Love to all. Even you.

There were lots of kids playing together at a memorial day service. Three of them were mine. They were playing tag. This big kid (it’s all relative, he was 11 or so) walked by my youngest (who is four) and my kid tagged him, even though he wasn’t playing. He turned to my boy and said… “Hasn’t anyone told you not to talk to [he put his hands on my boy’s shoulders] STRANGERS?!” And at the last word, he shoved him to the ground.

I advanced on the kid without thinking. I was in a rage.

However, I am happy to report that I didn’t touch him, threaten him, or use foul language. I told him clearly that big kids had no place touching someone that much smaller than him. He tried to make an excuse, but I cut him off. After I walked away, he apparently started crying. And when he saw me a little later, he ran. At first I felt kind of bad.

But after thinking about it for awhile, I decide that, no, I don’t feel bad at all. Sometimes it’s okay to lose your shit a little.

Love to all. Even you, Mr. 11-vs-4.

I already know I’m going to engage in some serious conspicuous consumption.

My mileage is coming up: I’m running between 20 and 25 miles a week, and I’m trying to get into a groove for when I start training for the NYC marathon in earnest this summer. A few days ago, I got an email, announcing this.

Now, I’ve got an iPod Video and a iPod shuffle. I run in Asics Gel Kayano sneakers. But I can see myself getting totally overwhelmed by technological compulsion. I mean, the Nike sneakers transmit running data to the iPod Nano, giving aural feedback on distance, progress, etc. It’s the perfect combination of all of my gadgets. Only in new, different gadgets.

Lord help me.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who off-handedly asked me to bring “ice cream and cookies for 20.”

A new chimney, and a new tree. Maggie and I both love birch trees, so we bought one about a month ago. The chimney… well… aside from being monstrously expensive (can you say “through-wall copper flashing?”), I was pleasantly surprised at how much I like it. I mean, it’s a chimney. How much joy can a chimney bring?

Turns out: quite a bit.

I think this house is the first place I’ve really considered home. Strange as that may seem.

Anyway. Today was packed. PACKED! Morning mass, then a trip to Rye Playland, then home, then a 7-mile run, then swimming with the kids, then tennis with my oldest… then Maggie went out, so I put the two youngest to bed.

I should be exhausted, but I’m not.

Love to all. Even you, the lifeguard with a tendency to chit-chat instead of lifeguard.

Seriously. How can anyone but a painfully-closeted / self-hating / utterly confused person start, join, and/or maintain an organization like Exodus International? What a fucked up group. If you go to the site, read through some of the FAQ. It’s really quite scary. Specifically, pay attention to how they begin many FAQ answers by seeming at least a little rational… but by the second paragraph, they turn sneaky and twisted. For instance (italics are my inserts):

Is there a connection between homosexuality and predatory behavior, like pedophilia?
We cannot presume that all homosexuals are at a higher risk level to molest children or develop into pedophiles than are heterosexuals. [Note the use of the word 'all' - sneaky.] Nor would it be appropriate to allow the label homosexual and pedophile to become interchangeable. At the same time, homosexual men who are unable to sustain healthy peer relationships might well find the potential for age-
inappropriate attractions more real than they thought possible. [Utterly pointless, backed up by nothing, but implying a real connection.]

It goes on to draw a further relationship between pedophilia and homosexuality, since, according to these wonks, homosexuality and pedophilia “share an arrested sexual and emotional development.” Of course, it says, this relationship cannot “necessarily” be drawn.

Sneaky, gross, icky.

The thing I never understand about the whole Anti-Gay thing is what exactly is wrong with being gay? Who does it hurt? How does it negatively affect anyone? What’s the downside? Hell, what’s the upside?

It’s just a way of being. Nothing more, nothing less.

Love to all. Even you, Mike Haley.

A former stripper, the head of a securities compliance firm, a lady who toured with the Who, a senior partner at a major law firm, a singer, a fitness model, a former model who just went back to college, a university professor, a city-employed gardener, an international architect, a well-known interior designer, a CNN intern, a legal recruiter and me…

…all having dinner, and all having a blast.

These are just some of the people from my main morning AA group in NYC. In some ways, these people know me better than my family. And I, them.

We were gathered together for a surprise party to celebrate one of our members’ 20th year sober. She’s a graceful, gorgeous, super-smart woman who will help anybody, at any time. She was genuinely surprised by the dinner.

Looking around the table, I was truly and wonderfully touched by group’s purity of communication. There was no agenda, no sense of clique. We were just an eclectic group of people, brought together by a common problem, celebrating one of our own.

Nice.

Love to all. Even you, the person who should have been with us, but hasn’t found their way.