Rain, Rain, Don't Go Away

It's raining!!! I haven't seen rain in months and months! It's so wonderful. I wish my galoshes went with my Halloween costume tomorrow... Stay tuned for pics!

Keeping the Faith

So, I'll admit that off and on the past few years I've been struggling with my faith. Not my spirituality so much, but rather my stance on religion. After being told in a particularly conservative cathedral in St. Louis that I- along with many of my friends- are going straight to hell unless I changed my whole persona, I decided more or less that I no longer needed religion in my life. I like to think I'm a pretty decent character. I've dedicated my entire career to helping people. Not for the money (to be sure), not for the fame and fortune that comes with, but because I genuinely want the children I work with to have better lives. I tip well, I help strangers, I recycle, my dogs come from shelters and not breeders, and I have banked a lot of hours volunteering. Yet, at no harm to the earth or any of it's inhabitants, I am apparently leading a life so destructive that I'm banished to hell for eternity. No thanks. Not that my stopping to go to church in any way changed this destiny that was projected for me, but I just no longer felt the need to dedicate an hour of my life a week listening to rhetoric that I just didn't believe. 

Anyway, after a long hiatus, I decided to start attending church again when I moved out to California. Gerard and I found a lovely, liberal Presbyterian Church. It's been nice, and we met some cool people, but after a couple months we decided to keep shopping, if you will. Last Sunday, I was sitting in this church and out of the blue experienced a huge wave of nostalgia and desire for Mass. I'm not really sure why, but I had such an urge to get back into a Catholic church that I was counting down the days until the following Sunday arrived.  I wanted to move through the incessant transitioning on kneeling, sitting, standing and kneeling again. I wanted to sing the old hymns I grew up with, and wanted to daydream through the readings looking both at and past the stained glass windows. I didn't have expectations to go there permanently, but I just needed to go this once. Maybe I would make it a bimonthly affair? (Is bimonthly the one that's twice a month, or once every two months? I mean the latter). So after some Yelp searching, I find out that there's a Catholic Church in the Castro. Upon reading this, my brain made cartoon-sound-effect car break screeching noises. A Catholic Church in the Castro? Was this intentional, or had the church been there forever, and the happy community just spurted up around it? I was intrigued, so I braved off to it this morning, not knowing quite what to expect. I would either be met with pickets and a stoning for walking into such a historically closed-minded institution, or I was going to walk into a Catholic church like I had never before experienced. I quite gratefully encountered the second. My first impression was the overall vibrancy of the church. People were welcoming and talkative and cheerful. I've never been embraced so warmly by a Catholic church. Receptions to Mass of churches I attended for years and years were not half as friendly. Second, I noticed the bulletin, which clearly said it welcomed all people- of all colors, all sexual orientations, all affluencies, and all genders- male, female, and in between. Really? A quick glance around instantly confirmed this. A seventy year-old man was blowing a kiss to another elderly gentleman. Women were greeting each other with kisses on the mouth. During the homily, a man who may or may not have been homeless, and may or not have been drunk, pranced in completely unashamed with a bright pink cowboy hat with glitter embellishments draped around his neck. He genuflected at the pew, sat down, and energetically participated throughout the service, clearly no stranger to the traditions of Catholicism.As if acknowledging to me that this really is real, and the clergy really did welcome this, we spent a solid three minutes applauding the priest's announcement of the marriage of two gay members that took place yesterday. Everyone was completely themselves. There were no facades, no shame, no glares. It was beautiful. I will be back.

Pro-America

So, for the first time in the history of the world, I am more looking forward to Election day than Halloween. Don't get me wrong- I'm really excited about Halloween, but I'm even more excited about sending Sarah Palin and Joe the Plumber back into obscurity. I'm embarrassed to admit that yes, I did used to identify myself as a Republican, which I blame entirely on my naivety, ignorance, and red-state upbringing. But now I'm really having trouble understanding and respecting a Conservative viewpoint. I really just am. And I say this knowing that some of my dearest friends back in Georgia are Republicans, but I just don't understand it. I don't understand why, in the midst of this economic crisis, that people want to foster and encourage the continued separation of classes. I don't understand why people don't think that health care should be affordable and available, or that we shouldn't give money to the public education system that continues to go to shit. I don't understand why people think someone "just like them" should be second in commmand in the Oval Office- and second in command to a 72 year old cancer survivor at that. 

Our recent trip to Lake Tahoe gave Gerard and I interesting insight to the political campaigning that has apparently been going on in battle ground states. Here in California, we don't really see a lot of the presidential commercials going around, because God forbid we elect another republican after the hell the Governator is putting us through. But, Nevada on the other hand, allots approximately 75% of their advertising capacity to the campaign. I'm telling you- it is nonstop. Here in Cali- most of our efforts are focused on numerous propositions we are to vote on on November 4- mainly Prop 8.

I'm fairly certain no matter where you live you've heard of Prop 8- but if you've been living in a hole- Proposition 8 seeks to amend our state constitution and discontinue to allow same-sex marriages to be granted.

So, not even touching on the $150,000 of campaign money spent to make Sarah look all nice and pretty, people are spending millions and millions of dollars to campaign for Prop 8. Teachers are getting laid off because our education system has no money, but millions of dollars are sent in to ensure that two committed, loving individuals cannot receive the same constitutional rights as other couples. Why the fuck do you care so much?? They are not hurting you! They are not taking away your rights! They aren't doing a damn thing to change or alter your lives in any way whatsoever- so why would you focus so much money, hatred and discrimination against them? I'm so upset about this I can't even focus my energy. You are against homosexuality. I get it. But we have this dandy little thing in this nation called separation of church and state. And your church might not like it. But mine is okay with it. So who has the trump card?

So you say marriage is a sacred, church-filled sacrament. So what about the people who get married in their backyard? On the beach? In city hall? What about the atheists that get married? Pagans? Hindus? Last I checked you weren't trying to negate their ability to marry. And, last I checked, marriage was not limited to being recognized by the church. It changes the way you file taxes, purchase property, make hospital visitations, all sorts of undogmatic fashions. You say that marriage and sex is in order to procreate. What about the couple unable or unwilling to have children? What about the gay couples wishing to adopt children? What with them? You say you don't want gay marriage being taught in schools. First of all, marriage isn't taught in schools in any regard. Second of all, who the hell cares? Kids are taught about wars, assassinations, violence, racial segregation, the whole shebang. But instead of being worried about our young impressionable kids becoming bigoted murderers, we're worried about them kissing another boy?! Eek! I hear Massachusetts is just running rampant with pre-adolescent homosexuals. What will we do? Or are we worried about them being open-minded, tolerable individuals? Yikes! Spare me!

Please, please vote on Nov 4. And while you're at it, vote Obama. And if you really love me, move to California so you can vote no on Prop 8 because it is ridiculous above words.

Busing It

Today I had to sit through a mind-numbingly boring, all-day presentation on how to use a computer program for work. Afterwards, I was walking to the bus stop cursing the inefficient waste of time that it was when I saw a homeless man get excited over the melted remnants of a mostly-eaten Mc Donalds sundae that he had just dug out of a public trash can. There were no more than 5 bites left in the plastic cup, and, as the nature of the milkshake, the original customer had undoubtedly stuck a plastic spoon inside the ice cream directly after swirling it around hi mouth several times.  Not to mention what other trash and germs had found their way into that melted mess while sitting in the trash, but it was enough to put a smile on this man's face. Made me feel pretty bad being annoyed about my training session.

In an effort to be equally sappy, I'll comment on bus ride that followed. I don't like driving, and I don't really enjoy riding the bus either. I'm pretty sure that the happiness I feel from avoiding the stress, time and money of finding parking in the city is equally countered by the inconvenience and smell of the bus, the fear I have as we're crawling up steep hills that we might not make it, and the fact that going up these hills makes the person to my right unabashedly lean all over me. I'm pretty sure I didn't save any time avoiding parking when I got off the wrong bus stop and had to blindly guess how to get where I was going- all while huffing and puffing up the hills. But for a moment, I looked around at the crowded bus- at all the people who were going the same direction at the same time, and felt really happy that we were that many less cars on the road. And that is nice.

I have about 30 minutes before my art class tonight, and I'm very torn as to if I should shower or nap before heading out. 

911

So, knowing I work with kids, Gerard is aware that I can only infrequently answer my phone during a workday. So after seeing that I had missed two calls back to back from him, I was sure that something was wrong and needed my immediate attention. Worried, I called him back.

G: Hey, what's up?

Me: You called? Something wrong?

G: Yeah... I was hoping you'd tell me where the closest 7-11 is?

Me: 7-11?

G: Yeah, um, I really need a slurpee.

Yay Leanne!!

So first of all, congrats to my girl Leanne on Project Runway, and again my condolences for my future BFF, Jerrell.

But on to more important matters: Did anyone else notice that the PR finale was like a mecca for reality model show vets? We had Shannon from Make me a Supermodel and Bianca, Danielle, and Naima from Top Model. What's all the stranger tho, is how Naima was looking. It's no secret I had a huge girl crush on Naima back in the day, but she was not doing it for me tonight. :( She lost her super fabulous mohawk and looked just a mess. I suppose that's why none of the designers even picked her to walk the show. Boo. 

My Weekend Was Better Than Yours

 

Because I had a three day weekend, I could think of no better way to celebrate good ol' Chris C-bus than to do a little adventure trip myself. So Gerard and I packed up the pups and headed out to Lake Tahoe. Thinking we were out-tricking rush hour, we each left work early and got on the road well before 3. With less than 200 miles to go, we figure we'll be there before dinner no problem. Problem. Apparently everyone and their mother can finangle their way out of work before 3 pm on a Friday. Problem. The Bay Bridge sucks. Problem. People all across western and central California decided to ram into eachother that day. Problem. The twisting roads up the mountains, exacerbated by both nightfall and snowfall left the end of our trip to be very slow. So we barely managed to check into our quaint little B&B before the office closed at 9. Ouch. Luckily we were met with a nice fireplace and hottub. Things are looking up.

Gerard met this adventure the way he meets most outdoor adventures I drag him to- by getting sick. You see, Gerard is allergic to hiking and doing outdoorsy things. I try to take him to the Grand Canyon- puke all over the place. I try to take him to Tahoe- ditto. Bright and early, I'm up and ready to go, and poopy is lying in bed with the sheets pulled over his head. So, being the sweet girlfriend that I am, I leave his booty and walk to the lake with Kota. We sit down with my sketchpad and draw and enjoy ourselves save for the quite brisk temperatures. Some crazies on a church retreat who haven't heard of hypothermia walk Kota in fulfilment of a photo scavenger hunt, and then jump into the freezing lake while the lucky photographer stays on dry land.  Later that day, Gerard muscles up, and to his credit he soldiers through the rest of the day walking and driving around the lake.

Sunday, all 4 of us go on a breathtaking hike on the west side of the lake.  I can't post all the pictures I'd like to from the hike, so you'll have to check them out here.

After the hike, I realize my camera's memory card is full, and we have lots of fun plans awaiting us. We take an emergency trip to Staples to get a new memory card, where I learn my 6 year old 256mb card is very small and outdated, not to mention overpriced, as I bought a 4gb for a fraction of the price I had paid for that 256. But anyway, crisis averted.

We hop on to a paddleboat elegantly touted as a Dinner and Dancing Cruise. Ohh La La... At 15 minutes early, we're sure we'll get prime seating by a window, but apparently people have nothing better to do while off-season vacationing in Tahoe than to reserve the dinner tables, because we were about the last people to board the boat. We get the wine list, and my spirits are up to see Domain Chandon. Yay!! I order a bottle, and the waitress leaves. She comes back within seconds to ask again for my order. I repeat myself, and she looks at me skeptically and says she doesn't think they have that. I point it out in the menu and she says "Oh, yes we do have that!" She comes back a few minutes later and proudly holds up a cheap bottle of Wyatt. She seems very hurt when I tell her that is not what we ordered and yes, I do care. She comes back to tell me they indeed do not have my Chandon. Nor do they have the Chardonnay I then try to order. After finally being somewhat appeased by the bartender, and finishing our self-serve meal, Gerard and I take our wine glasses toward the edge of the boat to see out the windows better. She starts clearing out our meal, and holds up our half-full bottle of wine and asks "Do you still want this?" This story is getting long, so I'm going to save her from other ways throughout the night she annoyed me, but suffice to say she was still upset when her tip was not all that it may have been.

Gerard and I rocked out the casinos that night. I slipped a ten into a slot machine, and when I was down to my last nickel, I managed to pull some kinda crazy spin out and win 48 bucks! Gerard did even better by turning $50 into almost 400 in roulette. Hooray for us!

Monday morning we went

 on a final hike and said a sad farewell to Tahoe. :(

 This place was just ridiculously gorgeous...

Dear Jerrell from PR,

You were robbed. Like, more than Rami from last season- robbed. True, my heart lies with Leanne, but I'm quite confident we're destined to be best friends. So, go ahead and hop a ride up here to SF. We'll hang and make fun of people together! Yay, can't wait.

Shiny Little Man

Is anyone else really intrigued about why McCain's suit was so shiny tonight? Was it soaking wet? Pleather?

I can't think of a title for this

So, for those of you concerned, my drawing class is much more interesting than previously reported. We've now advanced from circles and lines, though this week presented my two biggest drawing nemeses. Rooms. And hands. Rooms and stairs and walls and dimensions and all those straight lines are so damn boring to me. I don't like them. I like drawing people. Naked people if you must know, but people. I like curves and eyes and implied movement and passion. So yes, I like naked people. Naked, hand-less people, I will clarify. I don't like hands. Hands are the hardest thing in the world to draw, in my humble opinion. But apparently, neither my rooms or hands are actually all that bad. I used to think I didn't like them because I was bad at them. But I now realize I'm ok at them, but I don't like them anyway.

I'm not sure what that means. 

The debate is about to start!!! 3 cheers for Obama and him being tall and smart and Democratic! Shout out also to Biden, with his charming smile, intelligence, lack of folksy sayings, and- most importantly- lack of winking! Hip hip hooray!

Pup Pups

I've recently felt compelled to start volunteering at our local SPCA, walking the dogs and such. Gerard is encouraging it and thinks it's a fine idea, which goes to show he doesn't know me, nor my compulsive nature, at all. He seems to be naively optimistic that I won't come back home one night with a new dog. Which is just silly, because I will.

Today Was A Day of Firsts

Today was the first day in our history in San Francisco that it called for rain. This was highly anticipated by Gerard and I, as we haven't seen rain since the day we drove out of Nashville. Outside the apartment, it looked the part, what with dreary skies and a light mist replacing the usual sun beating in through our windows. So I wore my dry wick tank and brought my trusty hat and Kota and I were off for our run. But instead, today was the first day the beach had bluer, clearer skies than our apartment. This really shouldn't be surprising, as it is well known that anytime I wear my trusty hat it doesn't rain (the only exception being the Cleveland Marathon...). Anyway, here we were with unexpectedly nice weather. Kota celebrated by marking this as the first day she voluntarily trotted through the water without pulling or darting away from it. She actually ran-swam deeper into the water while we were playing in it after our run. And today was the first day (because of the "rain") I didn't bring my camera to capture the moment. It was the first day I was nice (as opposed to bitchy) to a woman who's unleashed dog jumped on Kota. Partly because she was very apologetic, and partly because both dogs were playing nicely together. Today was the first day I ran the whole way without walking! This is especially surprising considering my weekday laziness of recent. And, it was the first day I drove to the beach and back without relying on Mark Jr at all. (Mark Jr's predecessor was my first electronic love, Mark, my original GPS who recently got laryngeal cancer and was subsequently rendered useless to me. The good people at Garmin decided Mark Jr. was a better option than chemo for Mark.... I promise I'll be more understanding if this happens to my non-electronic love). Anyway, my GPS-less trip is no more remarkable than it sounds. I'm just really bad with directions. 

Necessitating it's own paragraph was my first time running on the beach at the same time ROTC was training there. They were running a fair amount upland, whereas I was right on the waterline (I doubt either of those are real words, but you get the drift), but I was in the process of passing the massive lot of them. Until, that is, I noticed there chants were getting louder. At first I was all 'Yay- go America' until I realized their chants were getting louder because they had made a 90 degree turn and were now prepared for a direct collision with me. Luckily Kota and I made it out of their path of destruction unharmed. This was toward the beginning of my run, and I had noticed they also had a tent and cones set up nearby. On my way back toward the end of my run, I got to witness fun little relays they were doing- complete with doing wheelbarrows! (you know, like you did when you were kids and one person holds your feet up and you run forward on your hands), spinning around with your forehead on the cone (I thought this was only done on cheesy reality competitions), and carrying buckets of sand. It all looked pretty fun (except for the buckets of sand part) and for a second I wanted to hop in and join them, but I decided the beachtime fun wasn't worth the tradeoff of the whole Army-thing that comes with it. 

I had another rant I wanted to talk about, but this post is already pretty long, so I'm going to save it until next week and pretend like it was an original thought.

Whine and Cheese

So, last year I discovered reruns of the television show Everybody Loves Raymond. I never saw the show during it's original airing, but I imagine it must've been somewhat popular to have run as long as it did. It is touted as a comedy, but I must say I find it scary and depressing. Is nobody else tormented by the complacent, bickering, lackluster lives this couple faces after they are locked down in marriage and children? I feel nothing but the opposite of comfortable and relaxed while watching this show. 

After some fun, horrible, and questionable roommate experiences (in no particular order for those of you I still like!), I enjoyed the liberating experience of living by myself for two years more than I can express. It is a deal-breaker must-do before moving in with someone or getting married. Must-do. I gained confidence, independence, and self-realization that you just can't do under someone else's microscope. If you want to take it one step further on the bravery level- move to a city where you don't know a soul. I've done it several times, and am continually shaping the way I see myself as I respond to various situations. But I digress...

Upon preparation plans on (eek) moving in with a boy, I was naively optimistic and at peace with the decision. I went through a brief, late blooming apprehension (why can't we have two of everything? I love my couch/vacuum/set of pots), and a few moments of frustration (I can't storm out in a huff without bringing enough money for a hotel...), but all and all I'm at such peace and comfort with living with Gerard that I almost feel guilty for it being so easy. I have zip-o experience at maintaining a successful relationship, and somehow we just make it work (yes, I just finished watching Project Runway- yay Leanne and Jerrel!!). But with my comfort comes fear of complacency. And with my love and respect come fears of taking what we have for granted. And with my devotion comes a sometimes paralyzing fear of what would happen if I were to ever lose Gerard. But all in all, with my spontaneous speckles of fear come such a karmic, zen feeling of doing what I am supposed to be doing with my life that I can't imagine being anywhere else.  Of knowing that I could never be more true to myself than when I'm with him. And of knowing I could never support myself the way he supports me.

I learned at an early age by my enabling elementary school teachers that I was an exception to the rules. I could cry my way out of a late homework deduction because I was "gifted," and I could sneak my way out of trouble because I was a good kid. So I have no problem being narcissistic enough to believe that we won't succumb to the contrite and petty nature of married couples portrayed by the media. Because we're super. And he's cute.

This post has brought to you by my friend Insomnia, and my better friend, Wine.

Little Goblins

Ahhh, October! A beautiful time of year when insatiable children begin to ask, "Is it Halloween yet? What will you be for Halloween? You know what I'm going to be for Halloween?" Yep. These 31 days are gonna fly by...