When I go MIA, it usually means things are good.

I'm asking you, dear readers, to believe most of this blog's title. For the most part, things are good. I'm on a brief respite from work to get my health stuff in line, I have the great benefit of a kick ass and aggressive allergist championing my cause, the hives are slowly going away and staying there, I'm not allergic to anti-histamines after all (1), I haven't had a tomato or tomato by-product in almost two weeks (2), I've celebrated so many birthdays in the past month that I'm considering wearing a party hat from March clear through to May every year (3), I haven't seen my BFF nearly as much as I should and I'm feeling a little shaky from withdrawal (4), I'm dealing fiercely and ferociously with some assholish folks who just can't comprehend the fact that no one can tell me what to do (5), I had a little tiff with my Mom but otherwise Family Land is splendid and incredibly supportive, I finally cleaned the apartment ALMOST to my strict specifications, I initiated Popsicle Season with some good ol' fashioned Kool Aid tropical punch pops (6), I'm in love more than always/more than ever with the best guy a gal like me could have asked for (7), I'm reigniting old friendship flames here and there and enjoying it immensely, I'm contemplating a career change, I'm listening to the Indigo Girls again, I'll probably eat some couscous this week which is tres exciting, I got some blond[e] highlights from the most awesomest hairstylist in B'more and now I kind of have a highlightery-Vitamin C (the singer, yes) look going on (8), I'm addicted [even more so] to trashy magazines AND I finally subscribed to a new cooking magazine (Bon Apetit, son!), David Blaine terrifies me, and I'm still in my pajamas.

Please see the footnotes from the longest sentence above...below:

1. Xyzal - God's gift to anti-histamines.


















2. OMG I miss them so much. I hope I'm not allergic to the sweet fruit of summer.








3. This is me, Jack and Ed in Cambridge, MD (on the shore, hon) attempting to sing a drunken Happy Birthday. It looks like I'm choking on a party horn.













4. Go read her blog. She's the snazziest.

5. I hate to reuse it, but whatevs.












6. Grape is quite delicious as well. Pick up a kick ass popsicle maker at your local IKEA.



















7. Isn't he the most handsome!?





















8. See what I mean? Please excuse the evil glare.

Look Ma! I'm famous!

There's a new blog I've been frequenting lately, and I felt inspired to submit a post about something that's been on my mind (and not on paper) for years. So I typed my little love story up, submitted it to The New Gay blog and now I'm published! Go me.

Head on over and read my love story. And if you need Kleenex, I suggest you get some in advance. Click here or on the image:


Yes. I love a bar. My family is so proud.

Family Values - or - How I continue to hate the conservative press.

I just told my partner to stop reading or watching anything related to the Thomas Beatie story, because it's tragic, painful and full of inaccuracies pushed forth by a conservative agenda. The lengths to which people will go to share their unsolicited opinions brings me close to tears, especially in the case of a man who is pregnant. The concept of a man, trans or not, being pregnant isn't new to our culture. We've been toying with the idea for years. I mean, I can remember as a TEN YEAR OLD CHILD watching Fox's show Alien Nation and accepting with great realism and understanding the fact that the "male" character was responsible for bringing the fetus to term. Am I the only person in the world who grew up under rather conservative conditions that is still ok with this reality? No.

Shit like this makes me livid. I mean, ridiculously shaking and quaking with anger. It shouldn't be legal for people to suggest on NATIONAL TELEVISION that someone's eyes should burst forth from their skull during childbirth, or that they agree with a person's fear that their child will be killed for being the product of such abnormal parents, or even that he should just go ahead and off himself. The audacity is relentless. America just doesn't know when to stop.

There are plenty of things I don't agree with and I appreciate my "right" to voice those disagreements as they arise. But that doesn't preclude me from being cautious and responsible about my feelings when I do allow them to boil up. I do not explode with bigotry and hate because I can. And that is what kills me about people's warped perceptions of American culture and civil decency. They think that because they are entitled to say something, that they should. The damage they create in the wake of their bigotry doesn't seem to be a concern, however, and neither does the reflexive consequences of such restrictive and alienating hate speech. Does it surprise anyone that there is a consistent rise in self-injurious behaviors, mental health problems, family strife and personal angst? It's because we have ripped ourselves free from the constraints of Victorian control, we've tasted sweet freedom, and then we're told by these media puppets that if we actually attempt to use the freedom we have by virtue of being human, we are somehow freaks and should die because of our "choices". Disgusting. The conservative right, including a large percentage of the Christian right, has taken it upon themselves to speak for a constituency that does not benefit from their voice. So if you identity as either, I suggest you start demanding that they make you look less like bigoted assholes and more like the loving creatures God (or whomever else) intended us to be.

They are creating the wrath that the Bible warns about, they are the end of civilization. Not freaks like Thomas, my partner or me. We're just trying to be free.

See that broom up there? I'm spring cleaning.

While I was convalescing today in my bed...waiting for my cheeks to shrink in size (from pumpkin to softball, essentially)...I looked over at my crafty storage area and lamented the fact that my jewelry just hasn't moved in months. And I haven't really been trying either. So rather than continuing to make more things that don't sell, I'm going to try to clear out my shop and focus on trying some new things BEFORE I start filling my shop with knick knacks, which is what I consider a lot of my inspirationless jewelry creations.

This is where you come in. GO BUY MY SHIT! I'm having a 50% off sale on a lot of things! Right now, 43 items are marked for quick sale. So instead of getting yourself one pair, buy two! Buy yourself something, and then one for your BFF. Get one for that nice lady in the apartment downstairs, or for the woman who works the desk at your apartment complex. Send your cousin Petunia a Happy Spring gift, or your gay brother something to wear to a party. Just do me a favor and clear me out!

Ultimately, if this stuff doesn't sell, I have some secret plans. But I'm not going to tell you what they are until some things move on out. Ready, break!

http://patchink.etsy.com

Flashback: Jesus School!

My friend Bee Listy's partner K posted this recipe recently over at LiveJournal. I had this vivid flashback to my Catholic School days and felt like it was essential for me to share the deliciousness with my readership. Consider this crescentvangelizing.

RESURRECTION ROLLS
(In the actual book, it’s got a star by it that means “fun for kids!”)

1 package crescent rolls, 8 count
Melted butter
Large marshmallows
Cinnamon
Sugar

Give each child a triangle of crescent rolls. The crescent roll represents the cloth that Jesus was wrapped in after He died and was taken from the cross.

Give each child a marshmallow. This represents Jesus and His purity.

Have each child dip the marshmallow in melted butter. This represents the oils of embalming.

Dip the buttered marshmallow in cinnamon and sugar. This represents the spices used to anoint the body of Jesus.

Bringing together all edges of the triangle, wrap the coated marshmallow tightly inside the dough. This represents the wrapping of Jesus’ body after death.

Place rolls on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes. The oven represents the tomb. You can even let the children tape the door shut. Pretend like the 10-minute baking time is 3 days and nights, the time Jesus was in the tomb.

Once rolls are out of the oven and slightly cool, the children can open their rolls (cloths) and discover that Jesus is no longer there: He is Risen! The marshmallow melts and the crescent roll is puffed up, but like the tomb, it is empty.

I know Easter is passed and all that, but I think that God would appreciate you making Resurrection Rolls any ol' day, really.

God bless.

Beef! It's what's for dinner.

I know I'm like four months late, and that beef stew (or any stew/chili, for that matter) is not really what folks are craving now that the daffodils are blooming and the birdies are chirping and my allergies are starting to kick in. But even though you'd just as soon grill a hunk of beef over eating small tender nuggets of beef in a delectable, rich broth...I beg of you. Just make this.

My Mom passed this recipe on to me, and she originally acquired it from my Aunt. It's rich, hearty and incredibly easy. You literally throw all of the ingredients into a pot, stick it in the oven, and stir it when you get up for every other beer.

Serve it with some thick hearty slices of bread, wrap scarves around your friends' necks, and turn the AC on full blast. I would even go so far as to put a Christmas-y movie on the TV, but I am fully aware my obsession runs much deeper than most any humans out there...including God ("Not Jesus' birthday again. Didn't I just fight the lines at the Mall for him a few weeks ago? I'll just order a gift card online.").

Seriously, people, this stew does not disappoint. So here it goes:

Oven Beef Stew - (you can substitute chicken also)

2.5 lbs stew beef or sirloin
28 oz canned chopped tomatoes
1 cup celery
4 carrots
4 potatoes
3 onions
1/2 cup red wine (or, as it goes in my family, a coupla good sloshes into the pot)

3-4 tablespoons tapioca
2 beef bouillon cubes
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
pepper
1/8 teaspoon thyme ­ rosemary ­ marjoram

Bake @ 250º for 5 hours

Stir after 2 hours...or like I said, around every other slowly consumed beer.

*NOTE* - My mother has also cooked this in her crockpot and it was delectable. Just thought you should know.