Congratulations to the Groom and Groom

… and he kissed the ‘bride’ | This is London

eltonmarried.jpg

Elton John and his long-term partner David Furnish married earlier today. Congratulations to both and best wishes for their future happiness.

It’s a little bit funny this feeling inside
I’m not one of those who can easily hide
I don’t have much money but boy if I did
I’d buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one’s for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they’ve got me quite cross
But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song
It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen

I really love that song – the first line popped into my head unbidden as I was reading about the wedding. I’ve always had a strong connection to Elton John’s music – it was definitely part of the soundtrack of my life from junior high and “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” to college and “Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word.”

I’m looking forward to the day, probably a generation from now, when the term “gay marriage” will sound quaintly antiquated, like “demon rum” or “the Yellow Peril.”

My Feline Co-Conspirators

My monkeylady was reading something on the computer, and then as she often does, wandered away. I took the opportunity to do a little kitty recon and found a few more fellow travelers in the Cat’s Right movement (our motto: “The cat’s right, monkey. Get used to it.”

Another monkeylady writes about her cats, and has conversations with them much like I have with my own monkeys:

ginmar: Note to self:After boiling hot water for

“STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”

“NOW!”

“Off the counter!”

“What did I say?”

“No more laser pointer for YOU!”

“Get OUT of there!”

“Get OFF of there!”

“(*&^! cats!”

“I’m trying to write!”

“Do you have to do that?”

Today’s lesson, therefore, is:

Drink tea before interrogating one’s cats.

Do not interrogate one’s cats. One can only imagine their replies to this nonsense.

“Yes, quite frankly, we must. Why do you keep asking us this?”

“No.”

“No.”

“No.”

“Who cares? We don’t listen to you.”

“Bite me, you tall hairless oppressor!”

“It’s where the good people food is!”

“Hey, either you let us eat or you let us drink the Scotch. You decide.”

How very strange – that’s exactly the sort of claptrap I have to endure from my monkeylady. I love her dearly, but she actually reprimanded me sharply this evening when I decided to sample the brightly-lit bush she assembled in the living room.

What? It didn’t even taste that good, but I felt duty-bound to verify my data.

She brought a couple of boxes in and scattered intriguing looking things all over, then put together this thing that looks exactly like a giant toy designed especially for persons of the fur persuasion like myself.

Then she dangled some shiny balls on it. Can’t wait for later, when I see how far they go when batted. Think I’ll wait until after they are deeply asleep and making that disgusting “snoooOOORK” noise.

I wouldn’t want to disturb them, after all.

Anyway, I can see from the above dialogue that although I have much in common with other cats and their monkeys, I do have several comments or questions.

  1. What is “scotch?”
  2. It’s called a “laser pointer?” I see. Thank you.
  3. Why did my monkey assemble a bush in the living room? Anyone? Anyone? Mewler?

Uh, oh. The furry monkey is returning from somewhere else and I’ll have to “log off” for now. Well done, my feline co-conspirators. Continue the good work in confounding and confusing our dear but misguided monkeys.

U505

Flickr

First of all, sorry to have left this unexplained for so long – David and I went and spent the night in downtown Chicago last Thursday because we were both off last week and we had a bunch of things we’d been wanting to do for fun.

UPDATE: Everytime I look at this image I think how striking it is how a museum display can have so much impact. It’s a little like walking into an unexpected cathedral.

Besides a narrative using historical dioramas and reenacted filmed material, there’s also a really cool video showing how the old German submarine was rehabbed, restored, lifted up, and moved into the excavated “submarine bay.” They did it by taking still pictures every day, and putting them together to make a stop-action movie. It’s fascinating, and a remarkable engineering accomplishment.

Here’s a list of what we did:

  1. Museum of Science and Industry
  2. Lunch at the museum cafeteria
  3. Navigated our way via Lower Wacker to the hotel
  4. Dinner at The Palm in the lobby of the hotel
  5. Went to see “Wait Wait! Don’t Tell Me!” being taped
  6. Admired Carl Cassel’s natty suit and tie from afar
  7. Walked back to the hotel for dessert
  8. Admired the pretty lights and the skaters along the way
  9. Went to bed but I didn’t sleep well
  10. Enjoyed the view of the sleeping city
  11. Went home the next morning after a nice buffet breakfast

The highlight of the visit to the Museum of Science and Industry was definitely seeing the refurbished German sub the U-505 in its beautifully designed new underground bunker. It’s very well done and the story of its capture is told in an interesting and exciting way as you walk along toward the the entrance to the bay. There’s actually a lot of dramatic tension that builds up through their use of sound effects, visual displays, and filmed reconstructions of the tense battle to capture the sub. Then when you finally get inside, you’re right there at the prow, looking along the deck.

I’d rank this display right up there with London’s Cabinet War Rooms for evoking WWII for a modern audience and for preserving history in a way that puts you in the middle of the era, and invites you to be part of the action.

It’s a very moving display – we didn’t pay to take the tour inside this time, but definitely will next time. Previously, if you didn’t take the tour, all you could do was look at the sub from a distant window on the way to the Space Center section. It looked a little forlorn and neglected out there, quietly rusting away into oblivion. Now it’s preserved, rebuilt, and looks totally impressive and dangerous again.

One detail – they left the bullet holes intact in the conning tower, so that it looks like it was freshly captured.
Via: Flickr Title: U505 By: GinnyRED57
Originally uploaded: 15 Dec ’05, 8.51pm PST

THANK YOU JESUS

The Weavers did not win TAR8.

As had been predicted/spoiled previously, the Linzes won, the Bransens brought up a very tight second, the Weavers finished dead last.

According to TWOP, God got out of His Tub to fill in for Miss Alli’s mini-recap while she’s off in New York whooping it up and being thankful the Weavers lost.

25 Days, 50 Cities, and More Than 600 Consecutive Hours as a Family…
By God | Season 8 | Episode 11 | Aired on 2005.12.13

Oh my Self, if the Weavers got My ass out of a hot tub ONCE MORE, I don’t know WHAT. “Please let us find the boat,” “please find us a good cab,” wah wah wah, me me me, BITCH PLEASE. I’ve got WARS going on belowdecks, My Only Son’s birthday is in less than TWO WEEKS and He’s IMPOSSIBLE to shop for, and I am STILL apologizing for circus peanuts and the jackelope — I’ve got nothing better to do than win a reality show for THAT squad of hypocrites? Oh HELL no, children of the earth.

So, I arranged for the Linzes to win. They seem like nice people, they ran a good race, and best of all, they didn’t ask Me for shit, just did their thing and did it well. And then I had the Bransens come in second, because ditto. And then the Weavers came in third, which is more than their asses deserve for abusing their relationship with Me for material gain, but the Holy Ghost wears his Free Rolly pin around everywhere and I just didn’t have the heart.

I’m going back to my lavender bubbles now. Anyone needs a list of the Great Lakes, call me, LINDA.

The final task was a geography one; one family member had to assemble a puzzle map of North America, from northernmost Canada to the end of the Isthmus of Panama. As about 3 dozen posters on TWOP alredy noted, with a final task like that, “The Weavers were screwed!!!” Remember, these kids were homeschooled by Linda, who thought Lake Pontchartrain was one of the Great Lakes, and wondered whether Pennsylvania was a state, among other gaffes.

The Linz boy and Wally Bransen rocked the puzzle task, but the Weaver who took the task was not shown. Because this family has been humiliating itself over matters of geography all season long, the producers probably felt that giving them the Guido edit while (probably Rolly or Linda) tried to figure out how to put everything other than Florida in the right place would be overkill.

And I have my doubts about whether they would have tried to place Florida in the middle of Lake Michigan, because they’re kinda the same shape and there’s water involved and all.

Anyway, thanks be to God.

United Federation of Hurling Cats

Ha! My monkeys left the computer unguarded again. Silly monkeys. I took the opportunity to check in on a few of my brethren and sistren in the Cat underground.

Caveat Lector | Good morning, housemonkey

Didi came in for her morning trample bright—well, dark and early this morning. Yawning, I got up to feed her, and check in by IM with a friend of mine in Australia.

Turning on the light, I discovered that one of them hurled on my winter cloak. Good morning, housemonkey! Isn’t it a lovely morning!

Good work, Didi! I commend you. I myself have had a few opportunities to hurl. I was unable to find a coat, but I did have a go at the living room rug (the nice soft one) again.

I was irked that my monkeywoman took my fishing pole toy away from me, so later on I left her a couple of messages in the front hall place. She had foolishly left my toy out on the counter, and then both monkeys went out into the place where the noisy moving boxes live. So I jumped up and captured the mouse that is somehow invisibly attached to the fishing pole, and took it toward the kitchen.

Suddenly, the fishing pole was chasing me! It wanted the mouse back! I ran up the little stairs and the pole stopped, but then I couldn’t keep going with the mouse.

So I stopped and chewed at the almost-invisible string and snapped it. The fishing pole stopped chasing me and the mouse.

In fact, the way the string coiled up begged for further investigation and attack, so I chewed it into several pieces.

Then the monkeylady came back and made very surprised sounds. She
tried to pick up all the pieces of string and she put the fishing pole away in the cupboard, but she didn’t know I saved some pieces for later, and left them for her to find when I hurled some messages in the hall. Ha.

The mouse is now completely mine and I carry it around as is my right. My mouse now.

She’ll have to get something else to attach to that fishing pole thing, but I bet she won’t leave it out where I can get to it again.

Standing Up And Saying The Right Thing

Okay this is going to be a really churchy post, and it requires a lot of background to set up.

Saturday, the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago called all the “assisted” congregations together for a pretty much mandatory meeting to discuss a big problem: namely, that the budget for assisting congregations that ask for grants from the Diocese was exceeded by the amount of requests by about $96,000. Rather a lot, really. Clergy and board members (it’s called “Vestry” if your congregation is a parish, “Bishop’s Committee” if your congregation is a mission) were strongly encouraged to attend and give 5 minute presentations on what we’re doing, and pretty much to justify getting assistance by demonstrating what we’re doing with it.

Holy Moly is an assisted mission and I’m on the Bishop’s Committee; in fact, the way things are going, we’ve got enough money to get through 2006 and then we’re done unless something miraculous happens this year. And frankly, there’s hope, because we members of the
B.C. have gotten energized by several events that we’ve attended or participated in in the last 3 months or so, and we feel like we’ve got a plan for energizing the remaining members and attracting new ones. It’s pretty simple: you have to do more to get more. We can’t continue to sit back and wait for people to come through the door – we have to demonstrate that we’ll welcome them and give them something to do to help people.

We’ve operated on the “Church Club” principle at Holy Innocents for decades. It goes like this:

  1. The first rule of Church Club is, you do not talk about Church Club.
  2. The second rule of Church Club is, you DO NOT talk about Church Club.

This reluctance on our part to badger or buttonhole people about coming to Church Club is pretty typical of Episcopalians: we often have a lot of trouble with the E-word (evangelism).

The point of Saturday’s meeting was for all the assisted congregations to get together, talk about what they were doing with the diocese’s money, and then do a sort of reverse pledge drive to reduce the shortfall. We started off with a pretty inspiring piece of news: the rector of one congregation that’s been getting a LOT of money the last few years (we had handouts and knew exactly what everyone else has been getting and was asking for) called the meeting organizer the night before. She said “If I tell you that we’ve decided to reduce the amount of our “asking” to ZERO, do we still have to attend the meeting? We’re going to take a leap of faith here.”

So – that reduced the defict by more than $15,000 right there. This put a lot of energy (and pressure) on the rest of us.

We went through the “un-pledge” process twice. Each delegation had been directed to bring all their financial information with them so they could quickly find something fat to cut in their budgets, or if there was no fat, figure out what could be cut and funded in some new creative way, or to network with another parish to reduce costs by sharing them. This encouraged a lot of cooperative horse-trading amongst the tables. Fortunately, the energizing events we’ve attended in the past year meant that we had a few “buddies” in other delegations – this would not have been true even last year.

Every delegation had to file a form with an amount at the head table, then by turns a spokesperson stood up and announced the figure and justified it, so everyone heard what everyone else was doing. The figures were tallied up and totaled to see how much the shortfall could be reduced. The goal was to totally balance it out, but in the end the organizers declared victory after a 2/3 reduction in the deficit. They felt that even though not all the congregations were there to represent themselves and offer a reduction to their “ask” amounts, our response was inspiring enough for them to think about going back to the diocesan budget and looking for more money for the assistance program and possibly ask the wealthier parishes to increase the amount of their pledges.

Then something really… galvanizing happened. In our diocese, support of gay clergy is really, really strong, because it’s a liberal diocese but also because gay clergy have been mainstays here for years in parishes, missions, and downtown. We depend on them and also a lot of churches depend on lay members who are gay. There are conservatives who grumble at this, but the position of the Diocese of Chicago is overwhelmingly on the “inclusive and affirming” side. This was made evident at the recent convention vote I attended as an alternate – gay-unfriendly propostions were handily swatted down.

Sitting at our table was one of our “church buddies” that we’ve bonded with in meetings recently – Randall Warren, our pastoral care officer from the diocese. He’s also running an assisted parish as a “one-day-a-week” priest, since that’s all they can afford to pay him. He came to Holy Moly earlier this year to run a meeting where we met with another local parish to discuss joint hopes, fears, and goals. That was one of those energizing things I was talking about, so we have a lot of affection for Randall. Also, at a service we hosted for Ascension Sunday last year, he was guest preacher. Let me tell you, he gives great sermon – funny, inspiring, eye-opening, and totally ex tempore. He’s amazing.

So Randall gets up during the post-reduction discussion session, after several others had risen to comment on numbers or whether we needed to get rid ourselves of the need for pretty “Church Club” stuff, and he raises the issue that’s behind a lot of our church’s financial woes: the gay clergy issue.

He said that although we had all heroically stepped up and reduced our askings by a large amount of money, that total amount was still less than the amount normally pledged by just one very wealthy parish that was apparently withholding payment because of its disapproval of the diocesan stand on gay clergy.

A huge and relieved sounding round of applause went up. Yes, we must stand up and speak out on this issue, even here in Chicago.

Boring? Sorry. At the time, this was all very inspiring.

The meeting was called by our new Canon to the Ordinary, Scott Hayashi. His position is sort of like a liaison to the people from the diocese. I think he was overwhelmed by our response to the way we were empowered to help work on reducing the budget shortfall for assistance.

I for one said in a commentary sheet that I’m actually looking forward to next year’s meeting, because I thought it was a really valuable and energizing experience. I got to talk a little about my Christmas bag thing for Holy Moly, and people from other parishes wanted to know more about it afterwards. I wanted to know more about some of the things they were doing, too – so it was much more than just a budget meeting, it was more like a networking lunch with math.