Thaw

My blog brain got left in a textbook somewhere in Fall 2013 semester. I found it today, but it is a little dilapidated. I'm trying to reform it from structured to creative, but rigor has set in inhibiting its malleability. Spring semester rumbles in about three weeks. I best find a softening agent for this numb mind of mine.

Right now I am sitting on my couch. I am cozied in a blanket with my boy dog at my feet. There is tea steeping, my favorite kind, which is Earl Grey. The tastebuds on my tongue find it tantalizing. This sounds glorious, but truthfully I am waiting for the snowplow to clear the street I live on and make a fucking nightmare out of the end of my driveway. Mmmm. The tea tastes really good and the snow is actually really pretty.

So my blog has been frozen for the better portion of five months. Something about college and work and house repairs and child rearing and lack of time. I don't know. I was present. My blog was not. It should have been pulling its feed from my brain. That's a really shitty user experience, Blogger. Really shitty.

But let's not dwell on the past five months and just know there were some things about college and work and house repairs and child rearing and lack of time. I'd rather focus on more compelling news like gay marriage progress and yada, yada, yada, this little gay girl is engaged and is going to be in full on "lipstick lesbian" style next October. No thanks to you, Wisconsin.

Luckily, my partner of ten years, my bride to be, has relatives in friendly Minnesota, one of the seventeen states that has legalized gay marriage. We will head there for a very small ceremony and top it off by a slightly larger reception here at home.

Besides the obvious excitement of a marriage I've waited so long for, I'm equally as excited to work with vendors that have been and are a continued voice for equality. We've yet to iron out some of the details, but reception location and photographer have been selected. Oooooooo! I could burst!

Tomorrow work beckons. The office will be still as people are out for the holidays. The quietness will be welcoming, that is if I can get out of my driveway. The damn snowplow has yet to clear my street and I am heading to bed. I will see what kind of goodness it left me in the morning.

Don't Give me Tin

Tonight I am washing my ears with Mary Lambert. You know her. She's the pretty, red-haired femme from Seattle. The one that belts the chorus to Macklemore and Ryan Lewis's Same Love. Her. Her lyrics slice through my skin like a knife. They're raw.

I haven't touched this blog in well over a month and not because I haven't wanted to. I miss it. I long for it. It's my therapy, but with school and uninvited home repairs it has been a distant friend. I miss you, friend. I'm glad I found you tonight.

So tonight I sit here doing my homework. I have two finals papers to prepare for next week. I thought Mary would sing me through them. Instead she sang me right to my blog. Thank you, Mary. Nothing like distracting a girl.

I'm here and so much has happened in the last month and a half. My son turned one, started walking, and began destroying the house. My daughter is four, but has accelerated to the level one swimmers. For the first time ever, she is the smallest in her class. My kids are growing leaps and bounds. I can't keep up with it. It's daily, this growth. I can't imagine missing a day or a week or month or more of that growth. My Sara is well into her RN position and she loves it. Not only does she love it, but she excels at it. And me? Well, I'm just humming along through school and working and trying to hold it together. Here I am wishing I was okay at mediocrity. It would make the tasks at hand much easier to tend. I would maybe have chance to breathe.

The deepest breath I've taken in the longest while was just last Thursday. Sara and I celebrated our ten year anniversary. Ten. Whole. Years. Do we have to start over with the counting when we get married? That just seems cruel. Anyway, I came home from work last Wednesday. I was planning a candle lit dinner on the front porch for the two of us. We would indulge in some sushi and a nice red wine. She would be surprised to find out I took Thursday off to spend with her and the kids. It was going to be lovely. Was...

There was no candle lit dinner. There was wine. There was homemade bean tacos. They were excellent. It was nice. Our porch was in the process of being repaired and wasn't quite finished. Plus it was a bit chilly, so that kind of put the kibosh on the whole thing. Meh. It's alright. We had really good wine, and really good tacos, and really good company of each other and my sister. It was nice.

So Thursday rolls around and, truthfully, ends up being a huge pile of shit. I wish there was a more tactful way of saying it. There isn't. The porch guys finished up the porch. No more dry rot. People can now stand on it without the fear of dying. Buuuuut, our main sewer pipe began leaking. Not only is it leaking, but it is leaking from the second floor bathroom. Fucking nasty. Annnnd, not only is that main pipe leaking (which we temporarily fixed by not using that toilet), but both bathrooms had the shittiest tile work ever done on them and it is all cracking. In short, both bathrooms need to be gutted and redone and perhaps we may cut open the kitchen ceiling again to fix some more plumbing.

I resolved Thursday afternoon to the couch crying and trying with all my might to get the numbers to work in my head. Sara showered while I did this. When she finished she arrived back out in jogging shorts and a shelf-bra tank top. She was wearing make-up. When I asked her why she was wearing make-up, she told me it was because she wanted to look beautiful. I don't think that woman knows how beautiful she looks every single day to me. She told me, practically begged me, to go shower. Reluctantly, I did. I didn't want to though. My wallowing was comfortable to me.

I showered. As I was toweling off, I hear Sara outside the door. She tells me she has to go pick up my sister. What the hell? My sister, who has been staying with us, was downtown with a friend. Perhaps they got in a fight? Sara told me she was taking Kaz and bolted. I exit the bathroom and see my sister's friend in the kitchen holding Kaz. Apparently there was a baby hand-off at some point. There I was, in all my glory, my hair still dripping wet and my towel barely hugging my body. I asked him (my sister's friend) what was going on. He shooed me upstairs instead. I suppose it would be more comfortable for him to explain if I had clothes on.

I entered my bedroom. On the floor were two packages and my cell phone. Still buck ass naked I dropped my towel and phoned my wife. I ask her what is going on and she prompts me to open the packages. I oblige. The first contained a short, but elegant black dress. I saw the dress at a store recently and fell madly in love with it. There was a note with the dress that said to put it on and proceed to the next package. I did, still on the phone, and now holding back tears.

The second package contained a pair of sandals. They could be elegant or casual. That night, they were to be elegant. There was a note with these too. It said to put them on, leave our babies with my sister and her friend, and meet her (my wife) downtown. I had hung up the phone by now and was scurrying to the bathroom to slap on some make-up and perfume. Good thing I shaved my legs when I showered.

I drove downtown, a measly ten blocks away, and met my wife. At some point she managed to get all dolled up herself. I later learned she did this in her vehicle somewhere on the college campus. I don't know why I find the image of that fiasco sexy, but I do. I definitely do.

She took me to Cena. We had a table for two in the back. She took me out for a nice elegant dinner and a shared pitcher of sangria after a terribly shitty day. She took the day and wiped it clean. She made me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet. She made me forget our disasters. She executed just what I tried to execute the night before. She followed up dinner with dessert at the martini bar. She made sure I was the center of the world. I made sure she knew she was and always will be the center of mine. It was lovely. Happy ten years, beauty. You still make my heart burst.

Tonight I'm listening to Mary Lambert. She sang me right to this blog. I ought to listen to her more often, but tonight I best be getting back to my homework.

Everything in Nothingness

My mind is numb. It is thoughtless and bored and happy and nothing. There is emptiness in my mind and I love it. The semester is done and my tired brain will have two weeks to "rest" before the summer term begins. Nothing is going to ruin those two weeks. They're mine and they're filled with everything non-school and they're wonderful.

The week days start out early. There's exercise in the morning, packing of lunches, baby yawns, and dragon breath. Some days, if Sara has to work, I greet the nanny. She is always eager to hug my babies and that makes me smile. These two weeks I head to work relaxed. I love my career and these two weeks I know I will leave work with nothing else to do but love on my family. I feel calm. My mind isn't crowded now, and I remember the things it use to have space for like enjoying the scent of the coffee that sneaks its way out of my to-go cup and teases my nose.

I don't have to do homework during my lunch hour over the course of the next two weeks. I can eat and take a walk. I can chat with my friends or embrace forty-five minutes of solace. I. Don't. Care. I have nothing to do but not think. I sing more than usual at my desk during these two weeks and I'm not sure if it annoys my co-workers. I'm not sure that I even care if it does. I have room in my noggin for more songs than usual and intend to take full advantage of it. There will be melodies from Elbow and Daughter and tunes from Cake and Yellow Ostrich. I might dance while I sing, but it would be nothing more than an office chair jig.

At quarter after four my work day winds down. The weather is nice this time of year and I'm not lugging around any school books. It is only my lunch sack and purse and phone and keys that meander to the parking lot with me. I feel light. Out of principle, over the next two weeks, I won't carry a single book. Not even for leisure. It would remind me too much of school. I'll have none of that. It would be bad for my psyche.

When I arrive home, it's to happy kids. They're playing outside or inside. If it's a nanny day, I get the skinny on the day's events as she packs up her things to go. The kids, Graisyn mostly, don't want her to leave and I try to soften that blow with the promise of more outside time or a show or some snuggles. She's a new nanny and I'm already becoming second best in the eyes of my babies. I think that would bother most people, but not me. I would much rather have them elated by their caretaker than crying every time I leave the house.

So the kids and the dogs and Sara (if she's home) and I go for a walk. It's a short loop, maybe half a mile, but it's the most brilliant loop that I've ever walked and it reminds me how much I love our neighborhood. We leave the house, each dog leashed, Kaz in the stroller, and the rest of us on foot. We take a left. Sometimes, to change it up a bit, we take a right. Going in reverse is cool, but only if it's spontaneous and infrequent. My mind is blank with occasional thoughts of "how much I love my kids" or "what to have for dinner" or "how nice I have it" passing through.

We take a right at the end of our block and mosey down the street and over the bridge. This bridge looks over the park and, beyond the park, the river. The view is magnificent and it puts into perspective the grander things in life. A little further down and we hang another right. If you recall, it's a loop. All of our turns are right except the first one or if we had gone in reverse. This right takes us down a big hill, the kind you would shift a car to neutral and coast down if you were driving. This hill leads us to the base of the park and the river. My babies are in love with the park. I am in love with the river. There are pelicans on the river and geese and ducks. The pelicans are my favorite. I am in awe at how majestic they are.

Down past the river and the park we hang another right. We had just descended down a hill of healthy stature, so an upward hike is in our midst. We embrace it. Knowing that Grai's legs tire quickly on this hill, I challenge her to a race. Whoever gets to the top first wins. She smokes me every time and stands at the top panting while waiting for me to catch up. I finally reach the top and we continue on down the street until we turn right once more. Home. My mind is smiling. I'm smiling. I'm fully enjoying every ounce of my family and my surroundings and it is all uninterrupted.

Upon our return home, there is dinner to be had. We nibble on good things at our house, but if we feel lazy we might just have cereal. After dinner, it may be a bath night for the kiddos or Grai would select a thirty minute show of choice. Kaz is usually pretty restless by now so he is changed, bottled, snuggled, and tucked in. He loves his bed and wants nothing to do with being rocked for even a second after his bottle is complete. I don't like it, but I respect it. In to bed he goes just in time for Grai's show to be done and for it to be her turn for bed. 

I hear her trudge up the stairs. She's tired from the day, but she won't admit it. We scrub her teeth, grab some books, and pile into her bed. Once stories are complete, we relish in a few minutes of cuddle time and talk about our favorite parts of the day. I get the same response from Grai each time I ask her what she liked best about the day. "Coloring," she tells me. I think she's sick of the question or she really does love to color that much. We leave her room with hugs and kisses and "lights out when the big hand of the clock is on the 9" or 10 or whatever fifteen minutes looks like that night.

Usually, once the kids are in bed, I would hit the books, but not in these two weeks. In these two weeks I find my wife again or I find her more than normal. For those of you that can't read between the lines, I am definitely talking about our sex life. It is pretty healthy most of the time, but amplified when school isn't blocking everything fun and romantic. I love it. It is gratifying and refreshing and beautiful. With Sara, in these two weeks, I can rot my mind with television or play a game or sit next to her as I write a blog. It is heaven and my mind is free.

I will enjoy every iota of my time away from school. I will not take it for granted. I will remember during the course of the next two weeks that there is so much more to life than school and that it is all sitting right in front of me. My mind is simple right now, filled with nothing but the sweetness of summer, happy children and puppies, and a beautiful wife. I sigh and the stress from semesters past melt away. Tonight's toast is to an empty head. Cheers.

Breaking up is Hard to do

I don't give a shit if Allstate sues me for the title of this blog.

Tonight I will brief you on child care. I am picky. Sara is picky. And we should be. Everyone that has a child that needs child care should be. If there is one thing we should get right in this life it is the selection of the person who will care for our children if it isn't ourselves.

Sara and I got lucky the first go around. Sara was researching cloth diapers and came across a little in-home care center right around the corner from our house. We ended up choosing her. She stuck. Did we pick her or did she pick us? I don't even know, but I do know that she was one of the best things to happen to us and our daughter and our son.

Given that many children spend the better part of their waking time away from their parents, and that this was definitely the case for our two hooligans, I don't have a problem admitting that our provider did the better part of the raising. We supported her in this effort just as much as she supported us. We did our best to be consistent with things like nap times and meal times. And she followed suit with our standards of discipline. It was a joint effort and an effort that went relatively seamlessly for the better part of four and a half years.

But time happened and somehow we have a daughter that will be starting 4K this fall.  We need transportation for her to and from the 4K site. Transportation isn't something our current provider does and I don't blame her one bit. It's expensive to haul a bunch of juveniles around. I know. I work in insurance. Let's not even begin on the liability that would be involved. Certain safety features. Harnesses. Car seats. It's craziness. I used to ride in the front seat before I could even see over the dashboard. Laws Shmaws.

The looming schedule of 4K and Sara's less demanding hours required a different need of child care for our family. We needed to find someone who could do part time, be the chauffeur for 4K and swimming lessons, and provide a similar (ideally the same) level of love, nurturing, support, and discipline our babes were receiving with their current teacher. 

Sara did all of the leg work for this nanny thing. I was uninvolved until it came time to meet the candidates. She signed us up for this nifty nanny Web site, Care.com and reached out to at least a million people. (Okay, closer to 70).

We chatted with a few that could undoubtedly get the job done, but we needed more. There were shoes that needed to be filled. Then we found someone, a nanny I mean. She was young and responsible and a step ahead of me even. I fell in love with her. More importantly the most critical judge of all, Graisyn, fell in love with her.

It was heartbreaking and defeating when her fiance killed the deal. He wanted her to move to DePere and get rid of her vehicle so they could save money. I guess they want to get married and start a life or something. Jesus. Weddings are expensive. When the gays can get married I'll bet they throw all wedding related stuff on sale. It would be like Kohl's cash. Yup. She should definitely wait.

But she's in love, so she didn't wait. Instead, she politely declined our job offer so we sought other options. We looked some more and didn't find anyone worthy. I told Sara I was done and that we should wait until fall, closer to when school actually starts. She agreed reluctantly because neither one of us is a last minute person. We like the idea of proactivity.

I learned Sara was continuing the search under the radar when she called me at work to inform me a potential candidate was meeting us at the house promptly around the time I was to arrive home. I was not pleased and I was less pleased after I met the individual. She was an older woman (not that I'm age discriminating) who had little to zilch experience with child care. She did raise two of her own, but they had long since left the nest. I'm sure I quit listening when she asked if the kids needed to be supervised outside because I suppose it isn't obvious that a four year-old and an eleven month-old require pretty constant supervision. Needless to say, she didn't work out and it was very awkward the following Sunday when I saw her at Woodman's. #duckandrun.

Once more I pressured Sara to wait. Once more she agreed, but I should have known better. Secretly, she was corresponding with yet another nanny wanna-be. This nanny was the one though. She asked oodles of questions. Oodles. And this was before even meeting her. She came over for the first introduction and she engaged both children. Graisyn talked to her, something she'd only done with the long lost nanny stolen away by fiancé guy. Post meeting, she emailed Sara with more questions. She was engaging and the questions she asked showed the general care and concern she had for children. She seemed delightful.

Even in finding a teacher and nurturer that we're sure would be a good match for our children, the ultimate decision to take them away from their place of comfort and contentment was grueling. I've often wondered if I'm just dramatic about decisions like this or if other parents experience similar emotions. Still, past all the emotions, we knew our current provider would understand the need for change. We knew it would be hard for her too, but she would get it. She would squeeze her babies on their last day and send them on their way. And I know she will be hoping just as much as we are that this new person taking over her role demonstrates just as much love and care and concern for Grai and Kaz as she did. God willing.

Play Games With Me

The world had presented me with a smorgasbord of little life scenarios as of late. I have thoughts and opinions about all of them. Around me, there is new life. This life is new to me and new to the world. There is lost life, and this life is new to another world. I learned of the saddest story of a family that could not wrap their arms around their son because of his sexuality. I have been let down by people that could not, for this or for that, hold true to their commitments. I have opinions about all of it. Every single bit of it. I could tell you how I feel about new life and lost life. My ramblings about homophobia could be endless. And disappointment? I could rant about constant dialog and continual discussion that turns into nothing more than, well, nothing. I won't though. I will keep all of my thoughts and opinions to myself. I'm quite good at it actually. Tonight, we are talking about Candy Land.

Graisyn Quinn is four now. She is every bit of four and sometimes older. She's witty and crass, while hysterical and opinionated. She's a lot like me, but amplified. My persistent little queeny is the perfect person to whoop her opponent's ass at Candy Land, or Chutes and Ladders, or The Lady Bug Game. But remember, tonight we are talking about Candy Land.

We've been trying to teach Graisyn the importance of playing fairly. In this venture, I am learning that there are a lot of approaches to molding this character in a spirited child. For example, Graisyn will knowingly cheat. I HATE cheating. I simply loathe it. While there are others that will allow her to cheat because she is "only" four, I will not. I give her one reminder followed promptly by the stink eye. If any further violations occur I close up shop. For me it is not a matter of following the rules. Sometimes rules are meant to be challenged. For me it is a matter of honesty. I know she's only four, but I've got news for all readers who are rolling their eyes at this very moment. The girl does not cheat when she plays with me. She doesn't even attempt it. 

So the other day Grai and I decided to crank out a quick game of Candy Land prior to my leaving for work. I shuffled the cards and picked the yellow pawn. Grai opened up the board and selected the blue pawn. We were off. I selected the ice cream cone card, which put me immediately near the finish line. Two minutes in and I won the game. It was uneventful. I didn't say much about winning and Grai was fine with losing. 

Round two. This round lasted for several minutes. My pawn passed up Grai's on the game board. Hers passed up mine. It was competitive, but fun. She was laughing and mildly taunting me as she neared the finish line. She was certain the win would be hers. I thought she was going to burst with excitement. There's just something about victory I think.

Graisyn did win that round. I lost just as gracefully as she did after losing the first round. She won in such a strange way though. I've been thinking about it ever since.

"Good game, Grai! You won this one."

"I know," she replied and grabbed my hand, "Good game, good game, good game." 

"What?"

"I told you it was a good game."

"Why yes it was," I said.

My daughter has learned how to win and do it graciously. She can lose without throwing a fit or being sour. She has replaced her excitement of cheating with enthusiasm for the game. She is growing up. Before I know it she will be starting school. She will need to know how to win and how to lose. She will thrive if she can conduct herself with honesty and integrity. What better way to learn these basic life lessons than through a game. 

"Now go get the game, ya little shit! Mommy is gonna whoop your butt this time!" 

I'm kidding. Geez.

Read me a Story - First buy me the Book

You see, there are all these social media outlets that I have been using to vomit information on my newly released book. Problem is, not all of my readers follow me on those outlets and I figure everyone needs a chance to know that the book is now available for purchase. Check it out:

Buy on Amazon:

Buy on Barnes & Noble:

Thank you, my readers, for your support. Happy reading!

Stranger

This blog is becoming a stranger to me. The once intimate relationship we shared is fading away. Stop, my stable friend. Don't go. My absence is not in vain. I have been sharing my words with another soul. It is shameful, but it is true. I have left you, my lusterous screen of white, for school.

Oh barf. I am not that sappy. Nor am I that poetic. It is true though. School has become all consuming. It has sucked away any pre-sleepy time freedom I had. In fact as I type this now, I can hear Psych beckoning me. Shut up, I tell you. Shut up! I am at one with my blog. The academic voices will not be silenced. Somebody save me.

In more recent news, I am an emerging author. I am anxiously awaiting receipt of my first children's book, Abbott McAbbott McHumprey McGee. The publishing of this book was nearly a two year process for me. It was a self-study process too. I figured out on my own how to get published...

Train of thought "rudely" interrupted by a sneak attack kiss from my wife.

Ah, yes. To get published, I walked my happy ass down to the local library and check out as many children's books as my arms would carry. My little girl is especially fond of reading, so the oodles of books spilling from my arms was a plus for her too. The name of a publisher is printed in each book. I literally Googled the names of each publisher to see how they accepted work. Most, I would say 98%, require that you work with a publishing manager. I did not have the time or the money for that, so all of those were out.

Before I began to feel defeated and shove my dream of being published under the rug, I stumbled upon a small publishing company. The company I selected works through publishing agreements, not full-blown contracts. This provides opportunity for the author to be picked up by a larger publisher. Wanna know the other added bonus? This publisher is practically in my backyard. That's right. They are planted in Milwaukee, WI. Something about that just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Warm and fuzzy.

So I submitted the written portion of the book to Mirror Publishing and they bit. They liked the storyline. Great! Then they wanted to know about the artwork. The artwork? Huh? I can draw and I can paint, but I didn't have time for it. I inquired about having someone do the art for me, but they cautioned that it would be costly. Ugh. Fine then. I'll do it myself. And I did.

I opted to use photos for the pages in the book. I used a photo editing app that was pretty amateur and, while I don't regret it, I'm not sure I'll ever use photos again. My vision was not met on the pages. The edited photos do make the story interactive though. They also allow readers to see the life of the real Abbott. I suppose in that respect, justice was served then.

Once the written material and artwork was submitted and approved, the waiting began. I waited for e-proofs. Then I waited again for the physical proof. Now I'm waiting for the first batch of books. One hundred of these puppies will arrive to my front door. It is with these that I will start getting my name out. They will be used for book signings. That's right, this little introvert will be sitting in front of a bunch of squealing boogers at local coffee shops, the library, and wherever else I can get into to read and hopefully sell some books. I'm nervous. Okay, I'm excited too.

I am most hopeful about my future as an author. I don't expect it will put food on my table, but it will be, at minimum, a hobby for me. It will be a way for me to share my writing with the world. It will be a way for me to demonstrate my talents as an artist. I have two more books in the pipeline, and I'm learning Adobe CS6. This is dangerous, people. Dangerous. Watch out.

Goodnight, sweet blog of mine. Words never looked so good on you.

Nearly Three Decades

Next week I am going to be twenty-nine years old. Twenty-nine. I've spent the last week or so reflecting, in what little time I have to reflect, on my life as a twenty-something. There has been nearly nine years of this life, and I don't think a single year of it was calm. It hasn't been a bad ride, but I would definitely say it's been comparable to a bustle through a big city.

1. I moved from Kaukauna to Neenah with the love of my life. We moved into a duplex in what I would refer to as the ghetto. If Neenah actually has a parcel of land that would meet the definition of a ghetto, this was it. We made it out alive and even got to witness a major drug bust. I would classify this as momentous. Don't do drugs.

2. I bought a puppy. Her name is Lexi. She will be nine in July and is just as much of a pain in the ass as the day we brought her home. Damn dog.

3. I changed positions at work (four times actually in my 9+ year tenure). I anticipated being bored after five or six years, but I decided I really liked the company and stayed. They like me too...I think.

4. I met and cared for an old lady in our little Neenah hood. She liked chocolate and puzzles, but more chocolate than puzzles. That woman could pack more chocolate in her face than anyone I know and all the while she was consuming it would bitch about getting diabetes. "You're too old for that shit," I'd tell her. She'd eat more chocolate. God rest rest her crazy soul.

5. Neenah sucked. At least where we lived did. We moved to Appleton where I (we) purchased our first home. We had awesome neighbors. We drank a fair amount. We loved life. We'll never buy a fixer upper again. Word of advise (from my father in-law), "If it has a VIN or an address, it will ALWAYS cost you money." I don't know if I have it verbatim, but it was something like that. He could not be more right. He's actually always right.

6. I got pregnant. No, it was not an accident. I'm gay, for those of you that don't know. That shit was accomplished turkey-baster style.

7. I gave birth and then adopted my own daughter. If it sounds fucked up, it is. If you want to the story, start at the beginning of this blog.

8. My partner made a career change. I supported her hind end through school. She owes me big time. That's why she's supporting me through school now. Ugh.

9. My partner got knocked up. Better her than me this time. She was lucky enough to not puke her brains out the entire time. She gave birth. It was nuts. I have son.

10. I adopted my son. I know more about Wisconsin adoption laws than I care to. How many twenty-somethings can say that?

11. I wrote a book. It's a children's book, but it's still a book. It will be published this year. Then I will write more and I will publish more. You all will like, buy, and read.

12. I earned a promotion at work. I earned this promotion after passing it up the first time it was posted because I told myself I was uneducated. Other people told me I was uneducated. I am NOT uneducated. I am self-educated. I am getting my institutionalized education, but damn it, I have built a fantastic life for myself and I did not do it on stupidity. I did it on strength, intelligence, and determination.

13. I sold my first house and bought a second house. I do not know many of the neighbors, but I do know I love the neighborhood. I love the granola-ish vibe it throws. I love the trees and the parks that it is close to. I miss the old neighbors, but we aren't that far away. There are probably a lot of Subaru cars here.

14. I lost people I love. Let's leave it at that. Otherwise I will cry.

15. I'm getting educated. I attend this thing people call "higher education" nearly full time now that my partner has graduated with her R.N. And I work full time. And I'm raising a family. And I'm not sane. At least I'm bulletproof.

16. I fostered boxer dogs. I'd like to do it again when I am done with school and the kids are a bit older and the yard is fenced in. Give me five years and I'll be cleaning up shit for something I'll never own. #payingitforward.

17. I became a foster failure. I am the owner of an obnoxious, eighty pound boxer boy. I adopted him even after he destroyed our first house. He's a lucky dog. I'm a lucky girl.

18. I canceled cable. What. A. Joke. What a money suck. What a waste of time. I think I will do homework instead. Oh, kiss off! It's fun.

19. I've become annoyingly loud about gay rights. Just wait until I hit my thirties. I'll probably be louder. Perhaps, if I didn't have a family that was directly affected, I'd keep my mouth shut. See #s six and nine above. Then perhaps read the rest of this blog. Oh...and I came out.

20. I started this blog. I am madly in love with this blog. This blog allows me to be open and vulnerable. For those of you that know me personally, this is something I never am.

I did not do all of these things alone. I did them with my partner, my wife, Sara. I am proud of my accomplishments and of the life I, we, have built. I have one more year left in my twenties. My gut says I'll be spending it being schooled by those that "know better than me." Guess I better buckle up.