Stupid Men and Their Damn Guns

So last week while we were in Florida, I get an e-mail from my neighbors on the East Side of Preston that hunters have been pulling up and shooting at the retention pond behind our house, and that he's been waking up to gun shots every morning.

He contacted the guy who owns Signature Homes, who admitted that he gave permission to hunters to be out there after 8 a.m., but that 5:30 a.m. is definitely abusing the privilege. My neighbor explained that his informal poll of other Prairie Meadows residents concluded that they don't want any shooting going on anywhere near their homes.

He apologized and said he'd contact the Sheriff's office, because apparently the hunters -- are sheriffs. So now we're home. The hunters are parking at the dead end of Bradford and Preston which wakes my dog up in a rage every morning at 5:30 a.m. I'm not really someone who approaches men who drive big black trucks that have four or five hunting caps in the window and are heavily armed to have conversations... so I e-mailed the builder.

He apologized and said he'd call the Sheriff's office.

I woke up to gun shots this a.m. at 6:30 a.m. again.

So I called the Sheriff's office. But since I don't own the land... I can't do shit about it. So I e-mailed the builder again. And then I went out there and on pink paper with silver lettering left notes for them to contact the owner and gave them the contact info.

For the life of me, I will never understand hunting. It's dark and cold and you go out there and sit, then you shoot something and have to get in a boat to go out and retrieve it... or send a dog. Which makes you wet and cold and in the dark... And then you have to go home and pluck it and skin it and wash your dirty dog. It all just sounds gross and messy. And I've had duck. It's not all that tasty. It's really pretty oily and there's not much to it. And as far as I know Canadian Geese (for reasons I'm sure escape everyone) are still a federally protected species. But surely, someone who is a Sheriff can understand people not wanting their peace disturbed in a residential area before 8 a.m.

And I totally get the feeling the Signature Homes guy is just going to let this ride until the end of hunting season. Grrrrrrrrrr.

Why, Today, I Dislike the State of Illinois

When I lived in Virginia and people asked me where I grew up, I'd answer Illinois with some kind of measure of pride in my voice. When running into a particular woman from New Jersey, her reply was, "That's one of those states I fly over to get to California, right?" Nice. Bitch.

Anyway, when I was in the D.C. area other midwesterners would find each other and it was like an island of family. In the lobby of my building once a woman walked up to me. She knew my name. She went to Millikin with me. She remembered that I was the editor of the school paper. I had no idea who she was, but she was temping in my building somewhere. The Vice President I reported to was from Illinois. He used to go to Rockford, my hometown, for swim meets. Now he's editor of the USA Today. There was a kind of pride of being midwestern. People found me pleasant, hard working, perky and easy to get along with (most of the time). I was timely and dedicated and loyal. I worked 60-hour work weeks and then gave another 20 hours a week to a service organization that was 20 miles away from where I lived and worked. But I had a hard time making friends that were more than just friends of proximity (work friends). In Illinois, I made connections that would last a lifetime, particularly when I was in college.

So, when we decided to move back here in 2003, I was overjoyed. And to a degree the high quality people haven't changed, except for one thing. I notice that more people are only worried about themselves and their families. If there was a tornado, I'm not sure people would run next door and check on their neighbors, unless they were close friends. People seem more short with each other, more quick to pounce and label people as dangerous, bad, evil, etc.

And then the recession came. If there's anything that makes people more mean and more self-centered, it's restricted financial resources. My child psych book repeatedly brings up the effects that poverty can have on children and a family. Specifically, people who can't afford a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, clothes on their backs and medical care. The effects of the lack of necessities forever affects that child and any future children he or she may have. So, when I get a facebook message with a link to a local news story about how one of our temporary sheltering facilities, A Woman's Place, may have to close its doors and empty the women and their children into the street because the State of Illinois is months behind on their payments (also behind are some federal funds) I get angry.

Women who were able to leave abusive relationships may now have to return to them because they don't have anywhere else to go. Some staff who haven't been paid in two paycheck cycles are continuing to work -- to try and keep those families safe. Good people lost their jobs because the state can't pay its bills.

How can anyone expect people to take care of other people, if government, organized to help govern and care for people, set such poor examples. It's only through the power of goodness that these families still have a warm, safe place to sleep and food in their bellies, where their children don't witness violence.

I'm ashamed of the state budget crisis. I'm ashamed of my elected officials. State of Illinois -- you're on my list. If you were caring and responsibile officials -- YOU'D forgo getting paid until these atrocities are fixed. You get paid when you do your job and fiscal irresponsibility isn't your job. Shame on all of you.

Ugly Demeanor

Usually, I'm a woman who is pretty even keel. I don't judge people on appearance. I give them time to sink in. I'm usually pretty understanding and not quick to make assumptions. But today, today I got annoyed at a great many things I don't normally get annoyed at.

I am usually a woman who supports parents and their choices, because I know, particularly the parents that I'm acquainted with, would dive in front of a moving train for their young ones. But today, I'm annoyed at how combative things are about certain subjects. How the tones that some parents use in order to voice their opinions comes across as the loudest one around, and I worry that other parents who haven't had the chance to really think about an issue and determine what is best for their family are influenced by that loud, bullying voice. I've always tended to hear what the voice says, and then determine for myself whether to listen. But when the shouting gets louder and the angry group it's solicited as minions starts going, the voice of dissent is often treated like it's crazy and invalid or even dangerous -- rather than just different.

I hate when people do that to each other. I hate it. And it makes me want to take the other side (even if I agree with the loud person's opinion) just to point out that diversity in views is always a good idea. That there is no one exactly correct way to do everything, and that by choosing something different that person isn't telling you you're wrong. Instead, she or he has found something that fits better for him or her. Shades of gray. I firmly believe in shades of gray.

I went to dinner at Lavender Lemonade's tonight all full of angst about this kind of stuff. Her usual pleasantness completely calmed me down for a while. But as I think about earlier today, I get frustrated. And I wish things were culturally different. And I wish the loudmouths would just shut up a bit, so I can regain my zen abilities again.

Because one of these days, I'm going to be tired of being the adult you can count on. The dependable, rock solid Looseyfur. One of these days, I'm just going to implode. I can feel it. Don't push me. You've never seen me mad. And trust me, there are reasons for that.

Disturbing Billboard

In late winter 1998, I was lying in bed reading the newspaper. It was a completely normal Sunday morning. MacTroll and I slept in, he ran out and got a coffee and a Washington Post and I hung out with the kitties being lazy as can be. 

Then in the middle of my beloved Metro section out comes the question: "So, um, are we going to get married?"

It wasn't really a proposal, but my mind turned upside down, and I stared only at the now non-sensical paragraph in front of me. I wasn't really surprised at the question. We had been together since July 1992. We had moved in together. We had joint bank accounts. We adopted a couple cats. We had furniture. But it was the whole word -- "marriage." It was tied to words like "wife" and "husband" and "anniversary." All words that I hate because of the the cultural assumptions that are tied to them that I believe are sexist, dangerous and just plain ugly.

My response, which was, I'm sure, not the one MacTroll had wanted was, "Can't we just be together without all that - mess?"

Silence.

"I guess I just always pictured myself married," he said quietly.

"Can I think about it?" I asked.

"Sure."

So I did. I thought and I thought and I shook my head with distaste. Marriage was about law and religion and all this other stuff that didn't really apply to us. 

A couple weeks later it got brought up again. I said I needed more time. 

"How much more time?"

"I want to live with you for at least another year before I give you an answer."

In January 2000, I decided that if we got married we could do it our way. None of this white dress, staring at the bride down the aisle stuff. No uncomfortable wedding showers or people in suits and ties. If we were going to get married it was going to be a big party -- and most of all, it was going to be a ceremony that celebrated the 8 years we were together before we got married. Because, damn it, you put 8 years in with someone, they count. 

Sure, there will still be those people who only believe your relationship is validated once you sign that damn certificate, but they just don't get it -- the big picture of what is important. 

Life is about connections and regardless of what you signed or pledged before whatever power that be you believe in -- you've met someone you want to spend part of your life with. Someone you can be vulnerable with and someone you can depend on (and vice versa). That doesn't happen every day. So when you find it, you need to hold onto it and work on it as hard and as long as you can. Because there are no guarantees -- and in case anyone hasn't noticed the idea of "forever" has gotten a lot shorter lately and with good reason. 

People are forming relationships more out of mutual interest in one another (and much later in life) rather than because it's a societal institution and a check mark on a list called "A successful life." 

In April 2000, I went to the Feminist Expo 2000 with my friend Heidi. We had to take an afternoon off of work to go. We drove up to Baltimore and saw Tyne Daly and Sharon Gless give their speeches. Then we broke up into small sessions. Would it be Mary Daly or bell hooks. Damn, that was a hard decision.

bell hooks was talking about love and damn it, I was a 21st century, 20-something with a big question on her hands...

So I stood up and asked how in the world can a feminist who is uncomfortable with how society treats and talks about marriage and assigns roles based on gender could I possibly ever feel comfortable with the reality, when the basic relationship vocabulary made me seriously uncomfortable.

She gave me an honest answer about negotiables and non-negotiables. Getting married to me was negotiable. Sharing a last name was a non-negotiable. Having a lot of people was a non-negotiable. Having traditional vows that made people promise a lot of stuff that they might want to do, but in reality probably wouldn't, was non-negotiable. 

On the drive back to D.C. I talked with Heidi and made my list. Not surprising most of the stuff that was non-negotiable Joel didn't give a crap about either. :-) That always makes things easier--when you agree on the big picture stuff.

So, when I drove down Prospect Avenue today after making my $70 purchases from Target, my eyebrows furrowed when I read a billboard that said, "Married people make more money. Marriage Works" with large images of coins on a table. I gagged and turned up my Liz Phair.

In all of my stressing out about what I wanted our marriage to be about, it didn't even occur to me to think of capitalism as a point to get married. I mean, holy shit. 

How is a relationship based on promises of greater financial success possibly a good advertisement for one of the most challenging and dynamic relationships that you'll ever have.

In my opinion, that stupid billboard is what is wrong with America's views of relationships. It represents exactly why so many marriages end up in divorce, which is not a sign of failure between the two people, but instead a sign of failure of our culture which promotes a completely materialistic view of "success" and an unrealistic approach to love. Love should be appreciated for all of its grandness and its pretty serious shortcomings.

(Someone remind me again what is so desperately wrong with being single? It's not like a plague. Seriously. Be happy single. Be happy in a committed relationship. Be happy however you live your life.)

And while I'm all worked up, remind me again, how not allowing people who are of the same gender to get married isn't discrimination? I've always been a little fuzzy on good and bad things and I tend to be "non-trad" according to my friends about things like this. But I'm still confused. If Ellen wants to marry Portia, why the hell does it matter to the rest of us? Can't we just say, "Rock on and good luck!" Like we do when any other couple that we purchased a $99 ricemaker for takes that plunge?

That sign really pissed me off.