Aren’t conservatives wonderful, tolerant, caring people?

And isn’t it great that Dick was there, rooting them on?

In other news, I finished reading The Bee Season this week. My mom had bought it for Brian for his birthday, but I was out of stuff to read.

I really enjoyed the book. About 1/2 way through, I had this feeling that things weren’t going to turn out so pretty. It made me sad how a family of 4 could live in such close proximity but be so incredibly far away from each other. I was also touched by Emma thinking she and her spelling had caused a divorce, and that if she simply gave up spelling things would revert to their previous state. Read it!

Now I’m reading The Pretty Bones, which I’m really liking so far. I love the concept that we each have our own personal heaven.

I wonder what would be in my personal heaven?
Dogs. Fort Funston. Golden Gate Park. Feelings of warmth. San Francisco weather on a perfect day (not too hot, not too cold, not windy, just warm, crisp, and clear). Laughing kids. Joy. Family and Friends. Wi-Fi everywhere. No football stadiums. No billboards. No companies. No powerpoint presentations.


In high school, I was taught a simple formula for slope.

I don’t remember it.

But I do remember the basic concept: x + y = z

If you had two factors, you could always, always, always figure the 3rd. It was an immutable law.

If you knew x and you knew y, z was yours. If you knew z and y, x was as good as gold.

The basic law? I dunno. 2 out of 3 ain’t bad?

Let x = past
Let y = present
Let z = future

If you plug those formulas in, the equation breaks down. Because you can never know z. You just can’t.

But when you know z. For example, if I were to say that at this moment, my life is over. There is no more future. Z = everything I know to date. Than X and Y could have been no other way.

When I, at age 90 or so (providence willing) look back on my life, there is no other way it could have turned out. Missed chances, paths never taken, the things that never happened will not be visible. Oh sure, I can dream about them, and wonder what if. But the cold hard x and the immutable y will add up to Z.

But if I add up my life to date, there is absolutely nothing solid I can predict about z.

Slope is for math, not for life.

Frustrated, not Desperate

Ok, too many people that have been reading this have characterized my tone as “desperately wanting baby.”

I want to be a dad. I will be a dad. But I’m not desperate to be a dad. I do not come home and cry over my lack of womb. I don’t despair about the lack of birthmom calls. In retrospect, I’m glad that we unmatched with Hurricane T and I have a bit more time to get the rest of my life together.

But I am frustrated with the open adoption process. I do feel frustrated with our adoption agency. After the hurricane, I really don’t feel like I can trust the agency to look out for our best interests. It feels like a pyramid scheme, and they make their money by bringing in as many adoptive families as possible, then inflating their “match” statistics by counting matches that eventually become “unmatches.” Amazingly enough, they just don’t have the time to keep track of “unmatches” – probably because it happens so often, they’d have to hire three more people to keep track of it all.

I’m frustrated that I don’t have much control over the process. We can network, we can advertise, we can wait, but ultimately a birthmom has to come forward and work together with us.

And it’s frustrating that even after a match, there are still so many ambiguities up in the air. Does she like us? Will she place? What will the kid be like? Will we be able to pay for it all, and still have a nice life?

Brian and I are looking forward to being parents. But we aren’t desperate. We aren’t contemplating baby snatching from hospitals, purchasing children, or pretending to be something we aren’t. We’re patiently waiting, but as I’ve said before, I suck at waiting!!!!

and that’s frustrating.

Yellow Dog

Today upstairs neighbor (B) and I took her wonderful dog to an oncologist across the bay. I don’t mean to minimize UN (B) when I describe her as such. She’s also a great friend, amazing cook, awesome realtor, and also my new business partner. But I’ll refer to her as UN, cause I kind of like the ring it has.

Yellow Dog is the dog in question. A few weeks ago a lump on her rib cage was identified as cancer. A week or so ago, the biopsy confirmed it. This week we went to see the oncologist that was a specialist.

UN made a really brave decision, after getting input from the oncologist about Yellow Dog’s prognosis, and let Yellow Dog leave us today. I was so sad, it broke my heart. That said, I think UN made the right decision.

I wanted to grab my magic wand, and make everything better. But I knew I couldn’t. The flip side of love is loss. They go together.

Yellow Dog was in pretty tough shape. She was in pain, and treatment options were not practical (treating the cancer would have destroyed the spine and neck, making the paralysis worse and also making the pain worse).

I have two dogs. I don’t ever want to face what UN faced today.

It broke my heart when they brought in the release for euthanasia. I don’t really understand the need for the form. I don’t think it protects you from a lawsuit because you sign it in an emotionally distressed state.

So many tears today. Oh so many tears.

If you are reading this UN, this is what I had wished I said today.

When you asked if you thought you were doing the right thing.

I wish I had said.

“If Yellow Dog could talk, she’d look at you, and she’d ask if you’d give her permission to go. Dogs are loyal. They stand by your side in good and bad times. They love you. They love to be loved by you.”

I think dogs want our permission to go. Not like they are asking for a hall pass. Not that they are afraid of what’s next. But dogs are so un-selfish. They want to be with us. They want us to love them.

And we do.

And she did.

And she does.

We love you, Yellow Dog.

eMail suckz

We got an email from a birthmom the other day. Or at least, we think we did. For all I know, it could be a really big hairy russian grandmother, surfing the internet for the first time.

I’m not a super big fan of email from birthmoms. It feels so empty. So strange. Like grasping at straws with total strangers. It feels hard to create a sense of connection, shared purpose, or heck, just to get to know the person.

Hopefully she writes back.

My childhood is online!

A story on CNN today about fifth-graders attempting to poison a fellow student caught my eye because I grew up just north of Denver, in Thornton.

This is the elementary school I attended. They have a godawful website. I walked to school most every day, it was only a few blocks. I lived on Fir drive, between Dorothy and Eppinger streets. I used to hang out at the Thornton Rec. Center which had a gym on one side and a library on the other. They have since built a new rec. center, and the one I remembmer is now the community center. There was also a park behind it that had a great slide. Nearby, we’d often play soccer games on the weekend.

I played for one or two seasons, but my mom was a coach, my brother played, and my dad was a referee. Both my parents went on to greater involvement with soccer at the state level.

The middle school I attended for two years, Merritt Hutton Jr. High (we we’re the matadors!) was torn down (it was falling off the hill) and replaced with Thornton Middle School. I’ve never set foot in it. Their website is better than my elementary’s, but that isn’t saying much!

If my family hadn’t moved to Michigan, I would have attended Thornton High School. They were the Trojans (insert adolescent joke about condoms right here!)

We moved to Michigan, though, (Dad got transferred) and I went to high school at Big Rapids High School (which has now become the middle school). As you can see, there wasn’t much to do in Big Rapids. The greater Big Rapids Convention and Visitors Bureau does have an email newsletter, though, which I’m thinking of signing up for! The Katke golf course was near my house, and I played there a few times. In fact, I think that is pretty much one of the last times I played golf!


The weather outside is delightful

Day 3 of superfab San Francisco weather continues. It was nice enough this morning that I could go running in my t-shirt and shorts, instead of the usual long-sleeve at this time of year. I usually run through Golden Gate park, and the victorian conservatory of flowers is soon to be back on-line, they just finished putting it’s dome back on.

No nibbles this month from birthmoms, which is kind of a bummer, and kind of okay. As the old saying goes, “everything happens for a reason.” Yesterday, the All our Families Coalition daily newsletter had a post from a gay couple networking for birthmoms. Long story short, they’ve been in the game for three years, and have had three matches fall-apart, the last one of which involved a reclaim of the child by the birthmom after the birth (perhaps the harshest emotional trauma of all).

No more self-centered wallowing?

There is a lot about becoming a dad that I’m excited about. I’m looking forward to reading stories, spending time, maybe coaching a sport they play in. I have no problems with the diapers, the mess, the fuss, or any of the unexpected things.

But one thing does scare the hell out of me. And it is that I’m no longer the center of my universe. I’m making this lifetime commitment to be responsible for the well-being of another person, in particular for the first 18 years or so of their life.

And somedays I like to wallow in my own pity party.

Maybe it will be good for me.

And if you think your life sucks, and you’ve had a bad week, read this article.

Color Me Depressed

I’m totally down today. I did manage to drag myself out of bed to go running this morning. But that’s about it.

I have absolutely no idea what I’ doing with my life and it all feels wrong.