Because I’m Fabulous is everywhere!!!

Okay the site’s not exactly everywhere but it’s more places than just here. I have a Twitter account but that one isn’t really worth watching because it’s pretty much just my Instagram pictures shared with Facebook and Twitter. If you’re on Twitter and not on Instagram it might be worth it but, otherwise, skip it.

My more popular one is Instagram. Emma’s not one for getting her photo taken. I’ll throw one up if she’s willing but usually Instagram is photos I find interesting, so lots of cats and nature shots with some unusual shots thrown in. Like my rubber chicken riding a fake security camera. Emma insisted my room needed the camera. I insisted my room needed a blue rubber chicken and there we were. It’s like it was meant to be.

And my most popular one is Facebook. I’m on Facebook a fair bit and share all the positive LGBTQ posts I find (I figure there’s enough sharing of the negative news already). I add each blog post there almost as soon as I finish writing it and share some information and stories about Emma. Also, Facebook messenger is the easiest way to reach me.

my bookLast, but not least, I wrote a novel and published it almost a year ago. It’s called Leaving Hope and it’s a fantasy novel. If you’re interested in reading it, you can find it here. If you’d rather have a paperback version, you can find it here. My Mom ordered it and the book is absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful enough that I want to order a copy and I wrote the damn thing. I know what’s going to happen (but I’m not going to spoil it for you).

Emma insisted I start a Patreon but I’ve only added one thing to it, a short story based of an, as yet, unpublished novel. If people show an interest in it, I’ll write and add more but otherwise it will languish with the one story.

I’ve got my electric fireplace on and Blackie boo is currently snuggled up in front of it. She’s finished her antibiotics for her cold and is sneezing most less now, worryingly enough she’s not eating any more yet. I’ve placed her on wet cat food, which she enjoys, but she only nibbles at it. A friend told me her older cats take longer to bounce back after illness so maybe that’s all it is. The other cats are sneezing too but they’re all eating well so hopefully this infection will pass us by unscathed. And now it’s time to stop writing in here and start writing in my book. I hope every last one of you has a wonderful weekend!

Opening with homophobia…

A friend of mine went to the Marc Anthony concert in Miami, Florida last night at the AmericanAirlines Arena. She felt horrified and, in her own words, hopeless when the opening act started. The comedian, Joey Vega, started his act with the statement “no faggots accepted here”. She and her husband both stood up and booed but she said they were the only ones, that people were laughing and clapping.

Now I don’t know what to do and quite frankly am not in a state of mind to do anything right now. But if anyone else wants to do something, here’s all the contact information I could find.

AmericanAirlines Arena
601 Biscayne Blvd, Miami, FL 33132, United States
Contact us

Feedback address for Sony Music (Marc Anthony’s label)

And now my jaw drops. I just found this gem of a quote on the Comedy Hosting website:

Joey [Vega] has combined his comedy with motivational speaking — helping people realize that anything is possible in America. No matter who you are — Latino, Black, white, female, gay, disabled — you can go beyond all obstacles and become successful in America.

Joey takes a lot of pride in knowing that he can make a difference in people’s futures. People leave his shows not only laughing, but also feeling good about themselves and their future.

Comedy Hosting

Joey Vega’s Twitter account

It’s a boy! It’s a girl!

I got asked a question on Twitter yesterday…

“Why do pple get excited learning the sex of their baby? Would they not be as happy if results were different?”

I tried my best to answer the question on Twitter but 140 characters just wasn’t enough space (even 280 didn’t cut it) so I’m writing my answer here.

I remember being pregnant; that sense of unreality when two little lines appeared on a white plastic stick. I didn’t look any different or feel any different, it was hard to believe I would be a mother in less than a year. Well, unless I miscarried (which I did twice). The weeks crept on, I got a bit queasy and the waist of my pants grew a bit snug but that was it.

You often can’t feel the baby kick until almost halfway through the pregnancy and even then, it feels like a bit of gas or a twitchy muscle for several weeks after that. Around that time came the ultrasound; it was a window to the other side of my normal looking, albeit rounder, stomach. A chance to finally get a glimpse of the stranger everyone assured me that I’d love more than life itself.

Being pregnant was like being told I’d soon have a roommate… for the next 18+ years. Except there would be no interviews, no background checks, and no references. I had no idea what this person was going to be like (other than messy and very dependent). No one could tell me what the baby would look like other than having four limbs, all their digits, eyes, a nose, and a heart that looked fine. They couldn’t tell me if the baby would enjoy music, be quiet or outgoing, be fascinated with bugs or books, or serve a mean invisible tea from plastic cups. They could, however, tell me the sex… possibly… if the baby’s legs weren’t crossed. I took it, at least that was something tangible in a vast sea of nothing. Plus it would let me know if we needed to keep arguing over boy’s names (both sides of the family have horrible names for boys). Emma had her legs crossed. Jeremy didn’t.

And then there’s the more practical issues. I went to buy a newborn outfit three years ago. The parents thought the baby might be a girl but the ultrasound wasn’t clear so I figured I’d get something fairly neutral. There wasn’t anything. Every single piece of clothing in the baby’s department was either pink with flowers and butterflies or blue with sports and nautical themes. I ended up picking the least frilly pink clothes in the department and added a receipt. The baby was a girl (well so far at least) so luckily the outfit was fine. Babies need clothes desperately. They vomit copious amounts of milk all over themselves and everyone around them. They’ll crap so hard it ends up between their toes and through the back of their hair (and I really wish I was exaggerating). The sooner you know what’s between their legs, the sooner you can amass a supply of clothes.

And every. single. person asks, “so, do you know what you’re having?” as soon as it’s obvious you’re having a baby and not just consuming lots of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. The answer “a baby” does not satisfy the nosy, although I did find “a baby with blue eyes” confused a fair number of them. Likely the ones who slept through high school science classes.

I guess whether they’re disappointed depends on what each parent was looking for. I was looking for a baby, preferably healthy. Having a boy worried me a little because I’d grown up around girls and didn’t know what to expect, but hearing “it’s a boy” from the ultrasound technician wasn’t a disappointment. Looking down while I was delivering Emma and announcing, “It’s a girl” wasn’t a disappointment either.

I’m sure there are people who are disappointed for various reasons. Maybe they wanted a second boy or girl so their oldest would have a friend. Maybe they wanted one of each. Maybe they had bad experiences with their own sibling and were worried about raising a similar child. Or, more seriously, maybe there’s sex linked health issues in the family and they’re worried about bringing a child into the world who’ll face pain and suffering. But I have a feeling most parents are like me, simply happy to finally have something to know about their baby, something tangible to share with others and plan around.

I’ll wait until tomorrow to talk about stereotypes.

Ethical waffling…

Jeremy and I had a long talk on his birthday in which he admitted he was worried about being disowned by our family if they found out about the blog. I assured him he had nothing to worry about in that regard, no one in the family would disown him. They’d think he was weird but they wouldn’t disown him. And it’s true. They wouldn’t understand and probably wouldn’t make any attempt to understand but disowning him wouldn’t even cross their minds.

I’m an atheist and have been so since I was 15 years old. I turn 44 years old next week and my Mom still thinks it’s a phase I’m going through out of a desire to be weird. Same with being a vegetarian (which I’ve been since I was 22 years old). I became a vegan last year and my Mom immediately asked why I’d put myself out of the natural order of life and was denying nature and the circle of life. Why was I trying to be unnatural? Funnily enough, I had absolutely no answer at all to that one. And my Dad still absentmindedly offers me milk, cheese, and ice cream. Flip side is my Mom buys containers of vegan margarine to keep in her fridge for when I come over and checks all the labels for me before she buys stuff. So they won’t understand but will accept.

During that conversation I assured Jeremy that if the family disowned him, I’d disown them. And that comment leads to my waffling. You see, Emma’s now been disowned by a close family member (who I’ll call Karen).

I won’t get into too many details. It involves Emma being an extremely messy 18 year old who was asked by Karen to clean up before her grandparents (my parents) got home from their vacation. Emma responded with several obscenities; she admits she was wrong there. Plus Karen was under quite a bit of stress to have the house looking perfect as my Mom became quite ill over their holiday and ended up spending a week in the hospital. Then Emma called her some pretty nasty names. According to Emma, Karen apparently responded by telling Emma to just go on welfare because she was no better than her father, would never amount to anything, and didn’t deserve anything better. She deleted and blocked her on Facebook too.

Karen immediately contacted Amy who promptly messaged this to Emma:

“You are unbelievable and are just like your mom. You take no responsibility for your own actions, words or behaviour. I have heard enough empty excuses from you. You are an adult now. I hope you move back in with your mother. My family is my business and I will involve myself. Good luck in life.”

Keeping in mind I have barely spoken to Amy in the past five years. I think the Facebook thread I posted about back in March is by far the biggest conversation I’ve had with her; I also don’t think I’m the one who looked bad in that discussion. Emma reacted just as you’d expect considering someone had just verbally attacked her mother. She told Amy not to talk about her mother like that and deleted her off Facebook. Meanwhile Karen messaged me to say she’d had a major issue with Emma but it was done and she hoped it wouldn’t affect our relationship. I’m telling you, this has been a stellar week for family. Amy’s upcoming visit is going to be *interesting*.

That being said, I’m not planning on disowning Karen. I have great plans of staying right out of it.

Jeremy and I were putting away our groceries when I broached the subject.

“It just feels different and I’m not sure why,” I commented. “I said I’d disown anyone if they disowned you over your gender but Karen’s actually disowned Emma and I don’t want to retaliate.”

Jeremy shrugged and kept putting away the groceries, smiling when he found his can of iced tea.

“I guess because gender isn’t something you have any control over. You can’t change it on a whim anymore than you can change your eye colour.” I smiled and added, “Go for it… change your eyes.”

Jeremy laughed then squinched his eyes shut before taking a drink.

“Holy crap!” I blurted. “They’re brown now!”

Jeremy nearly snorted iced tea out his nose. His eyes are not brown by the way.

“If Karen told Emma she was disowning her for having borderline personality disorder, I’d have just walked away from the relationship. But she didn’t. Not only that but Emma started the whole argument off by calling Karen some really nasty names.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, it makes sense Mom.”

I yawned then sighed. “Jeremy? I have a favour to ask you.”

He watched me intently.

“Remember how you came out as bisexual last summer and then realized you were straight. It involved a lot of screaming on your part and you even got your therapist to tell me you were straight. I just can’t do that again. If you’re cisgender can you tell me now and not just drag it out for months before yelling at me.”

He smiled then pulled me against him for a hug. “Don’t worry Mom,” he assured me. “It’s not going to happen and I’m not going to yell at you.”

And, for a complete and total change of topic, I think I’ve sorted out Twitter. I’m using it to share small conversations between Jeremy and I (too small to blog about) and pictures (not of our faces as that defeats the purpose of an anonymous blog). So feel free to follow me and enjoy. Photos of Jeremy’s fancy new water bottle will be up shortly 🙂

So I’m now on Twitter

I also have no idea whatsoever what I’m doing. I have no idea how hashtags work. I have no idea how to retweet something, although I’m pretty sure retweet means to share something. I have no idea how to like a tweet or reply to one… or if those options are even possible. I’m sure I’ll sort it out soon. I have managed to set up my account and even add my picture and a header.

My twitter account is: if anyone’s interested in following me. Considering how much time I spend on Facebook, I’m sure I’ll be updating there regularly.