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Equal Strokes for Different Folks

The year was 2004. I had just graduated from law school and was studying to take the bar.  A huge debate was raging in Utah because of the proposed Amendment 3, which would amend Utah's Constitution to define "marriage" as a "legal union between a man and a woman."  I began discussing this with my father and my sister, who had also recently graduated from law school. Both are ardent believers and active members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (you know, the Mormons).  As often occurs when I discuss issues like this with my family, I got emotional, things became heated, and angry tears were shed (mine) and eyes were rolled (my sister's). 

Deciding I couldn't talk to them any longer, I retreated to my bedroom to avoid any further conflict and to keep myself from saying something I couldn't take back.  My father and sister followed me up, however, to try to convince me that my views about this were wrong. Not because of anything in the US Constitution or case law, but because of God.  "Marriage was a holy institution," they said, "a sacred union between a man and a woman, blessed by God." 

I tried to counter their arguments with the fact that our federal constitution states that all US citizens should enjoy equal protection under the law; denying anyone equal protection based upon their sexual orientation was wrong.  It's just as wrong as denying a black man and white woman the right to marry. It's just as wrong as segregation. This isn't a religious argument, it's a constitutional argument.  I had spent three years studying law, as had my sister, and I couldn't wrap my head around anyone saying that one group of people can be denied the same rights and privileges someone else enjoys just because of who they love.  It didn't, and still doesn't, make any sense to me.

Their answer? God. God says homosexuality is wrong. God doesn't want "those people" to be married and raise children. Finally, I said there was no reason to discuss it because I wasn't going to change their minds and they weren't going to change mine.  In all my years of arguing with my family about things like this, I have come to understand that there is no convincing once God enters into the equation, and so we ended it and the subject hasn't been broached since.

It came as little surprise that Amendment 3 passed and our state constitution was amended to define marriage as something that can only be between a man and a woman. It took the further step to also outlaw "domestic unions" as well.  Way to go, Utah.  Blurgh.

It's now eight years later and the country is looking to the Supreme Court as they hear two cases about whether gay citizens of our deserve the same rights as everyone else.  Even writing that sentence strikes me as ridiculous.  Regardless of who they want to be in a relationship with, they are CITIZENS of our country. They should enjoy the same rights and privileges granted to me and my husband. There is absolutely no valid reason why they should be denied these rights!

But, GOD, Carrie. GOD. To this I say: Cut it out. God has a place in your personal beliefs that homosexuality is a sin.  God has a place in your personal beliefs that homosexual marriage is against "God's plan."  God has a place in your personal beliefs about how the world should be. God has no place in a debate about whether an entire class of people should be considered equal under the laws of the United States of America.

And if the majority of your arguments against gay marriage are based upon what you think God wants, then you don't have any real arguments against gay marriage. 

Not down with G-O-D-- No baby for you!

So, internets, during my years long down-time away from this blog, I've been trying to get pregnant in order to spread my genes out for the betterment of all society. Wait, not just me.  Joel's been trying to knock me up, as well, mainly because he knows how badly I would like a little bundle of joy. Also, he understands that the world needs us to have a baby to counterbalance all those Kardashians who have been procreating as of late.  The world, however, has obviously not received this memo because, well, my womb has remained uninhabited.

First, yes, we have done all the testing that has been suggested by various doctors. I even let someone shoot contrast all up in my bajingo to make sure everything was all clear up there. If you've never undergone this procedure, I will tell you that it was extremely invasive but excruciatingly painful (the best of both worlds!).  End result: my hoo-ha and all related machinery is in working order. From what we can tell, I'm ovulating and Joel's junk seems to be doing what it needs to do... it's just that nothing happens.

So, after a while, I thought maybe adoption would be the way to go.  After all, I am not getting any younger and I'm a bit concerned about having a geriatric pregnancy and the complications that come along with it. Read: I don't want to be on bed rest for months or get gestational diabetes or, I don't know, DIE.  That would be no bueno for me or Joel, as he insists that he would like me to be alive for a while longer.

When I started thinking about adoption, I asked a friend of mine who had recently adopted about the agency they used, because their daughter is adorable and they seemed to have nothing but good things to say about the process.  Can you guess what I found out?  Adoption is expensive, yo.  Really, I knew it would cost some money, but when I saw that it would cost almost my yearly salary to adopt through that agency, I was kind of crestfallen. We just couldn't afford it.  I want a baby, but I didn't feel comfortable going even deeper into debt than we already are.  I hope that doesn't make me sound like a complete d-bag, but it's the truth.

After looking around at other agencies, I found one I thought would work.  I read through the testimonials of families and birth mothers and they all provided glowing reviews. Then, I took the first steps of filling out an application for them to review and sat back, feeling sure that they couldn't refuse us!  We have been married for almost 6 years, we're stable, we have good jobs and no criminal history. No one was more surprised than I when I received an e-mail saying that they would not be accepting our application.  It wasn't until I re-read the information on the website that I realized that this agency was kind of... Christ-y.  The birthmothers all said they want their child to be placed in a Christian home. The adoptive parents all made sure to say that they were religious and would be raising their child in a Christian home.  When I filled out the application form, I was completely honest and said that both Joel and I were raised Mormon but neither of us practices any type of formal religion.  Unless drinking wine and watching Toddlers & Tiaras is a religion.  Then I might just be the pope, you guys.

This is the only reason I can think of that they wouldn't even consider helping us adopt and it has me kind of bewildered.  No, we won't be raising a child, whether adopted or not, in any religion, but I don't think this really has any bearing on what kind of parents we would be. Does it really matter that much?  What do you think?

Lord Loves a Working Man, Don't trust Whitey

Words to live by.

I wrote this last night after, ahem, a few glasses of wine. When I looked at it this morning I had no earthly idea what it was supposed to mean. I couldn't remember what I'd been doing and had to really sit and think about it. Then, I remembered where these words of wisdom had come from: The Jerk.

Best Birthday Dinner Ever?

I would have watched the whole thing, but our stupid Dish Network on demand stopped working, so I could only watch to the part where Navan started working at the gas station. And then I drunkenly told my husband that we we needed to get rid of Dish because GOD their on demand SUUUUUUUCKS.  And then I went to bed.

How did you spend your Martin Luther King, Jr. day?

New Year, New You? I'll settle for slightly different me.

I have decided something because I'm very decisive like that, and when I decide to do something, it almost never happens because I'm also very lazy like that. But, my dear internets, I have decided to write on this blog. I think I have been suffering from a bit of writer's block, because I have a slew of posts I have started to write and then have abandoned, not unlike a prom-night dumpster baby, because I could see they were going nowhere.

In addition to writer's block, I've been suffering from a touch of depression, which might make for a good episode of Hoarders or Intervention, but not so much a good post on the old blog. Do you really want to read a post about how I can find almost nothing to make me feel more than "meh" about anything. This is why Christmas was kind of a wash for me this year.  We didn't have a real tree and I barely even listened to Christmas music because... well, meh.

So, I will be working under the assumption that the phrase "fake it 'til you make it" is actually true and that if I just write and try to be happy that I will find the block removed and the black cloud hanging over my head just a little less black.

What do you think, my dear whoever reads this blog anymore?

One, one Socialist Agenda... ah, ah, ah.

Ok, so, politics.  I usually don't get involved in political discussions because I don't believe I have anything of substance to add to these conversations, unless you count me muttering obscenities under my breath a substantive addition to polite political discourse.  Then I'm totally into it.  Mostly, I try to steer away from politics because I have extremely different political views than most of my immediate and extended family.  It's an especially touchy subject now that Mitt Romney is involved because of the whole Mormon thing.  But there is one aspect of this election that I just find so dumbfounding that I can remain silent no longer.  That is the war on Sesame Street.

Now, I know there are people out there who have approached this subject with much more aplomb than I ever could.  I'm just not that well-spoken and most times I can't express myself with ease and confidence.  This is mainly because I am lazy and don't want to do the research to back up my opinions.  As this is the case, please excuse my following clumsy attempt to discuss this important topic.

My problem is this: Why would anyone think that Sesame Street has some kind of underlying liberal agenda to turn our nation's children into Socialists or Communists or any other -ist you can think of.  Really?  No, wait... think about it... I find it flabbergasting that people on any side of the political spectrum could honestly say that Sesame Street has any agenda other than providing education and entertainment to kids, and even adults, everywhere.

The impetus for my expressing my opinion regarding this inanity was a clip showed on the Daily Show last week (or the week before that-- I watch it on DVR and never really know when its aired).  Basically, it was a clip of Grover talking to a little girl about whether she would share her food with someone who didn't have food.  You know what she said?  She said that if someone didn't have food, she would give them food.  You heard me: she would GIVE THEM FOOD if they didn't have any. 

My problem with this is simple: Neither Grover nor this adorable little girl said anything about how the government should take care of people without food. So, how, exactly is this pushing a liberal agenda?  Isn't part of what conservatives believe is that the government shouldn't be taking care of people?  Don't they believe that non-governmental groups (churches, charities, etc) should be the ones taking care of the the less-fortunate among us?  More to the point: isn't this exactly what Jesus would do?  If Jesus happened upon someone down on their luck, wouldn't he advise that we should share what we have with those who have less than us?  Last I checked, Republicans and conservatives in general believe they are the only party down with G-O-D.  So, what's the problem?

Yes, I'm sure there could be some examples of Sesame Street "shoving a liberal agenda down our throats," but I just don't see it.  Aside from teaching kids how to count, read, eat a healthy diet, and try to act normally while talking to a giant yellow bird, Sesame Street also teaches kids how to be kind, how to be accepting of others who are different than we are, that we should try to get along with people without resorting to violence.  To me, these are neither liberal or conservative values, but American values, ones which people all along the political spectrum would be wise to adopt for themselves.

Not to be a Debbie Downer

Since my last post was somewhat of a buzzkill, here are some pictures of my dogs:

Buster is so interested in what's happening outside because there is SO MUCH to bark about!

I mean, there are people pushing strollers and other dog-like creatures that need to know Buster is watching them and he isn't messing around, people.

This makes Nucky look far more regal than he actually is. He spends most of the time with his nose in Buster's crotch to see what might be happening up in there. (Note: Absolutely nothing ever happens in Buster's crotch.)

This is not a dog, nor is it my cat, but have you ever seen anything so cute as this in your life? I think not.

2012: The Year That I Fell Apart.

Over the past year and a half, I have had so many people ask me why I've stopped blogging.  (Ed. note: really, it's just been like 3 people who have asked me, like, two times each.)  Well, the biggest factor in my not blogging is laziness.  I'm not ashamed to say that I'm a fairly lazy person.  I know this. My husband definitely knows this.  Do I get up and go to work every morning?  Yes.  Do I wear clothes that actually require both buttons AND zippers?  Mostly.  When I get home from work, do I put on my pajamas and watch television until it's time to go to bed?  No... well, not all the time.  It depends upon what time I get home, really.  (Let's take last week as an example: Wednesday, I got home at around 4:45 p.m. and put on a comfy skort until it was time to put on the jam-jams.  Thursday: I got home at around 8:00 p.m. and I put on my pajamas immediately upon walking through the door.)  So, we've established that I'm one lazy mother-trucker.

Secondly, this past year has been one of great upheaval in my life.  I moved to a new firm with two of the partners from my previous firm. This has been a good move-- no, this has been an AMAZING move, one which has increased my quality of life and work.  However, this also has meant a lot of energy-sucking drama (at the beginning) and I'm just getting to the point where I'm comfortable  writing about it for all the world to see.  Perhaps this will be a topic of another blog.

Additionally, in 2012 I have noticed that I am completely falling apart physically and, somewhat, mentally.  In early February I had a grand-mal seizure out of the blue. I was at work, walking back to my office from the bathroom and the next thing I know, I'm being roused by paramedics asking me if I can tell them my name, who the president is, what day it is. The most frightening thing about this was, that while I was lying on the floor in front of the chiropractor's office down the hall from my office, I couldn't answer any of those questions; in fact, I couldn't say anything at all for about five minutes.  My brain had just completely re-booted and I was unable to do anything except try to grasp the fact that, no, it wasn't a dream and I was really in an ambulance on my way to the ER.

Now, seven months and numerous tests later, I can answer all the questions posed by the paramedics that day, but I can't tell you why I had a seizure, because we don't know. All of my tests came back normal and it was just a random, and hopefully isolated, event.

After the seizure, most of my medications were switched around, and I found myself having actual, albeit passive, suicidal thoughts. Mostly, these came in the form of feeling like I wouldn't have cared if I had been hit by a bus and was actually hoping that something horrible like that would happen to me. I knew these were not rational thoughts and, knowing this, I immediately talked to my doctor and started seeing a therapist to discuss why I would be thinking that the world would be a better place if I were not in it.  For the most part, these feelings are under control and I'm happy to be where I am and doing what I'm doing, and I try to concentrate on that instead of wishing that I could just be done with everything.

Then, in June, I began having horrible abdominal pain and wound up in the ER twice in one week. After more testing, I was told that my gallbladder had gone rogue and would need to be removed.  So, I underwent a laprascopic cholecystectomy in July.  The worst thing about this is they wouldn't let me keep my gallbladder nor any of the pesky stones that were causing all of my problems.  When I asked why I couldn't keep it, I was told that they used to let people do it, but after someone came down with salmonella after playing with their stones, they don't really do that anymore.  Thanks for ruining it for the rest of us, jerks!  I've recovered very well from the surgery and I am free now to eat all the fatty, greasy foods I want.

After my seizure and surgery, I slacked off on my exercise routine.  Prior to all of this, I would take my two dogs for a 2.6 mile walk nearly every morning.  I was feeling and looking great!  But now, every time I try to walk, my back went numb and my left leg would play dead. After an MRI, I found out that I have a bulging disc in my back. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things, because I actually really enjoyed fitting into my clothes, but it's been difficult.  Actually, I've completely lost all motivation to do anything remotely healthy.

So, now you're all caught up on my year of living dangerously.  It has been a roller-coaster ride, for sure, but things seem to be calming down on all fronts and I really do want to start blogging regularly again, hopefully about more entertaining topics, such as a trip that Joel and I are taking to Los Angeles next week to watch the University of Utah take on UCLA in what will undoubtedly be a football game.  Since I don't know much about football, that's all I can say about it.  Go Utes!

April showers bring... more May showers, apparently.

So, a lot has happened in the past few weeks.  Some happy, some sad, some irritating, some mind-numbingly boring. I will try to put everything down here, so you can also have some mind-numbingly boring stuff happen to you, as well.

First, as the title of this post implies, it has been raining here like a cow pissing on a rock (to borrow a phrase from an ex-boyfriend, who was describing the weather in San Francisco right after he moved there).  Usually, by this time in May, we have our garden planted and are able to spend some time on our patio enjoying the beautiful weather.  This year, however, we'll have maybe one or two days where it's not 46 degrees and raining.  Why?!  What in the name of Al Gore have I done to you, Planet Earth!  (Besides driving a gas guzzling SUV to drive 2 miles to work and also stop recycling my glass because they moved the bins so now they're more than 1/2 block away)?  Cut it out, right now!

Secondly, we had to put Lucy down.  That's still kind of hard for me to talk about, so I'm just going to say I'll write an entire post about it later and we'll call it good for now.  Aight?

Third, I turned thirty-fucking-six last week.  How?  Why?  Whaaaa happened?  For my birthday present, Joel got me a Dyson cordless stick-vac.  I'm not ashamed to say that the first night we met, I brought it home and made sweet, sweet love to it and it's many attachments.  Ok, not really, but we totally tongue-kissed.  I cannot stress to you how much I love this vacuum, you guys.  There are no words to express my deep and abiding love for it.  One of my favorite parts is when I'm using it and the dogs get all worked up and start attacking it.  That is a pretty goddamn awesome side benefit.

Last night we had a dinner for a project I've been working on for the Women Lawyers of Utah.  It all came off very well and I think I need to write a more specific post about this, too.  It was a huge project, for which I was mainly in charge of merging letters and envelopes because I have mad MS-Word skillz, gained from my illustrious career as a secretary in my early 20s.  I also made nametags, again, because I know how to enter the right Avery label number in the label program. 

Funny story about that, though, I was trying to figure out how to print the text over a jpeg in each label and I finally did it, but put the computer away because it was kind of late.  Turns out, you probably won't remember much about how to do shit like that when you're a little tipsy, so you'll have to figure it out all over again the next morning.  Did I say that story was funny?  I meant "extremely dull."  Sorry, I always get those two things confused.

Until next time, dear reader, when I shall again regale you with delightful anecdotes from my very exciting and action-packed life... who am I kidding, I'm probably going to write about poop. 

Guess What?

Chicken butt.  Ha!  Gotcha!

So, recently, I've discovered a new potato snack that is tasty AND "healthy."  I actually am unaware of any health benefits related to eating any kind of potato product, so I can't actually say they are good for you.  However, an entire bag of these things is only 360 calories.  That means you can eat an entire bag for dinner and not feel guilty about it!  You might feel guilty that you're a grown-up person eating a bag of snack chips for dinner, but at least you won't be a fat grown-up person eating an entire bag of snack chips for dinner.  Ok, here's the big reveal.  Behold, the glory that is popchips:

 
I just licked my computer screen.  Don't judge me.

You guys!  Serious.  These are awesome and if you are not eating them on a regular basis, you should be ashamed of yourselves.  If only I had known about these last week when I went to Las Vegas and bought a bag of vanilla/caramel roasted almonds to snack on, and then proceeded to eat the entire bag, which contained over 900 calories, while sitting in my rental car waiting for my hearing to start.  If you're going to just sit in a car and absentmindedly stuff snack food in your gaping maw, better it be something that won't make it impossible for you to fit in the airplane seat on the way home, no?

If you are in the Salt Lake area and want to pick some of this manna from heaven for yourself, I have only found them at the Smith's Marketplace downtown and the Smith's grocery on 8th South and 8th East.  Mind you, these are really the only stores I go to on a regular basis, so they could be all over the place.  I just don't know.

There are seven different flavors: Plain, BBQ, Salt and Pepper, Salt and Vinegar, Cheddar, Sour Cream and Onion, and Parmesan Garlic.  I have tried the plain, S&P, S&V, and sour cream.  I have loved them all, except I found the pepper flavor in the S&P to be a bit overwhelming.  I haven't even seen the Parmesan Garlic flavor here, but I have a feeling I would just strap the bag on like a feedbag and go to town.

So, if you're looking for something tasty that won't cause the button on your pants to fly off, possibly causing someone grievous bodily harm, try the popchips.  Then try to stop eating them, because I think that might actually be impossible.  You're welcome.

This Is Why I'm Hot Weird.

Yeah, I'm watching Matlock right now. That's reason Numero Uno! Yes, Matlock was popular with old ladies in 1986, and now it's popular with ancient ladies who are lying in their hospital beds yelling at the nurse to "Turn up the volume because Ican't hear the Matlock and also change my diapers!"  But, it's also popular with me!  So popular, in fact, that I don't tell my DVR to record the series, I search for each episode and manually record it.  Now, before you ask, I don't know why I love Matlock.  It just IS.  Like the moon, or Kim Kardashian's ass (which can be the same thing under certain circumstances).  Hey-Oh!

Another reason I'm weird tonight is because I ate cheese for dinner.  I went to a lawyer thing after work and they had some finger-foods, but not the good kind (like chicken fingers).  They had some weird potatoe tarte squares with red pepper something and nut-stuffed dates (totally not what it sounds like.  They are actual dates with some kind of nut stuffed inside.  What?) wrapped in bacon.  Ok, so, first of all, BACON.  Secondly, I didn't know there were nuts in there and I thought I broke a tooth!  False alarm: it was some kind of nut.

But back to the cheese: so I came home from the thing and I thought, "I'm going to make some bacon for dinner." Then, when I went to get the bacon from the fridge, I saw my cheese and I was like, "Hmmm... cheese or bacon?"  Guess what I chose?  CHEESE!  Sorry for any of you who bet on bacon.  Normally that is a 100% sure thing, but cooking bacon tonight was just not in the cards.  I hope you didn't lose too much.  Who eats cheese for dinner?  Toddlers and Carrie, which, incidentally is an awesome name for a new show on TLC. 

Ok, so here is what I originally set out to write about: I'm weird because I don't like people I don't know.  Or, more specifically, I don't like when people I don't know think that they know me.  For example, I don't like when I go somewhere enough that people know what I'm going to order before I do it.  One time, a cashier at the liquor store said, "Have a nice day, Carrie" and I didn't go back to that store for more than six months.  I don't even think she actually knew my name; she got it from my drivers license.  But just the thought that she knew me scared me enough to hide from her for six months!  I still avoid her line when I go there!

I don't know why this bothers me so much.  I suppose it's part of my social anxiety.  I don't like to stick out.  I just want to blend in and make sure that the only people who know my bidness are people I want involved in my bidness.  Even if it's just a barista at Starbuck's knowing that I want a carmel macchiato.  Just let me order my sugary coffee drink and go!  I don't want to talk to you about your children when I pick up my prescription!  Yes, I see you like a million times a month, but just act like you don't know that I'm taking crazy pills!

This might come as a surprise to my friends, because I do seem very outgoing.  But I HATE meeting new people because I'm so horrible at small talk!  I'm so awkward and I feel like people don't get me, and then I'll say something that seems really strange and everyone is like "....."  Also, did I mention I'm awkward?  Because I am.  Joel thinks this is really funny.  Not like in a "HAH!" way, but in a "I have married a crazy person" way.  Sucks to be Joel!

So, if you don't know me and you see me on the street, just walk on by.  And, yes, I realize that I will have no way of knowing whether people know who I am, but are honoring my request to ignore me, or whether they are just people who don't know me.  We're just all going to pretend that you don't know me and we'll call it good, ok?  Ok!

Unless I'm drunk.  Because then I'm awesome and I'll talk your ear off about shit you don't care about and it won't matter because: it will be awesome and you will love it.  And then, the next time we're at a party, you'll come up to talk to me and I'll talk about the last episode of Matlock I saw, and you'll think I'm weird.