Sharing the Love

Ya know what's so nice? I love that we in the happy-go-lucky, live-and-let-live, life's too short subculture of the blogosphere have somehow decided that we can just give out awards to whomever we want whenever we want for whatever reason we want. I mean, in what other realm of your life do you just give awards out to people just because you like them? I think that's really nice.

I'm not going to mention how it saddens me to hear all the chatter about the mean stuff people say, do, and post about other people and their blogs. Why can't people just get along? See? I told you I wouldn't mention it.

So, with no further delay, I proudly accept this blogger award from my very own personal internet stalker, Karen, who writes For the Love of Pete. I'm sure if you saw her picture, you'd recognize her. She has an astonishing resemblance to a can of Diet Coke.

Thank you, Karen!

And now it is my pleasure to bestow this award on these bloggers:

Stephanie from Live. Love. Eat. I just read her blog for the first time today, and she's a self-proclaimed foodie who hooked me instantly with her gorgeous post about a martini party that I'm personally invited to attend. Too bad she lives on the other side of the country.

Twenty Four At Heart is another one of my newer, most favorite blogs. You've got to click over to read a very moving and well-written story about overcoming extreme physical and emotional hardships caused by an awful car accident. And then, keep reading more posts because you'll love the stories about Orange County and also the one about "hammer man." It's fun in a naughty sort of way. If you like that sort of thing.

And I'd like to give this next award to J-Lo from Almost Famous. J-Lo has earned this award by making good decisions, solving problems, and showing respect. I like the way she pays close attention to my blog and sits quietly with her eyes on the screen as she reads my posts. When she has a problem, she solves it all on her own. Plus, she just posted this great beach trip post that has me in it. . . so if ya wanna see my hot smokin' hard body in a bathing suit, head on over now while there's still enough bandwidth.

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This award originated from Memoirsofamommy.com.

The rules of this award are: SHARE THE LOVE!!! Share this award with all those blogs out there that you love. All the people who make you smile. All those that make you laugh. All those that make your day. All those that leave uplifting comments on your blog. **All I ask, is that you include a link to this post with the award and ask your recipient to do the same**

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Episode Four

Blessing #777

This little piece of paper:

I found this on Bossy's pillow the morning after she stayed at our house. I smiled, kissed it, and held it to my heart for a few moments. I then slipped it into my pocket and skipped merrily on my way. Fast forward three months or so. One morning, Giancarlo put on the shorts that I was wearing the day after Bossy was here, pulled out this note, and came in asking me tauntingly if I wanted it.

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I thought I had lost it forever and wondered HOW I could have ever done THAT.
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Willard

Rock Hard Muscle Men

I was leafing through some magazines at Borders the other day and imagine my surprise when I found this muscle magazine. I couldn't believe my eyes, so I called up my brothers and they said they just signed a contract to do series of covers and spreads like this one for a variety of magazines. Sweet! The best part about it is they're getting paid some serious cash for it.

The Apple Sticker

This morning I grabbed an apple, washed it, peeled off the sticker, and ate the apple. I then went throughout my day. I went to lunch, went to the movies, came home, made dinner, and then went to the bathroom. As I was finishing up, I looked down and realized I had an apple sticker stuck to my scrotum.

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Open House

Welcome to our home. . . .it's good to have you here! I've been guided through so many of your lovely abodes; I'm glad to now be able to reciprocate. Come in!

As we approach the front door, you'll see evidence of staunch Catholocism. This is also evidence of the compromising that goes on when you share your house with your Mexican-Italian in-laws. Let's just say I'm a bit cross about this cross.
As you enter the front door you look down a long hallway to the back of the house. All of the rooms branch off of this corridor.
The first stop on the right is the living room. Diego often says, "Come on, Daddy, let's go live in the living room!"


Continuing down the hall, to the left you'll find the Lladro cabinet. I'm told these porcelain figurines made by a famous Spanish artist are worth thousands of dollars. They are beautiful. If you like that sort of thing.To the right you'll find the little courtyard and fountain. Remember way back when I was responsible for letting one of my dogs kill some baby bunnies? Well, they were born in these pots.
Further on down the hall, we have the dining room. The table seats ten comfortably. And you'd be surprised at how often we fill up every single one of these chairs, and then some.
At the back of the house you'll see the family room. . .

and the kitchen, and the eating area.
Outside the kitchen door is our back yard. When we moved in to this house, we tore out all the grass in and made one huge patio. It's an extension of the house when we have big gatherings, with lots of extra seating, and I LOVE that it doesn't have to be mowed, it doesn't turn brown and die, and it always looks good. It provides a nice place to sit and look out over the lake, and it makes me feel like I'm doing something to help the environement!
A view of the side yard shows that we haven't gotten rid of grass all together. After all, the dogs needed a place to do their business, right?

Heading back inside, we poke our heads into the in-law suite. It consists of a bedroom, a bathroom, and an office. This is the room Bossy stayed in when she slept at my house for 3 hours. She called it "magical." (Which was a nice way to say "overwhelmingly Catholic and who could sleep a wink in this room with dozens of pious eyes boring knowingly down upon you?")
Up the stairs, we reach another long hallway. Toward the front of the house are four rooms.

The laundry room,
the guest room,

Diego's room with his perpetually unmade bed,
And Amelia's room. I took this picture at 11:00 a.m., and she was still asleep.
Turning back down toward the back of the house, the master bedroom.
This is where all of the magic happens. And if by "magic" you mean a little four year old boy magically appearing in the bed in the middle of the night, every night, like clockwork, you're right, it is magic.
This is our sitting area with TV. My sanity is saved daily in this little area of the house. Without it I would end up having to watch endless cheesy Mexican novelas and El Sabado Gigante every Saturday night!

This is the balcony that overlooks the lake,
and a small hallway that leads to the master bathroom.

And look who I found taking a bath in our tub again! Silly Carrot Lady-Man.Thanks for stopping by! Wanna carrot?

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As much as you may dislike him/her, you know you're happy to see Carrot Man-Lady back! It means life is getting back to normal, at least a bit.
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ENOUGH!

ENOUGH with the most depressing posts in America!

Here's the sunshine and the good news. These photos were taken just a few days ago. As you can see, our little guy is doing well. He has gained a few pounds, he grins and jabbers, and he rolls around on the floor like nobody's business.
And, he got to swimming for the very first time with his Papa Dennis!

Family Tragedy IV

Nathan admitted to the detective that he had shaken the baby. Three times. And he went to jail with bail set at $150,000.00.

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The detective from the Special Victims Bureau interviewed both Amelia and me since we were the ones who took care of Elijah previous to his parents. After hearing what we had to say, he told us that they had stopped by Hilary and Nathan's apartment while Hilary was at work and picked Nathan up for questioning. They were about to give him a polygraph test when he broke down and confessed. They administered the test anyway, which confirmed the truth. Elijah's daddy had shaken him violently.

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We were surprised, but then again, we weren't. Our only point of reference was what we saw at our house---a gentle and loving father who showed nothing but sweetness and tenderness toward his infant son. However, we had gathered over the last year that Nathan never learned to express his emotions properly, and that on the outside he was quiet and mild, but on the inside there was something entirely different going on. Was it his upbringing? Perhaps. He did say that at his house they weren't allowed to voice their opinions and that they simply did not discuss things. Is there something else going on as well? Marital stress? Probably. Financial stress? Certainly. The stress of suddenly being entirely responsible for another person when you scarcely know how to be responsible for yourself? Sure. Put all those things together and you have a recipe for absolute disaster.

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That was three weeks ago. The D.A. has yet to present the case to the judge. We're expecting that he'll offer Nathan a plea bargain, but details regarding his actual sentence are unknown. It could be that he will be released soon after his sentencing. Or it could be up to nine or ten years in prison.

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Meanwhile, we watch Hilary struggle. She struggles to function. She struggles with her own mind, her love for her son, her love for her husband, and her anger and confusion and probably a thousand other emotions. She struggles to find a support group outside her family that will help her make good decisions and get through this impossible time. It is painful to watch.

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All of you praying friends out there, pray for Hilary. She's the one that needs divine assistance the most.

Family Tragedy III

The days following Elijah's release from the hospital were packed with a plethora of appointments. They were mainly medical and social services appointments. Claire was the one who shouldered the brunt of these responsibilities. These first couple of days after the hospital were very difficult emotionally for us all; for me even more than while he was in the hospital. Adrenaline has a way of keeping you going, and those daily trips to the hospital somehow held me together.

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But then Claire, Giancarlo, and I all succumbed to the stresses of the whole situation and we had a blowout of sorts. This pushed me right over the edge and I spent a day and half in the depths of despair, mourning the whole nightmare. I mourned for the baby, I mourned for his parents, I mourned for us, but mostly I mourned the destruction of this little family that we have worked so hard to help get on their feet over the last year. Just when things started to look up for them--they both finally got their high school diplomas/equivalency, Hilary had a promising new job, they seemed to be happy and adjusting to life as parents. That day I scrolled through all of my posts that had to do with them, starting with Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Nathan and Hilary, and the zany outtakes from that day, then the big news that came with The Jason Show Shocker. Of course with that came the grandpa naming contest and the results. And then all of the obligatory pregnant posts like It's Crowded in Here, and The False Labor Limerick, and the proud grandpa posts such as Our Grandson and I've Finally Joined the Cast. Then---BAM! It all went straight to hell.

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Hilary and Nathan distanced themselves from everyone. We rarely saw them, and when we did, they seemed to be quite emotionally detached from the whole thing. It was as though they were purposely cutting themselves off from the rest of us and from Elijah as a defense mechanism and a matter of survival. In hindsight, I'm sure that's exactly what they were doing.

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Soon we were contacted by a detective and an investigative social worker. They made appointments with us and we tried to carry on as usual, wondering what would become of our family.

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Then one day well before our appointment, Hilary called me and said a detective was on his way over to talk to me and to Amelia.

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The things he told us were beyond startling, but yet, in a sense, expected.

Family Tragedy II

That week in the PICU was nothing but questions.

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Medical questions: What exactly were Elijah's injuries? Will those injuries leave any permanent damage? Is there any way these injuries could have been sustained by something other than shaking? How long will he be in the hospital? Is this continual vomiting due to the injury or just because he's always barfy? How long will this IV be stuck to his foot? How much pain is he in?

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Department of Social Services questions: Where is Elijah going to go? Will they just allow Claire to take him, or will he be put into the foster system? Will he and Claire be allowed to stay with us in our home? How long before everybody's names will be cleared and removed from the "suspect" list? When will the state allow Claire to go back home to Nevada? When, if ever, will Elijah be reunified with his parents?

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And legal questions: Since nobody is accepting blame, how will they find out who did this? And when they do, what will the punishment be? Who is going to jail? How long is this whole process going to take? And of course, the most haunting questions of all: Who did this to our sweet little baby? Who could possibly have been so angry as to take it out on an innocent, helpless infant? Why? Why?? Why???

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And so began the overwhelming onslaught of medical, legal, and DCFS workers that were to be involved in a case surrounding a blue-eyed, bald 12 pound baby boy.

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In the hospital Elijah was seen by several specialists. The neurosurgeon and pediatric neurologist, along with the opthamologist, determined that Elijah's brain injuries involved an acute subdural hematoma, retinal hemorrhaging, and abnormal EEG results unrelated to the subdural hematoma, but possibly hailing back to a previous injury. Previous injury?!?! The CAT scans confirmed the existence of a previously broken clavicle. Further examinations were to reveal that he had most likely suffered a broken rib at some point in time as well.

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Each and every specialist agreed that these injuries could only have been deliberately inflicted, but that none of these were life-threatening, and we would only know about any permanent damage as the baby grew up, keeping a close eye on those developmental milestones.

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Our most immediate worry that never left our minds for a second then was that DCFS would not be able to approve Claire to be his caretaker in time, and that he would be put into the foster system. The initial workers DCFS assigned to the case did not make us any promises to give us a clear idea of what was to happen, so those first few days were nerve racking.
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Finally, Elijah's case was assigned to his current social worker. She saw how crucial it was for him to stay out of the system and stay within the family. She did everything in her power to keep the process rolling in a timely manner, and at 5:00 on Friday afternoon, just before Elijah was released from the hospital, she brought the paperwork granting Claire permission to be Elijah's caretaker. She also pulled some strings and made it possible for Claire to stay with her in-laws about a half hour away from our house since our house had not yet been cleared by DCFS, nor had we as we were involved in caring for Elijah within a few days previous to his injuries.

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After leaving the hospital, Claire and I stopped at Gelson's with our grandson to pick up a few things they needed. As I pushed him around in the cart following Claire through the aisles we mused at how surreal it all was. . . we would never have guessed when we first became friends in junior high, nor when we first got married, nor when we agreed to end our marriage, that we would be further involved together in such unimaginable circumstances.

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Family Tragedy

How do you put a family tragedy like ours into written words? How do you launch it into cyberspace without making it seem like sensationalism? How do you protect the feelings of others while still sharing a life-altering event?
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Time and time again, I've sat down at the computer to attempt to share with my friends across the blogosphere what has happened. Time and time again, I've clicked out of "create post" screen of Blogger, unable to do it. I think I'm ready to share now because:
a) So many of you have expressed such genuine concern for me and my family;b) I'm ready to put myself through this written therapy; and
c) If there is any way, no matter how small, that I could assist in raising awareness to keep this from happening to other families, my time posting on the subject is well spent.
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About a month ago, our grandbaby, Elijah, had a seizure while he was being taken care of by his father, Nathan. He called 911 after the seizure and the paramedics rushed him to the emergency room. Elijah's mother, Hilary, was at work. As soon as Nathan informed her, she called us and rushed to the hospital. On our way to the ER, I called Claire, Elijah's grandmother, to let her know. She immediately made preparations to fly down from Seattle, where she was visiting friends.

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After a CAT scan, it became apparent that Elijah had sustained a subdural hematoma--bleeding between the brain and the skull. Either he had a blood disease, he had fallen, or he had been shaken. We were all in shock; I feared the worst. While a social worker interviewed Elijah's parents, Giancarlo and I waited out in the hall, and remembering Elijah's unexplained broken clavicle from a few weeks previous, I knew that this was no accident. My insides twisted and churned as I told Giancarlo what I knew must be true. He did his best to convince me not to jump to conclusions, but this was just too much of a coincidence for me to overlook..Elijah was later transferred to a hospital with a pediatric intensive care unit in Tarzana. Nathan stayed with him that first night as Hilary had just started a new job that they really needed for their survival, so she went into work to ask for permission to take a few days off.
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What was mild-mannered Nathan thinking about that first night as he watched his 3 month old baby laying in the PICU hooked up to monitors, cords, and tubes? What went through his mind knowing that someone had hurt his child so extensively? Did Nathan sleep that night? Did he insist on holding his little baby boy, or did he let the nursing staff take care of him completely?
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Claire arrived early the next morning. Little did she know how the extent of further medical tests would change her life. Little did she know that she would scarcely step foot out of that little hospital room for five consecutive days. Little did she know that she would eat next to nothing for almost a week because the mere thought of the reality of the situation made her literally choke.

Today's Docket

5:45 Wake with a start, heart beating too quickly because of the day's upcoming events

6:00 Shower and dress

6:30 Gulp down coffee

6:45 -7:45 Maneuver down the 5 freeway to the Children's Court in LA with Giancarlo and Hilary in tow.

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7:45 Wander around the courthouse and parking structure to kill time, leery of sitting inside the courthouse for hours upon untold hours. Meet Claire and Elijah in front of the courthouse. Gush at his big grin when he sees me.

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8:30 Get in line to go through metal detectors. Unwillingly listen to the woman behind us in line:

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"Are you Christian? Well, I see the book under your arm, I thought it was a bible. I've got to get into this courthouse. I've got some important information to give to the judge; it will really make a difference in this case. They're accusing my daughter of killing her baby. Well, it was her boyfriend. The baby was premature and he just threw it against the wall. Killed it. They're blaming her. I told that judge not to let her go live with him, after all, he raped her and everything and then he let her just go right back into that apartment with all of those thugs. ."

I nearly put my hands over my ears and sang an off pitch, "lalalalalalalalalalalalala."

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8:45 Sit down with Giancarlo, Claire, Hilary, and Elijah in a giant waiting lobby surrounded by rows of doors of courtrooms. Watch warily as all manner of people who should have never had children enter the lobby area.
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9:00 Tell myself that I will not allow myself to repeatedly gaze around the room in horror. Promise myself that I will not listen to the loud conversations between court-appointed attorneys and clients that surround me.

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9:05 Focus intently on my book.

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9:06 "You've got to get yourself clean and put yourself into a treatment program or the judge will never let you have your kids back again. You've also got to get a job, pay rent, and function as a citizen who contributes to society."

"Ahhhh, man, I know all that shit. Tell me somethin' new."

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9:07 Refocus my thoughts on my book.
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9:10 Watch distractedly as three little boys run amok throughout the waiting area, no parents in sight.
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9:15 Refocus on my book.

". . . and then, she had the baby in the car out of her car seat, with a gun sliding around next to her."
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9:16 Get up with an audible sigh, angry that I have to listen to this stuff.
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9:20 Walk down the hall to the restroom. ". . . he kicked her so hard it broke her ankle."

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9:25 Return to my seat. Small talk with my family. Play with the baby. Wait.
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9:50 Continue waiting. Sigh while party after party are called into department 416.
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10:00 Try to read my book.
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10:05 Look up from my book as a five or six year old comes up to Giancarlo and demands his pencil. "Pencil. Give it to me! Pencil! Watch! Give me watch! Pencil! I want pencil!" Look around in search of his mother. She's sitting across the room, completely oblivious. Giancarlo shifts uncomfortably in seat.
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10:10 Refocus
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10:15 Gaze around the room, forgetting my promises to myself. Wait. Watch while more cases are called in. Wonder when our turn will be.
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10:17 Listen as a lawyer tells a fourteen year older mother of a brand new baby, "You are not allowed to EVER let the baby be alone with your mother. If you do, we will take him away from you. He can stay with the great grandmother, but never, ever your mother."

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10:20 Sigh. Get up and walk around. Play with baby. Get spit up on. Wipe it up. Smile. Elijah laughs at me.

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10:30 Pencil boy returns. Demands Giancarlo's stuff again. Giancarlo has never been afraid of a six year old before. He nonchalantly gets up and walks to the other end of the lobby.

10:35 Wait. Shift. Refocus on book. Sigh. Shift.

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10:45 ". . . you haven't done anything the judge ordered you to do, of course you're not getting your kids back."

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10:50 Stare around the room and make comments to each other about our surroundings.

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10:55 Wait and wait and wait.
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11:30 Giancarlo goes down to the cafeteria to bring food.

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11:45 Gulp pizza down, worried that our turn will come up while we're eating.

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11:50 Watch as attorneys and court workers begin pouring briskly out of departments, assumedly going to lunch. Ask one of the attorneys when our turn would be and listen to a distracted reply, "Oh, it'll be after lunch now. Come back around 1:40."

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11:51 Ask aloud, "These people get TWO HOURS for lunch?"

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11:53 Wonder what we're going to do for two hours since we already gobbled our pizza in a matter of thirty seconds.

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11:55 Wander around the courthouse and grounds and parking garage and stairs and cafeteria, again, trying to kill time.

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12:30 Return to courtroom waiting area. Go to bathroom. As I'm washing my hands, someone in a stall calls out to guy washing his hands next to me:

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"Guillermo, do you have a marker, bitch?"

Guilllermo resonds, "What for? Uh, oh. Right." He pulls out a black sharpie and passes it under the stall. Lots of rustling and movement comes from stall. I'm not sure I get what just happened.

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1:00 Small talk, waiting, shifting, focusing on my book. Read my book, and actually complete one chapter.

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1:30 Listen to Giancarlo's disgusted explanation of a t-shirt he saw a guy wearing on the other side of the waiting room, something to the effect of: "Searching for a Handicapped Girl. The More I Can Fuck, the Better--They Don't Put up a Fight." Shake head in repulsion. But answer him that yes, he really should mind his own business.

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1:45 Wander down the hall back to the restroom. Lift one eyebrow as Pencil Boy and his little brother (still unsupervised) pound on all of the stalls and stick their heads underneath to see the occupants.

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2:00 Wait some more.

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2:05 Look up from my book as an angry man storms out of the courtroom with his wife shouting, among other things,

"They take my kids away from us, two very capable parents, and give them to a foster mother who slaps them around because they ask for an extra piece of toast! Thank you, America! Thank you Mr. Schwarzenegger! Time for a cover-up! The system is failing and it's time to cover it up! I want my civil rights!"

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2:15 Sigh. Shake head. Put book down. Give up on book. Pick up Elijah, who has been characteristically happy the whole day, and walk him around the lobby.

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2:30 Wait. See man with obscene t-shirt from earlier talking to his court-appointed attorney. Learn that he is an alcoholic and he beats his wife and kids. Realize THAT was the shirt he chose to wear to COURT. Giancarlo tells the man's attorney that maybe it would be a good idea for his client if he didn't wear that sort of shirt to COURT.

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2:35 Giancarlo asks bailiff when our turn will be. Bailiff tells him there are four cases left, but he doesn't know what order they'll be called.

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2:40 Watch as another case goes in.

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2:45 And another.

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2:50 FINALLY we get called in. We sit down just in time to hear two things from the judge:

1-"The baby doesn't need to be here, and the relatives don't need to be here."

2-"Due to incomplete reports and lack of time,

this case will be postponed for one month, until August 14th."

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Try the Gazpacho: Single Sentence Soup

Each week The Jason Show sends scouts out into the blogosphere, scouring blogs both well-known and yet-to-be-discovered for those single lines that are attention grabbers. Single sentences that resonate for their element of humor, touch of the bizarre, or ability to provoke thought are prestigiously linked to their author, in hopes that viewers of The Jason Show like you will be able to savor a serving of Single Sentence Soup just as our scouts have.

"Your wait time is approximately 34235345 bazillion minutes."

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". . . nothing spells fun like a camera man filming your ass running around a grocery store."

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"There, on the couch where I left him, he laid, pants undone, with the Boob Job Girl naked and on top of him, doing her best impression of riding a bull, while giving him a personal tour of her plastic surgeon's work, among other things."

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"I have an annoying compulsion to identify the dead animals we pass in the road and/or by the road."

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"I change my sheets weekly and wear clean clothes."

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Agnostic Blessings, Episode Three

Due to the dreadful and depressing events of the past few weeks behind the scenes of The Jason Show, the producers have come up with a new recurring segment entitled An Agnostic Counts His Blessings. No matter how bad life can be, no matter how rock bottom you think you can sink, there are always those brighter parts of life that keep our heads above water.

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Blessing # 662

(Please note that the numerical listing of blessings have nothing to do with their order of importance---the numbers are sheerly arbitrary, and they will be large numbers since I'm sure there I have hundreds if not thousands of blessings.)

Seal

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I've had Seal's latest, System, on repeat for days now. There is something about his songs that calms my mind and soothes my soul. Without being sleepy or gushy, he's been there for me for years, during both the happy times and the sad.

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Agnostic Blessings, Episode Two

Due to the dreadful and depressing events of the past few weeks behind the scenes of The Jason Show, the producers have come up with a new recurring segment entitled An Agnostic Counts His Blessings. No matter how bad life can be, no matter how rock bottom you think you can sink, there are always those brighter parts of life that keep our heads above water.

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Blessing #104

(Please note that the numerical listing of blessings have nothing to do with their order of importance---the numbers are sheerly arbitrary, and they will be large numbers since I'm sure there I have hundreds if not thousands of blessings.)

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This birthday poem from Amelia

And for you fellow grandparents out there who can't make out the small print, it says:

"I would like to wish you a happy 39th birthday

Just one more year til 40, go ahead, shout YAY!

I'd like you to know, even though you're nerdy, you're appreciated

Whether your hobby is clogging (or be it blogging?)

I don't care if you're a teacher,

Or if your best friend is an imaginary creature,

Doesn't matter to me if you really ate bunny,

Cause your stories are really quite funny,

Your humor makes Elsa say "cabron"

But I really think you're a "jamon"

Feliz cumpleanos to my favorite daddy

Who is really quite WACKY."
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Editors Note: By the way, you really MUST go see one of Amelia's latest posts to her blog, The Eccentric Observations of Amelia. You'll be so proud of her!

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Agnostic Blessings, Episode One

Due to the dreadful and depressing events of the past few weeks behind the scenes of The Jason Show, the producers have come up with a new recurring segment entitled An Agnostic Counts His Blessings. No matter how bad life can be, no matter how rock bottom you think you can sink, there are always those brighter parts of life that keep our heads above water.
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Blessing #497

(Please note that the numerical listing of blessings have nothing to do with their order of importance---the numbers are sheerly arbitrary, and they will be large numbers since I'm sure there I have hundreds if not thousands of blessings.)

Kira Joy

Kira is my sister-in-law. She married my youngest brother, Paul. Paul was twelve when my mom died, and after some floundering he came to SoCal to finish his last two years of high school with us. We spent so many years worried about him, and how he would adjust without Mom, having to live those most difficult and crucial teen years without her. Paul is a great guy and made good choices all those growing up years in spite of his obstacles. Then he married Kira. She is amazing; I couldn't have picked out a better wife for him if I had tried.

Yesterday she emailed me a heartfelt message that meant so much to me. Here is an exerpt:

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"You words have given me a laugh or touched me during some of really tough times. You don't even know my family but you are so kind to them. You have had some beautifully tender words of advice for my sister during some of her darkest days. You doted on and entertained Paul and I when we came to visit. You really impress me, Jason. I do not think I could ask for a better brother-in-law. Paul could talk about you for hours and how grateful he is for you and the time he spent with you and your family."

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And then

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"I feel like I owe you so much for being such a large part of my life over the past couple years, and here you are suffering and I feel so helpless. I know you have heard it a thousands times from everyone, but please let us know what we can do for you, or anyone. Really, even you just feel like Amelia needs to get away for a while, just ask, we will fly her out and dote on her (do you think she wants to go to the Family Reunion with us? We are picking up your dad on the way... :D), seriously. Let us know. We would be thrilled to do anything for you."

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You can see why I count her as one of my best blessings.
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Places You Never Expect to Go

Twin Towers Correctional Facility

Approaching the facility, several bail bond advertisements were thrust in my face. "Ya wanna bail 'em out? Good deals on bail bonds." Staring up at the towers that I've only seen on TV felt surreal, and waiting in the huge waiting area to visit an inmate I was surrounded by people that seemed accustomed to it, like it was just a regular part of life. There were lots of pregnant teenagers. There were quite a few kids there to visit their incarcerated fathers. And I've come to realize that anyone who works in a jail/prison is manditorily grumpy and abrupt. Probably by necessity. My favorite thing was the looped recorded announcement: "Do NOT approach the window until your it is your turn. Do NOT approch the guards. Do NOT ask any questions."



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Pitchess Correctional Facility

How many times have I driven past this place? Not once did I ever think, "Hmm, maybe I'll have to go to this place some day to visit someone who has played an important role in my life."


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Northridge Mental Hospital

Along with a couple of other behavioral health facilities, I almost think that this place is worse than jail. My feelings of hopelessness, confusion, and desperation were certainly worse when I visited.


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Pediatric Intensive Care Unit

To me, this was a place of hope. Albeit highly distressing to have a little one in the ICU, being surrounded by kind, caring, gentle medical staff makes the load a whole lot easier to bear.



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Los Angeles Childrens' Court

We had been here once before, only for a very happy reason. This is where Diego's adoption became final. We gathered together happily in the court room, court workers cried, the judge said kind and meaningful words, we took pictures, and all those in the court room applauded when it was finished, everyone beaming.



But this time I felt surrounded by people who should never have had children, people who neglect and hurt their kids. Why does God allow beautiful, innocent infants into the lives of people who don't even know how to care for themselves, let alone anyone else? It's just not right. And a huge reason for me to further consider atheism.


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Los Angeles County Crime Lab

Have you ever taken a loved one to have a lie detector test? Well, that's not fun either. Fortunately, this loved one of mine passed.

If only that were the end of the problems.


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The Curious Incident of the Squirrel, the Tricycle, and the Cinderblock

This is a blatant, proud, unapologetic reposting of a classic. So if you've already read this post, and you don't think a good story is worth reading twice, then you can just click here right now instead. The rest of you, read on. . .

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This is the scene of the crime, with the victim's chalk outline intact. The events that culminated in this grisly scene are strange, but true. Who, really, is at fault for this ghastly crime of passion? You be the judge.
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It was Christmas Day, 2000, and we were spending the holidays at Dennis and Claire's house in Seattle. We had just finished our afternoon Christmas meal, and everyone had gone their own way in the house to relax and digest. Giancarlo stepped outside in the front yard to talk on the phone. A few minutes later, the doorbell began ringing in desperation. I glanced out the window, and what to my wondering eyes did appear? Giancarlo, with a squirrel on his head! Claire, who was eating a dinner roll at the moment, ran outside and nervously began coaxing the squirrel off of Giancarlo's head with the roll. Her coaxing was very effective. The squirrel hopped from Giancarlo's head directly to Claire's! Of course, she began batting at the squirrel with her hands and her dinner roll, and in turn, it swiped repeatedly at the roll. Realizing what the squirrel wanted, Claire threw the roll to the ground. However, instead of jumping down to the ground, it hopped back on to Giancarlo's head! In shock that this was happening again, he shook his head back and forth, screaming, trying to get the thing off of his head. This caused it to grasp even harder, digging in its claws. Next, Giancarlo attempted to grab the squirrel to pull it off, and, chomp! It bit his finger.
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Meanwhile, Dennis, Lincoln (Claire's brother), Hilary, Amelia, Rennen, and I were lined behind the safety of the living room window glass, observing this spectacle with laughter and amazement. Since nobody else made a move to provide assistance to the victims, Lincoln dashed to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of dinner rolls and slammed out the front door. Lincoln to the rescue! He threw the rolls down onto the grass, and after weighing his options, the assailant leapt onto the ground to gather his treasure.
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Whew! What a story! We were sure glad that was over! No, wait! It seemd that Lincoln wasn't about to let it end at that. He loved his neices and he wasn't going to stand by and let them be attacked while going from the front door to the car. Casting his eyes about the yard, Lincoln's gaze settled on a red tricycle that was rusting in the endless Seattle rain. He grabbed it and headed toward the squirrel. Looking up from his meal, he wasn't about to be discouraged. Lincoln hucked the trike, and the squirrel dodged it, barely even looking up from his dinner roll. He tried again with the same results. And again. The tricycle was too hard to aim, too hard to control, too hard to hit with. Then Lincoln spied the cinder block. He thrust the trike to the side and seized it. After one throw, the squirrel knew he was in trouble. He immediately abandoned his rolls and scurried to the driveway to hide on the other side of the car. Lincoln pursued, leaving our line of sight. We all held our breaths. After what seemed like an eternity, Lincoln calmly sauntered back into view, empty handed, with no squirrel on his head. It was finally over.
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It had started misting, so everyone came back inside. Amelia was crying because Lincoln had killed the squirrel. Hilary was laughing. Rennen didn't know how to react. And Giancarlo was in a state of panic, already looking through the yellow pages for the numbers to animal control and the emergency room, trying to find out if he had been exposed to rabies.
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After things calmed down and the weather cleared up, Dennis went outside to dispose of the squirrel. The photograph above shows what remained, a perfect outline to fit a perfect crime.
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So, what do you think? Who was at fault? The squirrel, for being so aggressive and, yes, even violent? Giancarlo, for being such a soft and easy target? Claire, for provoking the squirrel further with home-made rolls full of buttery goodness? Or was it Lincoln, overreacting with bloodthristy intent? Or perhaps it was us, the bystanders, who refused to get involved but gawked at the scene unfolding in front of us.
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You be the judge.

Wedding Commentary

People ask if we feel any different now that we're officially and legally married. In essence, no. Our lives really haven't changed one little bit. Except for the fact that there is a great sense of validation that at least our state government is recognizing that our relationship is just as important as everyone else's, and that our family is just as special as all the other ones.

As I was hoping to portray in the photos, we had such a nice, quiet, peaceful day together, just the two of us. We wanted to be able to focus solely on each other and the event, not worrying about others. And that's just what we did.

And a HUGE shout out to the West Hollywood city council and city hall employees. They were so warm and accommodating, full of affection. Their warmth added something extra-special to the occasion.

Then of course, this man, John Duran, is the one who performed our ceremony.

He is on the city council and has spent the last three weeks officiating for now hundreds and hundreds of happy couples. He's also become quite an advocate for gay rights and if you pay attention you'll see him on the news now and again.

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Last but not least, thanks to all of you for your well-wishes and congratulations and warm fuzzy stuff. As of this moment our wedding post had a whopping 48 comments, which is HUGE for little ole' may.

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(Giancarlo actually joked that the only reason I was marrying him was so I could post a blog about it in hopes of getting lots of comments. The nerve!)