National Lampoon's Family Vacation

I am lucky to have grown up in a family that traveled. Every summer, my parents (who were not wealthy in the monetary sense) would take my sisters and me on trips to beautiful places, historical sites or the beach (sometimes all three) for a week or so, making me not only appreciate but yearn for a world outside of the small town where we grew up. I realize now, as an adult, that I saw more states and Civil War battlefields on family trips than most American children. And I am so grateful.

My parents have always appreciated the value of traveling. In fact, their first trip to Europe was when I was a year old and my sisters and I stayed with our grandparents for two weeks. I grew up watching photo slides of my parents' trip and aspiring someday to follow their path. When I was 27 my parents took me on a 3-week trip to Europe - driving from Paris down through the most beautiful areas of France, over to Italy, up to Switzerland, Germany, Luxembourg (because of a wrong turn) and over through France again. It was incredible!

Since that amazing trip, I have been lucky to have traveled all over England and to Austria. And this summer, I am going to Austria again to visit one of my sisters. While I'm there, we hope to go to Budapest in Hungary and Slovenia and Croatia for weekend trips. Exotic trips for such a frugal traveler!

I don't make a lot of money as a manager at a non-profit organization. However, travel is a priority to me, and I make room in my budget to make it possible. I realize there are others my age who have families to support and who have other expenses (houses, fancy cars, credit card debt) that make travel difficult. I made my choices just as they have theirs. Yes, it's easier to put a portion of your paycheck towards "travel" when you don't have a family to feed (the only one who suffers from an all-ramen noodle diet on my paycheck is me.) But, if my one income in the 1970s parents could make a trip to Europe work, so can you. Lack of money is no excuse when your priorities are defined.

I Love You, Man

Growing up, my family was very close, especially me and my sisters. However, we weren't one of those "I love you" families. We didn't really say it to each other, although there's no doubt we felt it (we're of German descent, what can I say?) I never doubted that my big sisters or my parents would go to bat for me at any moment during any conflict, and my normally calm demeanor can only be riled (violently!) by someone who tries to mess with my family (I won't even get into the high school drama or when my sister decided to play on the tennis team.) And then came my sister's two boys. There's nothing anyone in the family wouldn't do to protect them. All of us would risk life imprisonment or fist fights with other parents (or their douchebag kids) for those boys. And I could fill an entire blog post about comments my mom (Grandma) has made to baseball refs making "bad" calls on our two ball-playing boys. So, with my nephews it's different. We have suddenly become an "I love you family." Nothing against my parents and the way my sisters and I were raised, but it's a good feeling regularly reminding these boys (my nephews) "I love you."

As I get older, my parents, sisters and nephews mean as much to me as ever, but my friends have also become my "family," especially my Louisville family. My friends and I often say "I love you," (I've probably declared my love to more gay men than Bette Midler in the early 80's,) and it's wonderful!

A friend who I truly ADORE recently had some medical issues. As his close friends worried about him and eagerly waited for status reports, his partner sent a beautiful message letting us all know that he was doing better, our positive thoughts were appreciated and that knowing how much we love him was helping (or maybe it was making the poor guy's blood pressure spike... well, whatever...)

Anyway, the moral is, say "I love you" to those who mean a lot (friends, family, the Chinese food delivery guy who shows up quicker than Superman...) to you. What's the worst that could happen - it's one-sided? I can think of worse things than making someone special feel appreciated even if it does suddenly get awkward with your new boss or the guy who restocks the "Two-buck Chuck" at Trader Joes.  

Pride

Recently, I read an article (ok, it may have been a fortune cookie) about life being about the stories you can tell. So, as a reluctant adventurer who loves to travel but seeks comfort in the familiar, I occasionally try to push myself into new experiences. I'm not nearly as brave and thrill-seeking as some people, but I'm also not as sheltered as most. The things I'm most proud of (like most people) are those that involve me taking a risk and standing up for what I believe in. Last night was one of those moments, as I helped carry the giant, 50-foot rainbow flag (a signature piece) in the Louisville Pride Parade.

This awesome gig came to me because my "gubby's" (gay husband's) boyfriend is on the committee for the Pride Festival and needed some volunteers. So, I volunteered both me and the gubby for duty, not fully realizing the magnitude of responsibility and media coverage we would receive. I often talk about my gay husband, gay friends and issues that affect these people who I appreciate so much, so obviously I feel really strongly about protecting their rights. My gubby and I have been best friends since college when he was "straight" (he hadn't yet come out) and when I moved to Louisville without knowing anyone, basically, and many of the first friends I made were gay people who accepted me as a newcomer and have been great friends ever since. The least I can do to pay back my community (that includes some of my closest friends) is to stand in support of them and their right to love who their heart chooses.

As a straight girl in the center of the biggest gay event all year, I assume that people will think I'm gay. Actually, this was part of the experience for me. Sure, I saw a lot of parade participants with a t-shirt proclaiming, "Straight, but not narrow," as in "narrow minded." Although I appreciate their attempt in lending the "hetero" support, to me that statement further divides us. It basically says that lifestyle is ok for you, but I want everyone to know that it doesn't apply to me and that I felt a need to spell it out so you don't think I'm in that minority group/demographic/charity case that I'm generously supporting. How much do you really support "them" if you feel it necessary to clarify that you're not one of "them"?

So, when I go to work on Monday morning after having seen lots of co-workers and friends on the sidelines of the parade, and after the newspaper has posted pictures on their homepage of me and the other parade participants proudly carrying that 50-foot flag, I will still be every bit as proud. I don't need or want a pat on the back for being a straight girl "out of her element." However, I do ask that if you're like me, someone who wants to see her friends, ALL of her friends, enjoy the same rights that we have, you'll join me in taking a stand.

For Corky, whose path has opened my eyes.

Marriage Is Gay

I'm 33 years old (34 on Sunday,) single and straight. Unlike a lot of women my age (the clock is ticking, afterall,) I can say honestly, truthfully and with no bullshit that I don't really want to get married. No, I'm not just saying it because I have no "prospects," or even to make some radical statement about the constraints of marriage. Really, I don't think there's anything wrong with marriage or those who want to go down that path. In fact, it has served my parents, who married very young, really well for the last 40 years. I'm saying it, even though it's not a popular statement, because I don't think it's for me. I'm more than ok with that. And, as an independent adult with a full-time job, a healthy retirement plan, an active social life and no children, that is my right. Right?

Why should you care about my dating life? You shouldn't. How does my singleness/lack of relationship affect you? It doesn't. How does my choice in not getting married or having a family threaten your choices? It doesn't.

Then, there are my friends Erin and Betsy. They are both great people, two of the kindest I've ever known. They met in college and have been in a loyal, loving relationship for the last 15 or so years. A few years ago, in front of their two incredible children, Erin and Betsy got married in one of the few states that allows same-sex marriage. And, aside from my parents, they have one of the happiest, most normal families I know. They are adoring, patient and incredibly nurturing parents, the kind I'd want to be if I were a mom.

Why should you care about their relationship? You shouldn't, other than to envy the love and loyalty they have. How does their family affect you? It doesn't, other than to relate to the joys and challenges of raising kids in a modern, loving home. How does their choice to commit to each other and raise a family threaten you? It doesn't. If your marriage or family are threatened by the love and compassion of another's, maybe the problem lies a little closer to home. Otherwise, why deny another human being the security and happiness of a family that differs from yours only in gender? http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/09/obama-gay-marriage_n_1503245.html?ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false

My Gubby's Big Day!

So, my gay husband ("gubby,") Corky, had a birthday not long ago. It has been a challenging year for the boy, and so Corky decided months ago that he didn't want to do anything special this year for his birthday, no party, no dinner with friends, no nothing. However, as his BFF and someone who knows him better than he knows himself, I decided that maybe Corky needed a little bit of celebration to pull him out of his funk for the big day. So, a small gathering of our closest friends planned to surprise Corky at the pub.

The "surprise" went off without a hitch. With a gay favorite, Ryan Reynolds (as the Green Lantern) balloon floating proudly above and an assortment of kid-popular candy strewn across the table, we made a nice little party out of "Pint Night" at the pub. And so, Corky started the night with a bang, and by "bang" I mean shots. Lots and lots of shots! Yes, teetotaller Corky drank enough to make a twenty-going-on twenty-one year-old Communications Major proud. He drank a multiple selection of tequila, Starry Night shots (apparently some mix of Jagermeister and Goldschlager - cringe!) and Three Wisemen shots (a lethal mix of Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam and Jack Daniels - seriously? seriously.) Needless to say, Corky achieved desired results (DRUNK) early in the evening. By the time we left the pub, his speech turned into a Keith Richards/Ozzy Osbourne PSA. He was trying, in his OUTSIDE voice, to make sensible conversation, but what came out was indecipherable slush. So his loving friends politely ignored the fighting urge to laugh uncontrollably (until he wasn't paying attention,) and instead nodded our heads in agreement at everything he mumbled.

You may not feel like it a month or even a week before your big day, but doesn't every birthday deserve a party? Everyone wants to feel appreciated if for just one day a year. And at our little party, a great time was had by all, especially Corky. Well, he thinks he did, as he can't remember anything past 6:30. And the next morning when I informed the poor, hungover birthday boy about what exactly he had to drink, a shocked and confused Corky replied, "Three Wisemen, I only remember two!"

And, come to find out, sometime between birthday shots #6 and 9 that night, Corky treated himself to the biggest birthday gift of all - he bought himself a house! That's right, lesson learned... your real estate agent should never be on speed dial. And although it has more equity than say, a face tattoo, that's one hangover he will be paying off FOR YEARS! Congrats on the new house, Cork, and happy birthday! Next year, the party's at your place.

March Madness

So, I normally try to avoid "March Madness" like a strain of Ebola, but this year has been different. Growing up, my dad never missed a minute of the NCAA tournament, particularly any and every University of Illinois game, much to the inconvenience of his household of all non-basketball-loving girls. My mom, my sisters and I never really understood Dad's obsession with the tournament or his fanaticism for his beloved Illini. That was, until I went to school at the University of Kentucky.

For those who don't, and never have, lived in Kentucky, it's difficult to explain what college basketball means to this state. As a UK freshman (even one who spent the majority of her time in the Fine Arts building,) I found out right away what it means while I was living in an enormous complex of dorms. And so, as any good Wildcat, I dutifully joined my fellow co-eds in the "party dorm" room (black lights and strings of Christmas tree lights strung year-round, a TV sound system that could be heard on all 24 floors of the building... it's the same at every school,) and proudly cheered my UK on to win the 1998 NCAA championships.

As my friends and I watched UK get closer and closer to winning the big game, it was decided that we would "storm the streets," running down a couple of blocks from the dorm where thousands of excited Wildcat fans gathered to celebrate. However, those of us wanting to preserve the memory in photos decided to stage the "win" for our pictures with about 15 minutes left in the game. That way, we wouldn't have the burden of posing for the camera while hauling ass down the street, whooping and hollering like wildmen among the flying beer and discarded clothing. And even as a NON-sports loving, "too-cool-for-school" art major, I can honestly say that this night, celebrating without inhibition with a couple thousand of my fellow UK fans (including the National Guard in riot gear) was one of my favorite college memories.

For my out of town, non-sports-loving (or caring) friends, this year's big tournament is down to the Final Four, and UK will play the University of Louisville this weekend. As a UK alum living in Louisville, this rare match-up of the two big-time rivals makes even me excited for the game. So, like my dad and everyone else (at least those with an ounce of Kentucky blood,) I will again cheer on my team. But, to me, it's not about the game or even winning. It's about the common goal and sharing in an experience, like I did as a college freshman, with my friends, my alma mater and my new home state. Okay, okay, it is about winning! GO CATS!

(And if UofL wins, I'll be proud of them too. No, really.... I get to hang out with friends, drink beer and celebrate either way.)

In memory of Pat Murphy, whose enthusiasm for a good celebration made a sports fan out of even me.

She Aint No Caroline Ingalls!

Whenever I'm tempted to say something on Facebook about politics, religion or bodily functions, I say it to my mom instead. Nothing offends that woman! Seriously, the cruder and more controversial, the better.

A few days ago, my mom text me during work to demand that I immediately google "Zum Bum." So, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I found out that "Zum Bum" is a freshening spray for "bums" (butts, asses, anuses.) WTH, Mom?!! Half amused and half disgusted, I texted my mom to thank her for the disturbing image she had now imprinted in my brain. I also admitted that her randomly "googling" on the internet was a scary thought, considering her bawdy sense of humor and precarious curiosity. This statement seemed to only inspire her. Then, I messaged my sister to see if Mom had shared her new "find" with her. Sure enough! And in response, my sister had suggested that Mom spend her internet "free time" playing online Wheel of Fortune or Solitaire instead.

As expected, Mom, laughed off her daughters' caution and suggestions. Instead, she sent a follow-up text proudly letting us know that she had just found out what "fap" means. Thanks, UrbanDictionary.com, my mother and her horrified daughters will never be the same.