.
2. Senator climbs a ladder at said construction site and falls and breaks his leg.
3. Owners and contractors decline to press charges because they’re decent people.
4. Senator sues decent people claiming they are responsible for his irresponsibility.

Got it?

I’m betting Senator Alesi has already made the decision to not run for re-election when his time is up again and decided he needs a nice retirement income (in the form of damages from the lawsuit) on which to live.

Is there any wonder people don’t trust elected officials?

This guy is truly, without any doubt, a real piece of shit.

 

***1/23 UPDATE***

The contractor’s wife has a blog and has an informative recap of the facts here.

As I trudged through the snow-covered driveway, hatefully kicking the snow aside, my thoughts were centered on all that I had to accomplish in the next 24 hours.  It was the day before Christmas Eve and my employer had graciously dismissed everyone at 2:00 for the holiday break.  I had stopped off at Dick’s on the way home and bought Lisa a nice case for her new shotgun and then made my way over to Best Buy to find a case that she could wear at her waist to hold her cell phone.  I had found both items quickly and managed to get home by 4:00 — there was still time to get dinner started and get some wrapping done before Lisa got home from work around 5:15.

I knocked the snow off my boots as I unlocked the door, knowing full well that sound would send one cat scattering, and another would run to the door to greet me.  As I opened the door I called out “Hey kids! I’m home!”  Sadie, our youngest, bounded down the stairs to greet me, and her nose scanned every snow-touched part of my pants and boots.  In the distance I could hear Idgie in her hasty retreat into our bedroom to hide from whatever terrors she imagines each time the doorbell rings or she hears a thump at the door.  Simba lay on his bed inside his pen, showing some interest in who was coming in but not making any attempt to put a lot of real effort into the investigation.

Simba is diabetic. With diabetes comes neuropathy, weakness in the legs and, in his case, his hind legs.  With that weakness he is unable at times to make it to his litter box and so, he has “accidents.”  Because of the accidents, we felt it necessary to pen him when we aren’t at home.

I let Simba out of his pen, kicked off my boots, and went upstairs to get out of my work clothes and into my more comfortable sweats, ready to enjoy the next 17 days off.  As I changed my clothes, Sadie buzzed by me and jumped onto the bed to play the fingers-under-the-blanket game.  I played with her a few minutes and then went back out to the living area.  I didn’t see Simba immediately and decided to try to find him, lest he be somewhere having an accident.

As I descended the stairs, I called out to him as one would a person who would actually respond.  Thinking he may have gone into the back room to use a litter box back there, I started toward that location.  I took a few steps into the hallway and my brain began to slowly register that something wasn’t quite right.

“Shit!” I exclaimed as I realized that my sock was wet — I had stepped in what seemed to be a puddle.  Yanking the sock off and furious that I hadn’t watched Simba closely enough to prevent him from having an accident, my brain still hadn’t registered that the “puddle” extended the entire length of the hallway and realization slowly seeped in when my brain finally registered that I was standing in warm water and the laminate floor squished and oozed water with each step I took.  At that same moment I realized I could hear water running and the processor in my brain fiddled with that information just a while longer before it reached a solution. The water heater had burst.

I sprang into action, grabbing towels and placing them along the baseboards in the hopes that the water would not penetrate the walls and get into the bedroom that we had just redone.  I called Lisa (who was only 8 half-days into a new job) and frantically screamed into the phone “You have to come home. RIGHT NOW!”  Panicked, I told her that the water was running wide open and before long the whole basement would be flooded.  “Turn off the water at the main,” she calmly said. DUH!  (Yeah, this is precisely why I keep her around.)

I turned off the water at the main and turned my attention to how we were going to get hot water for the holidays.  My heart sank when I realized it was 4:30 on the day before Christmas Eve and the likelihood of finding anyplace open was slim at best.  I grabbed the phone and dialed the number of a local company (Tomeno Home Services) that we had used before.  I knew their number right off the top off my head, not because we call them frequently but because their number was easy to remember.  671-6755.  671 is a Webster prefix and I just sort of remembered that.  But Lisa was born in ’67 and I was born in ’55 and the last 4 digits of the phone number are our dates of birth. Cool, huh?

When the phone was answered on the other end, I have a harried and panicked description of what was happening, lamenting to the person on the other end “What am I going to do with a houseful of people coming tomorrow?”  “Ma’am, I can have someone come over there right away, don’t worry” I was told.  I gave him my address, phone number, email address, and I think he even asked for my mother’s secret soup recipe but I can’t be sure.  He told me someone would be right there and we hung up.  Just mere moments later, a van was backing into my driveway with the logo “1-800-PLUMBER” on the side.  “Damn, that was fast!” I thought to myself.  As it turns out, the guy (Matt) lives right around the corner from me and was just getting home when he got the call.

As Matt pulled out the old water heater, his boss put together an order and picked up what was needed from their distributor and delivered it to our house.  By 7:30 PM we had a new water heater installed, and had running hot water.  Crisis averted. Well, not averted but lessened.  We still had that soggy laminate that needed to be pulled up as well as the underlayment — fortunately the downstairs sits on concrete so we didn’t have to worry about that.  The water damage was contained to the laundry room, the bathroom where the water heater is housed, and the hallway.  Allstate came out the following week and surveyed the situation and stroked me a check for about $200 more than the cost of the water heater to fix what we could.  Great job Tomeno Home Services and Great job Allstate!

But the story doesn’t end there.  Oh no, never where Pat and Lisa are concerned will a story end happily like that.

Last Sunday Lisa spent the day trying to weatherproof and insulate the family room/entryway a bit better.  We had gotten an “estimated” bill from RG&E for (are you sitting down?) Four Hundred Dollars! When I talked with Lisa on the phone about it, and pointed out it was estimated, she suggested we send them an estimated payment.  I love that woman!

So, there she is, insulating and weatherproofing and, the whole time the family room was just damned cold because she had stuff all torn apart and cold air was coming in from everywhere.  Her project done, she cleaned up and put things away and we had a nice relaxing dinner and evening.  It still felt cold in the house but sometimes it takes a while for that old furnace to catch up when we let that much cold air in.

Around 11:00 we were getting ready to turn in for the night and Lisa took Simba down to his pen.  She commented that it was still very cold down there and I suggested that she turn the thermostat up a couple of degrees to warm the house faster.  As I prepared for bed, I heard her call upstairs “Are you even sure the furnace is on?” I got that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Again.

I trudged down the stairs and into the laundry room where the furnace resides.  Taking off the front plate I saw immediately that the pilot light was out.  Lisa found some matches and we lit the pilot. We tried to turn the switch to heat but the pilot went out.  After several attempts of lighting the pilot and having it go right back out when we moved it to heat we realized the furnace had died.

Now, what you have to understand is that we live in Western New York, just off Lake Ontario.  We have had a lot of snow this year, much more than average.  The forecast for Sunday night was for temperatures below zero.  We got two space heaters out and put one upstairs and one downstairs in the hopes that it would keep the house from totally freezing over.  We adjusted all faucets to deliver a fast drip so the pipes wouldn’t freeze, and then opened unpackaged flannel pajamas to wear to bed in an effort to stay warm.

At some point during the night Sadie came in and burrowed under the covers for warmth.  By the time the alarm went off at 7:00 AM yesterday morning, it was 38 degrees in our bedroom.  Both of us had slept fine and stayed warm, but the house was an iceberg.  I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, turning on the hot shower to get the room warmed up for Lisa, as she had to work (I had the day off).  In the living room, the thermometer read 52 and downstairs in the family room the thermometer read 50.

The same company that replaced the water heater came to look at the furnace.  The heat exchange is full of cracks and the furnace is just on it’s last legs. The technician replaced the thermocoupler with a warning to make sure we have a CO2 detector and to start thinking about a new furnace — to the tune of $3,995.

Last night, after dinner, we opened the dishwasher to empty it to get it loaded for the next round, only to see that the bottom was full of water — water that apparently cannot be pumped out.

They say these things happen in threes, and I certainly hope this is it because I would have to work part-time for the next 25 years to pay for all the appliances to be replaced!

Finally, here’s something that’s really interesting (besides my **yawn** major appliance issues):  This year we will have 1-1-11, 1-11-11, 11-1-11 and 11-11-11 — now add the last two digits of the year you were born to the age you are turning this year and see what you get.

I’m back, sort of.

I got sort of burned out blogging.  Sometimes it just gets to a point where it seems like a chore. So, I’ll give it another run and see where it takes me.

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SARAH PALIN IS AN IDIOT

It’s no secret that I think that Sarah Palin is worse than stupid.  I also think that she’s a publicity whore who just doesn’t seem to get much when it comes to intellect.  The only thing she understands is at the intelligence level of dumbshit – you know the types, the ones that listen to Rush Limbaugh and think he speaks gospel.

Of more concern is the people that think she’s politically savvy and capable of the Presidency.  These people are not well-read, they understand very little politically, and know next to nothing except what they hear on TV or the internet from unreliable sources (like Rush Limbaugh).  They know and understand just as little as Sarah Palin does, which is what makes her (and them) dangerous.  Like her, they see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe.

These are the same people that swear uphill and down that President Obama is Muslim (because someone said so) and offer absolutely no valid logic or proof behind the assertion. They hate the thought of a Muslim in the White House and would rather elect the Queen of Space Cadets to sit one seat away from the Presidency than to have a Muslim for President.  These are the same people that lashed out at Obama for his more than 20 year tenure in a CHRISTIAN church led by what appeared to be a hatemonger. Which is it? Is the guy a Muslim or a hateful Christian?

They believe in Sarah Palin’s “death squads” simply, it seems, because she said so. They subscribe to the theory that global warming is some liberal hoax because they read it on the internet.  And yet these same people decry the news stories that circulated about former President Bush’s desertion of the National Guard, even though documents exist to prove it. They point out that news agencies which provided documentation and testimony regarding Sarah Palin’s abuse of power as Governor of Alaska (with regard to the ex brother-in-law) as coming from a “liberal” publication and, therefore, an unreliable one while, in the same breath, holding FoxNews as the best example of factual reporting.

Here’s the thing — if these people were to actually seek out information from various sources, no matter how distasteful they may find those sources, they may actually find that they are not as “slanted” as they thought and they might actually learn a thing or two.

They might look at Sarah Palin’s recent video and really LISTEN to what she has to say rather than be dazzled by her (*retch*) good looks and/or charm. She comes right out and says that she condemns violence. Great. Good for her. She claims she condemns violence. But her speech and use of language say otherwise.

Do I think that Jared Lee Loughner committed murder as a result of Palin’s language? No. He and he alone is solely responsible for his actions. A friend of mine calls Palin’s use of GUN crosshairs to “target” 20 politicians an “unfortunate choice.” I agree to some degree but I also assert that if the crosshairs were the only “gun language” she used, we could leave it at that.  But Sarah Palin used terms like “reload” and “lock and load” when it came to targeting and re-targeting these pols and, rather than just say “Hey, you know, in hindsight I could have used less offensive speech.  In the wake of the shootings in Arizona I see now how my words and actions could be perceived as offensive and I apologize.” That would have been the classy thing to do.

What does she do instead? She paints HERSELF as a victim of the media and politicians, referring to criticism of her as “blood libel.” And in a twist of irony, she condemns the right to free speech exercised by the media, pundits, bloggers and politicians while asserting her own in defense of her offensive language!

Sarah Palin is a vacuous airhead.  As my ex used to say “With all that vacuum between her ears, she probably gives one hell of a header.”

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For a much more articulate, eloquent  (and far less hateful, I’m sure) rant on Palin than mine, read this Palin commentary at Frum Forum.

In my younger years, I was an athlete.  I played every intramural sport there was for girls at our high school – field hockey, soccer, basketball, softball, tennis, track and field.  There was nothing I wouldn’t try and it seemed as if I could just never sit still.

At the completion of my senior year in high school, I was 5’3” and weighed a whopping 88 lbs. (with clothes on).  If I stood sideways and stuck out my tongue, people mistook me for a zipper.  Breasts? Is that what those little pimply-looking things on my chest were supposed to be called?   Honestly, I longed for the day that I could grow enough boob to fit into a 32A bra.

I joined the Army right out of high school.  The least I could weigh on enlistment was 103 lbs., waiverable down to 97 lbs.  The doctor that performed my physical said “You’re in excellent physical condition and will do fine in basic training” when he read those pitifully small numbers on the scale, so he entered those two digits I needed on the physical form. 97.  What he didn’t know what that I’d had 4 bananas for breakfast and had ten rolls of quarters in my pockets.

In basic training, we were weighed weekly.  My drill sergeant, a very butch woman with a considerable caboose was horrified the first time I stepped on the scales in front of her.  She took to accompanying me through the chow line, heaping my tray with every high calorie food she could reach, and then some.  I ate it all, and didn’t gain an ounce. I saw the seething hatred boiling just below her eyelids every time she saw me.

Fast forward ten years and three kids later, I was up to 130 lbs.  I had gained 67 lbs. with my third pregnancy and had managed to lose close to 40 of those pounds.  I wasn’t terribly upset at weighing 130 lbs. as I thought I looked pretty good and, as an added bonus, I had real, honest-to-God boobs – the kind that move and jiggle when you jump up and down.  Compared to my younger years, I woke up mornings feeling as though I was in the Pyrenees Mountains.

Fast forward again to September of 1998 when I quit smoking.  I weighed 137 lbs. and, afraid I’d gain a lot of weight following my smoking cessation program, I began working out compulsively.  I lost about 8 pounds in three months but, once the holidays set in, so did those lost 8 pounds.  I became lethargic.  My idea of working out was clearing the snow off my vehicle in the morning.  Aerobics? That was walking in and out of work.  I worked up a sweat pulling the lever on the recliner to lean back.  Two years later, Lisa moved in and, somewhere in that U-Haul was another forty pounds that I ended up carrying.  Thirty five years after high school, I have gained the equivalent of another whole me.

This extra “me” doesn’t have a job, doesn’t help pay bills, and doesn’t help out around the house.  She drags me down when I try to climb stairs, sits in my lap, wears my jeans (with me already in them) and peers out from under most shirts that I wear.  When I walk, the view from behind reminds a person of two little kids playing under a blanket.  I’m nearing a time when I have to begin shopping for clothing from Omar the Tentmaker rather than JC Penney.  I have to keep my inner thighs shaved so that the hair doesn’t ignite from the friction of the two thighs rubbing together.  I am, in two words, physically PFFFFFFFFFFT.

And, just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse about myself, we bought a Wii.

Not just a Wii, Wii Active, complete with 30 day challenge and a “trainer” to motivate me.

I started right in with the 30 day challenge.  Being the arrogant ass that I am, I selected “medium” intensity, thinking that “light” intensity wouldn’t give me as much of a challenge as I needed.  The next day my legs felt shakier than Larry Craig’s “wide stance” explanation.  I find myself cursing regularly at the “trainer,” dropping the “eff bomb” whenever she tells me how good I’m looking and what a great job I’m doing.  But if I went too slowly and she’d tell me “You can do better than that,” the expletives exploded from my mouth, causing all four cats to scatter and, in the distant upstairs, I heard laughter.

I clicked on “start over” and opted for the “light workout” to begin a new 30 day challenge.  The cursing hasn’t stopped yet, and I’m already into my second week of “light” workouts.

Did I mention the leg strap that is supposed to go around the upper thigh, so that the system knows you are moving?  Did I mention that the strap barely goes around my enormous thigh and, because it seemed to want to slip down my thigh at the slightest movement, I had to keep cinching the Velcro closure tighter and tighter until it was no longer an exercise strap, but a tourniquet?  Every flex of my right thigh muscle caused a deep throb from within, and I found that I had no blood flow to my leg and my right foot would no longer cooperate with the messages sent from the brain.  I exercised as I imagined Igor must have looked in Count Dracula’s castle, with one leg trailing uselessly behind.  It took a few days but I finally found a happy ground for that darned leg tourniquet – one where my foot stayed pink instead of turning bright purple.

Now, let’s talk about fat for just a minute.  Fat jiggles.  There’s a reason why “The Night Before Christmas” describes Santa’s belly as a “bowl full of jelly.”  When fat people jump, run or otherwise move quickly, the fat moves against them.  As I jogged in place (on the jogging trampoline so my knees and ankles didn’t snap off on that hard floor), I felt the cheeks of my butt jumping up and down and, on the down, I felt pain.  To add to the humiliation, my boobs were doing the same thing and, at one point, I feared I’d black my eyes.  I now wear underwear that is three sizes too small and run with my arms over my boobs, for safety.  How on earth am I supposed to feel good about myself by working out when I have to suffer this type of humiliation?

I decided that every exercise I have to do needs to benefit me some way to enhance my relationship with Lisa, or to better my life in some way other than making me hurt– it’s the only way I can motivate myself to continue this insanity.

Side Lunges: One foot stationary, the other stretched halfway across the room.  OK, there’s a sexual visual there that I probably shouldn’t mention, so we’ll move on.

Running:  Okay, stamina and endurance.  This is good. I can do this.  This should give me the performance in bed that I want, and will allow me to walk up those six stairs without feeling like I ran a marathon, making me too tired for lovemaking.

High Kicks: While walking or running, you kick back high enough to look like you’re kicking yourself in the behind.  Well, I did a lot of that after that last relationship I had, so I don’t feel I need any practice doing this, nor do I see any benefit to this in the current relationship.  Lisa, on the other hand, probably wonders why she doesn’t get to do forward kicks of my behind, as that seems necessary from time to time.

Then there are all those resistance band exercises.  Looking like a large orange rubber band with handles, you stand on the band and do bicep curls or shoulder lifts or other such nonsense.  The secret here is to stand firmly on the band, lest it break free with a loud SNNN-AAAAP and whack your seriously over-padded behind stuffed inside that too-small underwear that keeps it from jiggling.

Finally, the workout ends.

I’m now free to go back upstairs, pour a large glass of wine, and eat a large plate of pasta, half a cake for dessert, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers for a snack an hour later.

I don’t think this Wii Active is doing me much good.

There’s been a lot going on in our lives recently.  I’ve been busy at work, busy at FarmVille and Mafia Wars, and busy planning a future with Lisa.

We’re moving out on our own and taking a huge leap of faith in ourselves (mainly Lisa) and going big-time in business.

If you follow this blog regularly, you know I’m a straight shooter.  If you know that and you agree, then move on over to the blog we created for our business and find out what you can do to help us.  Click the link.

GoldMar Enterprises Blog

When former Governor Eliott Spitzer resigned in disgrace, David Paterson stepped into the governor’s office and took over the daunting task of running a state with tremendous fiscal woes.  From a strictly GLBTQ point of view, he was a breath of fresh air and a lot of hopes were riding on him and his promise to bring same-sex marriage to New York.

But at what cost?

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m all for same-sex marriage.  After all, I brought suit against my employer for recognition of my own same-sex marriage and the subsequent ruling that came from this suit brought recognition of same-sex marriages to the entire state.  A couple of months later, Paterson ordered all state agencies to comply with this ruling — presumably because it was just the right thing to do.  And it was.

But what about everything else?  My first moment of incredulity where this guy is concerned was about a year ago, when I read the news about his proposed “obesity tax.”  This tax would have amounted to about 15% of the cost of a non-diet soda or, more correctly, “non-diet drinks.”  Interpreted loosely, this could mean milk, water, and 100% fruit juice, drinks that children need during their formative years.

A study by an independent group in Massachusetts indicates that “consumption of diet soda correlates with increased metabolic syndrome,” and that those who regularly consume diet drinks are “at higher risk for weight gain and elevated blood sugar.”   The researchers also acknowledged that diet soda drinkers were less likely to consume healthy foods, and that drinking diet soda flavored with artificial sweeteners more than likely increases cravings for sugar flavored sweets.  (Source)

He also called for reinstatement of sales tax on clothing and footwear.  I have mixed emotions about this because, on one hand, clothing is essential but, on the other hand, there are a lot of clothes horses out there.  I would favor taxing clothing that exceeds a certain dollar amount rather than across-the-board taxation.  Low-income folks can’t carry these burdens equally with their $100,000 per year citizens and it’s stupid to tax any necessity across the board.

And now, this morning’s news is that Paterson has proposed holding back tax returns to save money.  Now, this assumes that the money belongs to New York State, which it does not!  It belongs to the taxpayers on whose backs a tremendous burden has already been placed.  For many people, this money represents an “interest free loan” to the state government every year.  NY State’s withholding tables are such that they are NEVER adequate so many New Yorkers opt for an additional withholding to ensure they don’t have to pay at the end of the year.  I am outraged that Paterson would eyeball tax returns as a way to shore up financial defenses, if even for a month or two.  And in the end, it only prolongs the inevitable.  What then?

Instead, why not implement an excise tax on luxury items such as boats, second homes, vehicles over a specific dollar amount, and land over a certain size?  The point here is that, if you choose to indulge yourself with expensive toys, you should pay a higher tax amount on those items than you would, say, food or clothing.  The state of Massachusetts has an excise tax on cars and, while folks piss and moan about it every year, they pay their tax bills and keep their vehicles.  The assessment is based on the depreciated value of the vehicle minus a certain percentage.  We wouldn’t have to follow this completely — we could waive excise tax on vehicles that are more than, say, 10 models years old.  If you like a new car every three years or so, then you shouldn’t have any problem paying this excise tax.

Extend “sin taxes” beyond alcohol and tobacco.  Tax tanning beds, botox injections, and cellular phones (not the plans, as they’re taxed and surcharged to Hell and back).  I’m not talking sales tax, I’m talking some other type of tax similar to that which he proposed be levied against non-diet drinks.

Mr. Paterson’s “vision” is tremendously blurred (no pun intended) and if he is all the Democratic party in NY State has to offer for the next gubernatorial election, then they’re in deep shit.  We don’t need Paterson.  He needs to bow out of the next election.  He needs to sit down and shut up until that point.

But that’s just me…

No elaboration needed.