One picture of the chicken coop/run.

Tell me you don’t want to be one of my chickens.

Happy belated Pride, all! It was a fabulous weekend in the Bay Area, unless you are small and covered in black hair, in which case it was too hot to do anything but fall over on the kitchen floor.

Sign that Cat might be smarter: Does not lie down upon an afghan in sweltering heat.

Work on the chicken coop progresses, and will share pictures of the finished product.  The chickens themselves have been ordered(!) and will arrive via mail the fourth week of July.

Wife: What do you mean the chickens are arriving in the mail?

Whinger: The chickens will arrive in the mail.

Wife: Like, “Here’s the mail! Oh, and this box is peeping!”

Whinger: Yes.

Wife: And since I am the one home when the mail comes, what do you want me to DO with the box of LIVE CHICKENS?

Whinger: Open it?

Wife: No.

Whinger: No?

Wife: No. What if I open if up and there’s tragedy waiting?  DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO OPEN A BOX OF TRAGEDY?

Whinger: Right.  Just set the box outside and I’ll open it when I get home then.

Wife: Good plan.

I would tell you the chicken names, which are the awesomest names to be granted to chickens EVER, but instead I choose to exercise my one opportunity to be all smug about what we will call our little dumplings (not literal dumplings) when they arrive.  Take THAT, parents-to-be who will not discuss your baby names, even though names are my HOBBY and I can provide great INSIGHT and also tell you how should spell all names in reasonable fashion to save your child from becoming a brat.

[Signs off with a small smile, knowing that everyone who withheld name information from me sure is feeling sorry right about now.]

Dear Convention Goers:

Do not go to lunch with your nametags, badges and/or Bluetooth. No one is impressed.

It appears the Obama administration is giving little thought to the expense of my therapy and medication.

To: President Barack Obama & the Democratic National Party

Cc: Blog

The Department of Justice’s defense of the Defense of Marriage Act, as filed yesterday, is despicable.  To compare homosexual American citizens to those who commit incest, to argue that it would be hard for the government to cover costs of legitimate couples, to reason that everyone is equal because everyone has the same right to marry someone of the opposite gender: It reads like a how-to for spreading ignorance.

Presidential administrations, as I’m positive you’re aware, do not need to defend that which they find constitutionally indefensible. The President has stated in the past that he thinks that DOMA falls within this category.

The Democratic Party need not expect any more money (or votes for that matter) from me or my wife until we see actions that back up campaign promises made by our “fierce advocate.”  We will find candidates who will fight for that which they promise, or we will abstain.

It’s been awhile, and so we must approach what’s been going on in bulleted fashion:

- Most importantly, Wife said I can get some chickens! I have been diligently building them a fabulous run/coop in our backyard, and am hoping to have fresh eggs some time this year.  I also look forward to the consternation Dog will show at the new clucking feathery dogs. (In our house when we are anthromorphizing the animals, we think that Cat refers to Dog as “that big spastic cat” and that Dog speaks of Cat as a “grumpy little dog.”) Mostly I want the chickens because of my love of urban homesteading. It’s fun to have pets who produce food (we will not actually use the pets themselves AS food), and I think they’re fun and pretty.  But there’s a small part of me that is also planning for some sort of revolution. Paranoia in moderation is the key.

- While I can almost see the legal reasoning behind the California Supreme Court’s decision to uphold the popular constitutional amendment that is/was Proposition 8, I’m not thrilled by any measure. I blame the justices less and the idiots who voted for it more. I also continue to get very, very pissy when anyone refers to my marriage as a belief, but have thus far managed to not snippily reply, “Well, I don’t believe in YOU. So there.” Not only would it be rude and the antithesis of grace under pressure, but also nonsensical.

- I have managed to get mad at those who would deny me equal rights and stay mad for a reasonable amount of time.  And now I’m learning to let it go, while still maintaining dignity and respect for myself (all phrasing learned through psychotherapy, of course).  There are many fine lines in this process, and I am still learning when to cross them and when to sit pouting on one side or the other. I generally prefer the pouting, but only because I have a fabulous bottom lip.

- I had the honor of being in Becki’s wedding, and I got a very cute bridesmaid dress for Amber’s wedding.  And this bullet only serves to remind me I still haven’t sent her birthday present.

- “So You Think You Can Dance” has started again.  One would think that this is a strange bullet to include considering I’m catching everyone up on my life, but then one doesn’t know the importance SYTYCD holds in our home.  We have no time for “American Idol,” but all the time in the world for SYTYCD.

- I hated “Up.”  Thus far, I am the only person in the world to have this opinion. I loved the Star Trek movie, though.

Carry on.