One of my last memories of Menno House will be this:

A guest, one of hundreds who have passed through the doors of this place since we came in 2002, ventured up to our room (at the top floor of a four-story house--a place where guests are not supposed to be) and offered me a Mennonite pretzel.

Here's how it happened:

Jessica is cleaning the bedroom for the next people. A voice calls from the hallway.

Guest: Hello? Hello?

A rather bleeting sound.

Jessica: Yes? Hello?

Guest: Hello?

Jessica: Yes? Can I help you?

Jessica goes to the door, and opens it, revealing a tallish man in his forties.

Guest: Can I interest you in a Mennonite pretzel?

Guest offers her a bag that says: Martin's Pretzels. Jessica takes one, even though she isn't fond of large pretzels.

Jessica: Thanks.

Guest peers into their room. He sees the cleaning solution in her hand.

Guest: This room is sunny.

Jessica: Yes.

Guest: Guess you are cleaning up.

Jessica: Yep. Getting it ready for the new people.

Guest: Is your husband here?

Jessica: No, he's working.

Guest: Cool.

Guest leaves the doorway. Jessica, feeling bad for her coldness, says:

Jessica: Did you get those at the farmer's market?

Guest: No, the green market.

Same thing, but Jessica says nothing. Guest continues down the hall, stopping at each door, bleeting.

Guest: Hello? Hello? Hello?

He is Canadian. Anya thinks maybe he is from some isolated place with no idea how to interact with people.

The move is nearly completed! Two Russian guys came this afternoon and took the stuff we packed and lugged downstairs to Harlem, then they unloaded them. Of course, this was for a price, but we feel it was worth it. And, I've been told it was very cheap, comparatively. It was nice having others do some of the work. We're still at Menno House tonight and tomorrow night, but then we're flying off to our little nest in Harlem. It's painted a nice, sunny yellow and looks less and less like a dorm room as our worldly posessions march in.

These are the before pictures. We'll hopefully have after pictures.

Are humans just programmed to gather things? When Tom and I moved to the city three years ago, we did it all by train. By train. We carried two large suitcases, two small suitcases and two backpacks. And now we have a roomful of boxes to take to Harlem.

Tonight I went to the ER to have my jammed up hand x-rayed. The school nurse at SLC was so concerned by my bruises, she wanted me to come and see an orthopedic doctor tomorrow. I opted instead to go to the ER here. Amazingly, it only took two hours. A lot of sitting around with homeless men occurred. One smacked on a sandwich and slept, while the other slouched in a corner, mumbling. There was also a guy on dialysis, who had escaped the hospital then came back and was upset because the nurse was doing the tests and vitals again, since he had to be readmitted. Apparently, after he had returned, he snuck up to his old room when he was supposed to be down in the waiting room to get his stuff and waited on the bed for security.

Everyone was very nice there. It's Catholic, so I have to thank St. Vincent for this.

But, the x-ray came out fine. No broken bones or splinters. Just a lot of swelling and bruising. What's great is with Aetna, this sort of thing is mostly paid for, unlike other nameless insurance companies. Otherwise, I just would have dealt with it and hope that nothing really bad happened.

And that's what so many of us do in these United States.

I fell today and jammed my fingers on my right hand. Ouch. Serious ouch. So you should be proud of my feeble typing. Tom and I were good consumers today. We bought a little kitchen cart thing on wheels, some CD books for Tom to put his rather large collection in, a new cell phone for Tom (he bumped into something at work and busted it), this little carpet swiffer thing, a bookcase that folds up into a thin board. We felt horrible about it, but felt that we at least felt proud of our non-purchase of a very nice, comfortable Sealy Posturepedic mattress, box and frame, which we found lounging not fifty feet from our front door, waiting for the garbage man. We had just been about to call and order one for delivery! So, the mattress gods were looking out for us.

Faith is a weird thing. You can't feel it in any way other than spiritual. Yet people have fought, killed and died for it for who knows how long. It is not something you can put in easy terms, though many who have faith try to do so. They take their god and put this god into little boxes and yet claim the greatness and powerfulness of said god. I suppose I do it too. It seems a human reaction, to believe what makes us feel safe and empowered, whether one is Left, Right or in between. A giant god that goes beyond understanding in simple terms as touch, taste, smell and feel is frightening. There must be rules and regulations to this god:


I. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.
III. Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain.
IV. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
V. Honour thy father and thy mother.
VI. Thou shalt not kill.
VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
VIII. Thou shalt not steal.
IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.
X. Thou shalt not covet any thing that is thy neighbour's.

I'm not saying in listing those that I'm against the TC. I guess I could be saying that the main message of God here is: do not hurt people, and you shall be blessed. Now, how one interprets these commandments is the issue. I will not pretend to know an exact science for interpretation, since I don't believe in the exact science anyway.

Now, the Beatitudes:

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are the meek,
for they shall possess the earth.

Blessed are they who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful,
for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice' sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Once again, the message I read here is: people who don't hurt others are blessed.

So, that is my warped sense of faith, including both the Old and the New. I am not against people believing different from me--it would be rather frightening, in some respects. But isn't that what the US of A is all about? Supposedly. My family came here for that reason. So they could live their lives according to their beliefs. What I am against is those in power trying to press their beliefs on others via laws. Killing, lying and cheating hurts people. Does it hurt anyone if a man sleeps with a man, or a woman with a woman, as long as they are smart and use protection, which goes for straight people as well? I am surrounded by gays and lesbians all the time here in the city--even in churches I attend. (And I'm willing to bet that many conservatives are as well, be they closeted or no.) But as far as I can tell, nothing has happened to me in any negative way because of their queer status.

Sigh.

Well, Kansas has done it again. It's officialy banned gay marriage in that state, marrying itself with the Right and coming closer closer to fusing religion and government. Never mind the extra, now possible, consequences towards the end of employers having health benefits to domestic partners, gay or straight. I read about a judge in a GMB state (I believe in the Chicago Times) threw out a domestic abuse case because the (straight) couple wasn't married. Count one towards continued violence towards people in general.

Count two towards thousands of people denied health insurance, simply because of who they are. Poor, minorities, the elderly, the disabled and now lesbians and gay men.

Never mind the idea of banning marriage towards a certain population is just damn ridiculous. Frankly, I am embarrassed as a religious person. The words of Christ are so ignored: love your enemy (but allow Christians to be a part of the military machine), etc., but good heavens let's pay attention to a few lines in the Old Testament and Paul's testaments and show these gays who's boss around here. Of course, I don't see a whole lot of christians paying attention to all the commands about mixing cloth and allowing stoning of children and the fact that Bible characters thought of their multiple wives as chattel. And the lines about slavery. That that's okay according to these people. These were reasons not too long ago that allowed for segregation, the right for women to vote, etc. in this country. Heck, the lines concerning women in ministry are brought up time and time again. And there still is segregation in this world today, often done by so-called Christians. Just in more muted (therefore more insidious) terms.

I'm sure some of my logic doesn't make sense. Maybe none of it. But things like a man turning back to a river of ice to save his oppressor from drowning--and then being killed for that "mistake" doesn't make sense either.

All I know is, there are people I love and respect who have better, more committed relationships than some straight couples I know, will bear the brunt of this kind of idiocy. That straights who kill, molest, abuse, steal, lie and cheat are allowed to marry because they are a certain "class" of people.

Since I wrote last, life has come up with insane things for me and Tom and The Apartment.

The Apartment was not ready for us on the 23rd, because of a chipped bathtub. Which, in theory, is a good thing, that the apartment people are that concerned with our well-being as to a bathtub. The downside to this was the fact that we had planned to go to VA to get our stuff left behind three years ago this most recent weekend and drop it off at The Apartment, and apparently it is illegal for apartment owners to give out the keys until all is ready. Tom and I talked to Lowell, our Menno House manager, and he OK'd us to keep the stuff here until whenever we moved everything out.

All seemed well, until:

Tom and I had planned to rent a minivan here and drive it to VA, pick up said stuff, and return to the city to drop it off at MH. I read in fine print that if the person renting the vehicle (me, with my credit card), was not the one driving, the alternate driver had to have a valid credit or debit card, but you had to pay a fee. Tom, who was going to drive, has neither. But he has an ATM card, which I figured was the same thing. But, it started to bother me Thursday eve, so I thought, heck, I should call and find out to rest assured. It turns out, ATM and debit cards ARE different. I went around and around with this guy. I can't even imagine how many minutes I wracked up on my cell phone. I was like, he's my husband--we both pay the bills--I'll vouch for him--we can run a balance check to show how much money we have--I have epilepsy and an injured eye and can't drive--you're discriminating against me because of a handicap (this is probably the first time in my life I've used that as a way to get something)...

The guy on the phone didn't agree with the ol' epilepsy defence. He said it wasn't breaking the law for me to drive. I said, mister, do you want me, someone who could pass out, to be driving the FDR?

After this, the guy on the phone put me on hold for awhile and came back with: if you have a note from your doctor, we'll let you put your husband on as the driver without paying the fee. But he still had to have a credit or debit card.

So the epilepsy defense was moot, but I kept at him. It's after 5 pm, I said, I'm not going to get a doctor's note before 7 am. I said I'd bring my meds and a pill book stating the reasons for the med and show it to the guy at the rental place. That wouldn't work, was his answer. You could forge a sticker and really be carrying illegal drugs. As if it wouldn't be easier to forge a doctor's note! Me, the transit person for a drug ring?

At the end, I said bleep bleep! into the phone and hung up.

After a couple of hours of scurrying around, which included trying to get a hold of Dr. Liebsch, trying to see if Tom still had money in his Park View (the credit union he banked with in VA--I had an account there too, but refused a debit card, because I didn't want easy access to my money) account, which he had a debit card with, I had to accept defeat. In the end, Tom and I got tickets on the 3:45 am bus on Friday (this was at 8 pm on Thursday), rented a one way UHaul truck in Waynesboro, VA, stayed up drinking coffee and boarded the bus without sleep. The trip was 9 hours long.