Photo credit: http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2012/07/in-sleepy-minnesota-suburbs-church-ladies-launch-gay-marriage-crusade/259678/
The website credits Benson Kua/Flickr as well.

Today is an historic day in my state. Minnesota Senators are going to vote today on Marriage Equality. The bill passed in the Minnesota House last Thursday. If the Senate passes it today, DFL Governor Mark Dayton says he will sign it -- possibly within 24 hours.

The image above was found in a Google image search and it was exactly what I was looking for.

I have been married for 17 years. My marriage at its core will not be affected by this vote. My life WILL be affected, though, because the lives of many of my friends, my church family, and families whose children attend my kids' public school will be affected, in a profoundly positive way.

There are SO MANY things tearing at the fabric of our society. But this? This is not one of them.

Today my state could take a step toward equality, toward respect, toward acknowledging the fact that love is love.

Let freedom ring.

Inspiration strikes again

I had a LOVELY day yesterday, getting our camper ready for the summer. I cleaned and scrubbed with very cold water, wiping out fridges and freezers, dusting, vacuuming, pulling bedding and towels out of Rubbermaid totes, and got everything shipshape with the help of my family. Awesome.

Part of the rush of the day was that I am hosting a Tupperware party out there on Saturday the 18th. I needed it to be squared away, and the weather this spring has been less than cooperative.

Last year we found a vintage nightstand in Lanesboro. It was red and chipped and had some paint spills on the top. Funky. A little gnarly. I LOVED it. We bought it, I brought it home and wiped it down, and I added a number of Minnesota-themed items (a fishing lure, some bottle caps from Lakemaid beer, postcards ...) and I poured a couple of layers of resin over them. The table turned out terrific, and I was on the hunt for another, thinking they would be great as side tables to hold drinks and magazines at the campsite. Plus, they would look cute on the deck. What's not to like?

I found another nightstand, kind of a French Provincial look, very curvy and the exact opposite of the sturdy and very serviceable red table (which even has a little drawer). I chose Superior Blue both for the color and the name, honoring a sacred place for my state and my family, and painted it. And then. I stuck one of the resin bottles on the paint and it ... melted it. And I couldn't face it any longer and stuck it in our storage unit for the winter.

I pulled it out today, inspired by the party. I could debut it on Saturday if I get my act together. So. You heard it here first.

I hereby challenge myself to sand the bad spot down. To prime and paint it again. To put together the random Minnesota trinkets and ephemera, and to add the resin. By Wednesday night, so it has ample time to dry.

Inspiration is good. Spring has arrived (though it is only in the 50s today and yesterday it was sleeting). I am feeling creative. And motivated. And hopeful.

It is a brand new day. Check back here for pix of BOTH tables by the end of the week.

Challenge accepted. BRING IT.

May 2 snowstorm

This was taken around 8 AM. Snow fell until mid afternoon, totaling 15.5" and we got an additional 2 inches overnight last night.

Global Weirding

I live in Rochester, Minnesota. It has been an odd year, weather-wise. The winter wasn't terribly tough, but we have just been struggling to get it to leave. Temperatures were below normal for the majority of April. We have had excessive amounts of rain, freezing rain, sleet, and all of the other cold and unpleasant forms of precipitation. Of course, thanks to the precip we have also had clouds. The entire month of April was gloomy and depressing.

Imagine our collective joy when we finally, FINALLY had several days in a row of sunshine and warmth. On Saturday, April 27 my family and I spent the morning at a neighborhood park picking up litter for a community cleanup project. We wore t-shirts. I wished I had brought a hat and worn sunscreen. It was nearly 80 degrees. And we knew a storm was coming. From the reports I had heard, we were to be getting rain followed by snow -- 4-6 inches was the number I heard most. Which, when you live in Minnesota, you are not shocked by. Eh, ok, there will be a day of snow, which will melt and make a mess, but in a day or two (no more) all will be back to normal again and we can resume our delayed spring.

Until I woke up yesterday morning. To the SIXTH snow day of the school year for my children. (I grew up in NORTH DAKOTA and never had 6 snow days in a school year!) And to six inches of snow in my back yard, which grew throughout the day until we had a grand total of 15.5 INCHES. OF SNOW. It took out power lines, including ours. (Shout out to the awesome peeps who braved the snow, the treacherous roads, and the bitter cold wind to bring me power in just over 3 hours. You ROCK!) It was so wet and heavy it weighed down tree branches and split trees. It toppled a pine tree in my neighborhood and pulled its roots out of the ground. It squashed our 6-7 foot tall arbor vitae hedge (that blocks the neighbors' heinous yard from our view) and I am concerned it won't recover this summer. Maybe ever.

The city forester posted on Facebook that the city lost more than 500 boulevard trees in one day. Let me say that again: more than 500 boulevard trees. The day we did the litter pick up there were dozens of volunteers in that park and the surrounding neighborhood planting 200 trees. Volunteers. Last year our city did a tree planting where, I believe, 1500 trees were planted in a day, mostly by volunteers. Our city forester is a tree hugger of the first magnitude. Our city is indebted to him for the amazing dedication and passion he has for his job. We plant a lot of trees here, and the community gets its hands dirty doing it. And in a day we lost 500 trees on city land. I can't even imagine the number of trees we lost on private property. Unreal.

So today, is it melted? Is it gone? Well, sorry, no. We got 2 more inches of snow overnight (ummm. no I am NOT lying) and later today it is supposed to rain. Have I mentioned that with all the earlier moisture we had my basement has been a soggy mess for 6 weeks? Oh. Never mind.

The local weather guy said this morning that since records have been kept in Rochester (1886), the total snowfall in May for all of those years combined is 4.9 inches. In one day we got 15.5 inches.

Tired of winter? Frustrated? Disappointed? Angry? None of that seems to come close to what "Rochestafarians" (thanks Ryan) are feeling right now. I usually am pretty good with words, but today, my vocabulary is inadequate.
I took a picture on my phone -- will post that shortly.
If you are the praying type, pray for spring.
And hurry, please.

I don't even know what to call this

I am steamed. Or rather, I was steamed the other day. I've pretty much calmed down about it now, and I am reaching that phase where I am once again accepting of the existence of idiocy, even as I rail against it.

What got me started this time?

Somebody preaching on Facebook about how the Girl Scouts are evil and they are so glad their daughter could join the American Heritage Girls (whose website states that it trains girls through "service to God," whatever that means) and that now they may be leaving Boy Scouts of America because of its impending changes re: homosexuality and scouting and they are sad because there is no organization for him to transition to.

Of course, said person also touted her devoutness (she's a Catholic) and her feeling that it is so important to teach her children family values because they have been "intrusted" to her. Whatever. God entrusts heroin addicts, prostitutes and Muslims with children, too, so I'm thinking that maybe the fact that you simply HAVE them is no indication that He thinks you are particularly worthy.

I am SO TIRED of people of ANY religion claiming they know the ONE TRUE PATH.

I am SO TIRED of people who are afraid of something so they deny others' humanity and rights.

I am SO TIRED of people who are bigoted and prejudiced somehow managing to claim that they are on the higher path.

I am SO TIRED of people bitching about how they don't want to live in a (Muslim) theocracy and then pushing their own religious beliefs on a free society with the individual right to worship (or not) as one chooses. (Thereby creating, wait for it .... a THEOCRACY.) Seriously?

I am SO TIRED of having to be quiet about this so as to not ruffle feathers.

Because then it's just my feathers that are ruffled. Again and again and a freaking-gain.

OH. And I am SO TIRED of people who constantly trumpet the right of unborn babies to live but in the next breath would deny basic rights to those babies if they grow up gay.

If you want to have a conversation about this with me, you have to understand something: YOUR religious beliefs do not trump mine, or anyone else's. 

We are talking about HUMAN BEINGS in this debate. PEOPLE. Who are sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts, moms and dads, and SPOUSES, regardless of what they are called legally. These are PEOPLE. God's own beloved children, whom he has created in His own image and has commanded His followers to love as themselves.

SO why is it so hard for you to understand that they are really just like anybody, and let them live a committed life with someone who loves them? Why is it that you and I, because we are straight, get all the benefits of a legally recognized union and they don't?

Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths.

The Sanctity of Life

I was born and raised in North Dakota.

It can be a tough state. The people are no-nonsense. Pragmatic. Resilient. They can also be intolerant.

In my town of about 8,000 on the North Dakota prairie, it was NOT ok to be different. I was a little brainy. I used big words. People thought I was odd. I WAS odd, for that town. I didn't belong there, and I knew it. Sure, I loved my family, I had friends, but I knew that North Dakota could not be my home forever. I was about 12 when I decided I was getting out as quick as I could.

Let me be clear: there are good people in North Dakota. I received a fine education. I was cared for by my parents, my neighbors and friends, and part of a faith community. I don't hate North Dakota or North Dakotans. I am proud to be a native North Dakotan.

But I am so sad for my home state right now. The Governor signed some bills into law today.

I am not going to argue with anyone about whether or not it is the right thing to do, about when life begins, about any of those questions. If you disagree with me, you have a right to do so respectfully and we can still be friends.

But here is why I am sad.

Because, while I have never had to make a decision about having an abortion myself, I don't believe I should have the right to make that decision for anyone else.

Because I don't know, if I had been told I was carrying a child with Down Syndrome, if I would have chosen to carry that baby to term.

Because sometimes sex isn't a choice, it is abuse, and I shudder to think of girls and women forced to carry a child created in violence.

Because as North Dakota lawmakers uphold the sanctity of life and every baby's right to be born, they cut funding that would benefit the children who are here, who through no fault of their own need a little help.

Because North Dakota educated me, taught me to think critically, to be independent, to be generous of spirit, to work hard and help my neighbors when they need it, to care for people less fortunate than myself, to share, to play nice, to be kind, to be strong, to give to my community, to respect people.

This law may "save" babies. But it is a hollow victory, because when the babies are full-fledged human beings, North Dakota lawmakers don't think they are worth caring for. A fetus is worth saving; a real live human being is not deserving of the slightest bit of respect.

My North Dakota is better than that.

And they wonder why college educated young people are leaving the state in droves.

You taught me to think, North Dakota. And I think you are wrong.