Saving an American Coot

Friday morning when Tiger and I were at the park, we noticed the dogs paying a lot of attention to something in the bushes. The dogpark is up near a wildlife refuge and we often see coyotes, bunnies and other animals, so I thought they were just smelling a spot where the animals go under the fence.

But when they wouldn't come when I called them, I went to investigate and noticed an injured bird. Well, if any of you know Tiger, there's one thing you know about her is her love of animals. She's like Ellen that way.

We called the Audubon Society and they said if we could bring it in, they would take a look at it. So we took the coat off our old dog and gently wrapped it around the bird and picked it up. It looked like some kind of duck. She struggled a bit, but settled into Tay's arms.

It took us about ten minutes to walk back to the car and another 30 to make it to the Audubon Society.

The volunteer there took the bird and told us it was an American Coot and she had a badly injured foot. The veterinarian was going to be in later in the day and they would try to help the coot.  We haven't heard yet, but we hope she is safe, warm and healing up for a release this Spring when the pond thaws.

Hanging Christmas Lights

The sun was out on Saturday, so Tiger and I decided to hang up our Christmas lights. After pulling all the lights out of the basement I discovered that almost every string was bad. So, it was off to Fred Meyer to buy new lights. 

We borrowed the tall ladder from the neighbor and Tiger climbed up on the roof...

What's that? Tiger on the roof? Shouldn't that be your job, Dipstick? Isn't the butch supposed to be the one climbing up on things and wielding the staple gun? 

How sexist of you to think such a thing! Besides, the one year Tiger let me up on the roof to hang the lights, well, let's just say, they didn't turn out exactly straight. Or even. White strings didn't end at exactly the end of the rafters. Blue strings didn't quite make it all the way around the window. Extension cords dangled in the wind. 

Quite frankly it looked shabby. And the neighbors still remind us of the year Dipstick hung the Christmas lights. Or as they like to say, "It looked like a drunken, color-blind five-year-old climbed up there, and then got lost."

So, now, every December, I lovingly hold the bottom of the ladder while Tiger climbs on the roof and painstakingly lines our home with white and blue lights. 

Because, as you can see, I can't even take a straight photo.

Tay's Pays

Do you have a friend who is always getting their name pronounced wrong? Perhaps she’s named Alicia and people call her Aliza. Or the common mistake of Laura versus Lara. Sarah versus Sara. After being called Ray-mon for years, my friend Ramon added an “e” to the end of his name so people would say it right.

Well, my girlfriend has one of those names. She spells it Tay, but it’s pronounced Tie. People get her name right until they see it spelled and suddenly they start calling her a name that rhymes with “say.”

The other night Tay made me a delicious pie for my birthday. All of my friends agreed she could go into the pie business. And we came up with the perfect name. Tay’s Pays. Pronounced, of course, “Ties Pies.” Yum. Do we have our first customer?

Tying the Knot Again

It was four years ago that Tiger and I stood in line for hours to get married in San Francisco. To this day, that was one of the most amazing experiences in my life. It felt so amazing to not only be marrying my partner of more than 10 years, but to caught up in the whirlwind of making of history.

We heard about the marriages in San Francisco on Friday and by Saturday we were on a plane and married on Sunday. It seemed the whole city of San Francisco came out to celebrate our union. You can read about that day here.

Such was not the case on Friday, when we went to the County Building to register as domestic partners. We went with our friends Pam & Vicky to make it more festive. We stood in line with the others out to pay their taxes or request a zoning license. A few other lesbian couples were in line, as well as some straight couples filing for marriage licenses. We paid our $60 and then $7.95 for the certified copy because we might need it one day to access a hospital room. It’s all part of what Pam calls, “The gay tax.” We have to pay and pay just to get a fraction of the rights straights do.

There was no hoopla. No champagne toast. Not even a “You may kiss the bride.” Am I glad we have the rights? Yes. Do I feel like a second class citizen, not being allowed to marry? Yes. Will I continue to fight for full marriage equality? Yes. But for now, I’ll take the crumbs, because unfortunately, someday we may need them.

Box in a Box

Well, I've been scratching my head trying to figure out what to get my wife for Christmas. Snooping around on the internet, I think I found the perfect idea. Why didn't I think of this earlier?

glumbert - My Box in a Box