My mind is buzzy. Humming and darting and lighting on nothing for very long. If I were a more learning the lesson kind of person I might accept this as an indication that it’s time to get back to my long neglected meditation practice. Instead that little nugget becomes no more than one of the pretty flowers I’m flitting around. Buzz in, marvel at the bright color, dart on. A little tiring, but true.
Hoping there will be post length thoughts on some of these topics to come, but for now there’s simply too much spazz for that.
Family size. This is an open question at my house and I can be swallowed whole by open questions. When a matter is decided I feel like I can have some rest. A deep breath. Closure. When something SO HUGE is up in the air, that’s a lot of unknown for me. Too much. But…..now is not the time for this one. Monkey is only 8 months old. Sure, my wife is 36 but who’s counting? The current state of things is that we both feel we’ve got one more in us. We feel like 3 is our number. Notice my use of the word feel. It’s less clear whether we think we’re a family of five. Thinking is so much trickier.
Obstinance. My charming son is two. Next month he will be two and a half. While this is a lovely age in all sorts of ways, it is also maddening. His ability to resist and disagree and generally be difficult is his very favorite new toy. Got an idea for something fun to do? Yogi’s most definitely NOT in. Want to cook his most beloved breakfast? “Yogi doesn’t eat pancakes with honey.” That one is a direct quote. There are plenty of sweet moments to cushion these blows, but blows they most certainly are.
Norah Vincent. I love when a book sneaks up on me. When I have no idea that one of my favorites is writing a book and then I’m wandering around at the library (after bedtime – what a life I lead!) and shezam! There it is! That’s what happened last week when I discovered that my crush-of-the-moment has a new book out. Fiction too! I’ve been reading Thy Neighbor during every spare moment I can find. It’s super dark and fairly disturbing, but I love it. And I love her. And I’ve Google Image stalked her. And maybe I’ve imagined a tete a tete. Maybe.
Legal (not mine) Marriage. My post-transition college girlfriend has gotten married. LEGALLY married. The person for whom I cannot seem to shake the female pronoun (my problem, I know), has a wife. Their marriage is recognized by the very Southern state in which they live. A big thank you to Facebook for letting me know. To call my reaction to this complicated would be to grossly understate the point.
T Cooper and Real Man Adventures. In not wholly unrelated news, I met T Cooper! The reading was surprisingly entertaining for a book reading (there was music and reality television trivia and miniature cupcakes!) and provided the opportunity for a brief chat with the author which I’m always in for. All fabulous. And then there was the book. The book in which T talks about his “thing”. He calls it his “thing”, other people might call it his gender transition.There’s a lot to say about the book, but I’ve not quite gotten past his characterization of himself as “lesbophobic” and his athletic assertions regarding his wife’s heterosexuality and his repeated joking reference to his white male privilege. These are things that get to me. They rankle. And while I honor every person’s right to live their life in precisely the way that feels most authentic, I wish.wish.wish. that there were more space for masculinity within the boundaries of the female body.