Pictures from Rally for Marriage Equality at Union Square in New York City ( NYC )

Me (Jon-Marc McDonald) at the rally with my sign. New York State Senator Hiram Monserrate was found guilty of slashing his girlfriend's face with a broken bottle and yet had the audacity to vote against marriage equality.

Rally for Marriage Equality Tonight in Union Square

Be at the rally tonight in Union Square for marriage equality. Starts at 6 on the north side of the square. Deets here: Rally for Marriage Equality

The God of AIDS

In years past I have never really given much thought to World AIDS Day. Of course I knew the disease disproportionately hit my community hardest but AIDS never really affected me in any meaningful way. In fact, in the twelve years since coming out of the closet I knew only one person to die from the disease and that was the year I came out. But thankfully – yes, thankfully – that all changed this past year.

On Christmas Eve, nearly one year ago, I learned that the love of my life had HIV. Just a few short weeks later I learned that he had developed AIDS. My world shattered, the firmament cracked and every notion as to who I was or what I stood for was challenged.

I was, whether I liked it or not, in the throes of the fight against AIDS and the fight for Ric’s life. I did not ask for this role any more than Ric asked for his disease but I’d be damned if I was not going to fight like hell for his dignity and by extension the dignity of everyone living with this sometimes rapacious executioner.

Ric’s case was unique, I was told. Many said they had not seen the ravages of AIDS displayed so pronounced in twenty years. Doctors told me to prepare for his last days, social workers told me to put him in a home, friends told me to walk away, family shook their heads in disbelief.

Indeed there were dark days. For two months I carried Ric to the bathroom, changed his diapers, fed him, listened to his delusions. Many nights I wanted to give up and walk away. Many days I cursed the heavens and raged at a supposedly all loving God.

No doubt many look at our life and see some divine condemnation. No doubt it has crossed the minds of some of you reading this that Ric and I would not be in the situation we are in had we not chosen the sin of homosexuality. The only reply I have for you is that of great pity. What an ugly, monster of a god you serve.

There are still others that stop short of proclaiming divine retribution but consider homosexuality to be sinful and not aligned with the will of God. To you I echo the words of Bishop Spong and proclaim "I am ready now to claim victory. I will from now on assume it and live into it. I am unwilling to argue about it or discuss it as if there are two equally valid, competing positions any longer. The day for that mentality has simply gone forever"

Instead I am grateful. I am grateful that God has allowed this disease to touch so close. I am grateful that I have been able to see the ravages of AIDS in all its raw, brute strength. Because of this disease I have learned compassion in the face of judgment, hope in the face of despair, freedom in the face of bondage, life in the face of death. I have learned that God lives in the heart of the wounded and broken, that his glory is etched in the faces of the dying, that his light beams from the souls of his marginalized creation. I have learned I am far stronger than I ever imagined, far more capable than I ever gave myself credit, far more resourceful than I ever knew possible.

God is in every crevice of this disease. He is in the t-cell, the viral load, the blood and the mucus. He is in every man, woman and child that has ever heard the words “Your test result came back positive”. He is on the death bed of every person that died alone, in every stitch of every patch of every quilt. He is in minister that embraces the afflicted, the volunteer that delivers the food, the advocate that pleads for more funding.


He is also in Ric’s prayer that he prays each night.

“They told me I was going to die but I proved them wrong, didn’t I God?”

To which the heavens respond “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”

Race to Deliver in Central Park 2009-11-22

Here are some pictures for the 4 mile Race to Deliver that I ran on 2009-11-22. I raised nearly 4,000.00 for God's Love We Deliver. Thank you to all who donated. Here is my official time: Jon-Marc McDonald - Finish time: 39:49 Pace / mile: 9:57





UPDATE: To see my results from the New York Road Runners' (NYRR) Holiday run in Brooklyn at Prospect Park, click here

From the darkness he prayed

I find this story poignant for two reasons. One is that I attended college in Waco and the only African-Americans I recall ever seeing were at a black church I attended a few Sundays. And the other reason I love it is that Sullivan references Merton, a man I have been fascinated by since my friend Christopher introduced me to Merton’s work back in September. And I am currently reading Seven Storey Mountain, Merton's autobiography, a book my brother gave me for my birthday.

The Oakeshott conference was quite wonderful in so many ways and I hope to blog about it soon. But leaving the rather poignantly named Waco International Airport, I came upon one of those little moments of grace worth passing along. On my way to the gate, the shoe shine man did a boisterous sales job. "You've got plenty of time, sir. Plenty of time." I brushed him off, but he kept at it. I find the whole process of a shoe shine faintly embarrassing (although it has its moments in a leather bar) and the idea of sitting up on a pedestal while someone bows and scrapes on your shoes ... well, it just feels wrong to me. Before me in line, Roger Scruton had sat there and been ministered unto and I had inwardly smirked (to my shame).

But the man insisted - he was African-American - and at that point my libertarian instincts kicked in. This was his job and my own snooty sense of p.c. amour-propre shouldn't get in the way of his making a buck.

So I climbed up, sat down, and by way of easing my discomfort, asked him where he was from.

"Waco, all my life, sir." I then asked him what it was like when he was younger (he seemed in his sixties, I'd say). He told me of a tornado, and of floods. I then asked him about segregation. He didn't hesitate to talk about it, but I could tell he would have never brought it up if I had not prompted him. Yes, he recounted the indignities, as he dabbed my shoes with polish, but without a trace of bitterness: of how he and a co-worker would have to enter a store by different entrances, how any hint of rebellion would be met with violence, how you had to keep your head down or "you had a problem", how certain neighborhoods were simply off-limits by day or night, how his relatives had been beaten, how he had learned to keep his peace and do his job. At one point, it got so bad he left for Nevada. But he soon returned.

I asked him how he survived. "Prayer," he instantly replied. "I just prayed. We all prayed. We're Christians and we prayed. Couldn't have got through it without prayer. And prayer for them too."

He meant, prayer for those who tormented him.

We hear constantly about what Christianity is, but it seems to me that this was as clear a statement as it gets. And when I hear some dismiss religious life, and argue, as my friend Hitch does, that religion poisons everything, I wonder what they would say to this man.

On the plane to DC I took out my Merton (I'm re-reading The Seven Storey Mountain these days) and came across this passage:

It was St Augustine's argument, that envy and hatred try to pierce our neighbor with a sword, when the blade cannot reach him unless it first passes through our own body.

The shoe shine was a Christian. And he was happy.

A man I am proud to call my friend

Corey Johnson, featured here on 360 with Anderson Cooper, is a man that I am proud to call a friend. He is also a fierce force in the gay community and has really come into his own over the past few weeks.


Today Corey will be at the White House to cover Obama's signing of hate-crimes legislation for Towleroad.com .

Way to go Corey. You make us all proud!

Hook. Line. And Simmer

So for those of you privileged enough to watch my latest videos, you know that in the first part I give a mea culpa of sorts to food stylist, Victoria Granof. The apology came as a result of her contacting me over a year after I made a video that referenced a Bon Appetit magazine cover that she styled.

In the video I said something to effect that the styling and the cover looked as though it belonged on the menu board (not bar, but I suppose I should enunciate on my, uh, video cooking show) at Sparro's.

Anyway, Victoria and I exchanged emails, I told her I enjoyed many of her covers and that I would issue an apology. She was more than gracious and said that she would post both videos on her blog, that any publicity was good publicity and we left it at that.

Well shortly after I released my video(s) I sent Victoria an email stating that my "mea culpa" was up and thought nothing of it...

That was until I went to her blog, www.ALongHotSimmer.com, and noticed I had been duped by the food stylist extraordinaire (after all, she did style the cover that won this year's "Most Delicious Magazine Cover" by the American Society of Magazine Editors)

Not only did she not put up my apology video, she put up my original video and wrote that I said "nasty things about [her] on [my]...uh...video cooking show".

Additionally, one of Victoria's readers, Martha, goes even further by writing

I think I need to say nasty things to you for making me watch that video. Euw! I was expecting it to turn to porn any minute.

So what's the lesson to be learned in all of this, boys and girls? Well, either don't say "nasty" things about a food stylist or if you do and that food stylist contacts you, proceed with caution lest the food stylist traps you like a big hot sticky mess of lasagna on a paper plate at Sbarro's.

On the Christ and Radical Rebellion

I do not proclaim my faith with a boastful tongue or heavy pen. It has never been my intention, as the spiritual path before me begins to wend its way through expanses unknown, to presume a tone of judgment or to cast dispersion upon those of different faiths or no faith at all. In fact, in all that I write, my prayer is that it will be received in the spirit that it is written – that being an essay by me, for me that I share with you not to influence or decry, but instead simply to be, in the spirit of simply being.

The idea that I feel led to put a disclaimer on my writing when the topic happens to be faith is a bit unsettling to me, if only because it implies that perhaps what follows could possibly offend. Therefore if what I write offends you, then my faith offends you and it is not my intention to, in any way, offend. With that let me get to my purpose in writing today.

Often I feel as though we, as the human race, would do well to suffer from a severe bout of amnesia as far as Christianity is concerned. What I mean is that both those that profess a faith in Christ and those that do not would forcibly have all knowledge of Christianity blotted from their collective conscience and begin anew without the prejudices and preferences that each of us brings to the topic from years influence by both supporters and detractors alike.

If we were to have no working knowledge of Christianity and, more specifically, Jesus the Christ, we would, upon first encounter with his story, be stunned at how radically rebellious he was, how profound his words, how compassionate when faced with intolerance, how gracious in the face of hostility. Even if we were to simply assume Jesus to be a great teacher – as many do – if his story had never been told until this very day, how utterly amazing it would be to read "Go and sin no more", "lest ye who has not sinned", ""If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor…" , "Father, forgive them…", "For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind".

If we knew nothing of televangelists or the religious right or religious left, if we knew nothing of the Pope or denominations or leaders reviled and revered, what would our opinion be of the matter at hand? Who would Jesus be to us? What wisdom would we glean from his story and his life? What salvation would we find, what hope, what refuge, what nonsense?

If tonight, on the local news, they treated the story of Jesus as breaking news, what would our opinion be of him then?

I dare to say that some of his most ardent defenders today would be his most vocal detractors and some of his harshest critics would be at his side.

The entire landscape of faith would be altered and humanity would never be the same.

But that is precisely what did happen. Blotted from our collective conscience or not, some 2000 plus years ago the landscape of the entire world changed – radically and unequivocally – forever. And whether you believe him to be a great teacher or a crazed lunatic or a saviour, his life – in the finite span of three years – radically shook the foundations of earth.

And I have chosen, at the very age of his death, to live a life so radically bound to his call, so inextricably linked to his spirit, so inexplicably in love with his grace that I might very well lose myself in the journey.

In fact, I'm sure of it!

Five 4 Ten

I have gone from my fundraising lead for the Race to Deliver to fourth place within the past three weeks. In fact I am around $2000.00 behind the lead. Though that sounds substantial, think about this.

If each person reading this asked 5 friends to go to my Race page and donate $10.00, we would easily raise the $2000.00 and more to put me back on top. 5 friends, 10 dollars.
Please ask as many people as you can, whether they know me or not, and see if they will help out. It would mean the world to me. And don’t forget to send them to my race page to donate.

Thanks oh-so much,
Jon-Marc

Jon-Marc's Deep Dark Chocolate Cheesecake PART1 and PART 2

The Naked Baker, Jon-Marc McDonald, makes his most famous dessert to date, a Deep Dark Chocolate Cheesecake from the October / 2006 issue of Bon Appetit magazine. He also gets naked and highlighted in part 2 of the video.

Part 2 and the full recipe after the jump

Deep Dark Chocolate Cheesecake Bon Appétit | October 2006

by Jeanne Thiel Kelley

In the '80s and early '90s, chocolate cheesecake was at the top of our list. The simple ingredients in this rich, dense version let a good boutique chocolate shine. Yield: Makes 12 servings Crust 24 chocolate wafer cookies (from one 9-ounce package) 1 tablespoon sugar 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted Filling 1 9.7-ounce bar Scharffen Berger 70% Cocoa Bittersweet Chocolate,* chopped 4 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, room temperature 1 1/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons sugar 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably Scharffen Berger) 4 large eggs Topping 3/4 cup whipping cream 6 ounces Scharffen Berger 70% Cocoa Bittersweet Chocolate,* chopped 1 tablespoon sugar Bittersweet chocolate curls *Use Ghirardelli 60%. Trust me! For crust: Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter 9-inch-diameter springform pan with 3-inch-high sides. Blend cookies in processor until finely ground; blend in sugar. Add melted butter and process until well blended. Press crumbs evenly onto bottom (not sides) of prepared pan. Bake just until set, about 5 minutes. Cool while preparing filling. Maintain oven temperature. For filling: Stir chopped chocolate in metal bowl set over saucepan of simmering water until melted and smooth. Remove bowl from over water; cool chocolate until lukewarm but still pourable. Blend cream cheese, sugar, and cocoa powder in processor until smooth. Blend in eggs 1 at a time. Mix in lukewarm chocolate. Pour filling over crust; smooth top. Bake until center is just set and just appears dry, about 1 hour. Cool 5 minutes. Run knife around sides of cake to loosen. Chill overnight. For topping: Stir cream, 6 ounces chocolate, and sugar in heavy medium saucepan over low heat until smooth. Cool slightly. Pour over center of cheesecake, spreading to within 1/2 inch of edge and filling any cracks. Chill until topping is set, about 1 hour. Do ahead: Can be made 3 days ahead. Cover with foil and keep refrigerated. Release pan sides. Transfer cheesecake to platter. Top with chocolate curls. Let stand 2 hours at room temperature before serving.

Jon-Marc discusses the Race to Deliver for God's Love We Deliver

It Drops in Two Days!

We are golden : Mika
by morg92

Beyond Me, the peregrination of a pilgrim

This was supposed to be an essay about my experience at Mount Saviour Monastery. For days after my return I struggled with the right words, beginning essay after essay, hoping to capture the essence of my time there. I told myself that I wanted to convey to you, the reader, every sensation and feeling that I experienced in order for you to fully understand how the entire weekend changed me. But then I realized something.

I wanted you to read about My weekend, My journey, My experience. I wanted you to be impressed beyond words by My words. Ultimately I wanted Me to shine through.

I wanted to write of the unspeakable beauty that surrounded Me and enhanced My encounter with The Divine. It was my intention that you know that I – Me -- was changed by the prayers and the silence and the moment of Epiphany where it all came together for Me. I wanted to write of the sweet smell of nature and the beauty of seeing a friend I had not seen in nearly a decade. I wanted to give you a glimpse of God through My lens.

And while all those things are true they are in no way Truth for they are in no way what my experience truly was. Unlike the endless church camps in high-school and junior high where I left “on fire for Jesus Christ” ready to “spread his word” and “get some people saved” , feelings that surely dissipated as quickly as they developed, I left the monastery with more questions than answers, more wonder than joy, more a sense of the Divine than a sense of My sense of The Divine.

I left tired and broken, with a paradoxically confused understanding that I will never arrive, that the thirst for God is an unquenchable thirst, that the more I enter fully into the presence of holiness the more sullied I appear. I realized that My mask, the mask I wear so no one sees the real me is so easy to wear but so difficult to pull off. And I realized that the first person I wore the mask for was Me so that upon seeing My reflection I would never have to see the real me, the authentic me that is still just as mysterious to me as it has been for nearly 33 years.

Ultimately I realized that I had to get off the cross and instead nail My mask to it. And begin anew the journey, ever aware that I -- Jon-Marc McDonald -- am just as much a mystery to me as God is to me and the more I explore the spiritual realm the more mysterious it all will be.

Renewed but not refreshed, faithful but not void of doubt, lifted but not buoyed. And above all else, seeking, panting, yearning to find myself in the presence of The Divine, with the sad realization that Myself -- the masked Me -- must die in order for me to move closer to the Porta Coeli – the Gate of Heaven – requiring even still the full understanding that the destination is as elusive today as it will be tomorrow and beyond time to the hereafter.

...to the East Side

So yesterday, the husband and I made a trip to the Upper East Side. As we were heading up the West Side Highway( pictured) I made sure he was certain that what we were going to get was there. I told him that I did not want to take the car out, drive from the lower west to the upper east of Manhattan unless he was certain it was there. And by it, I meant that it needed to be in perfect condition and all my requirements had to be met. He assured me everything was according to my specifications.


As we crossed from the west side to the east side via Central Park I realized that it was the first time Belle, our car, had been driven through the park. I had to take a picture.



As we were approaching 5th Ave, where the east side of Central Park begins (also known as Central Park East) I began getting nervous. After all, Ric has said and done so many thing over the past year, we might arrive at where we were going and I might realize it was all a figment of his imagination.


As we were driving down 2nd Ave (I believe) there was a very attractive man talking at the corner. I figured he was worth the picture since I wont see my soho boys for a couple of weeks.
And when we arrived, there she was, just as Ric said she would be. At the 92nd Street ASPCA, which by all standards has got to be the nicest, cleanest, most efficient ASPCA in all the land, our little girl was ready to go.

In keeping with our tradition of naming our dogs after the area from which they come, we named our 1 year old Cairn Terrier, Weezie, after Louise Jefferson on The Jefferson's.
Weezie on her first car ride home, curious she! At one point she rolled down the window. Thank God for child safety window locks on the car


Weezie was perfect but she stunk so the first thing we did (I did) when we arrived at the loft was give her a good scrubbing. She was having none of it.
It was like that part of the rodeo where they send all the kids out to chase the pigs and the pigs slip through the kids' hands. She HATED it!


After Weezie dried off and I took a bath I familiarized her with her new home.

Ric posing with Weezie

Me posing with Weezie just after I woke up from a nap (Pardon the hair. Mine, not hers)


Weezie with her new favorite toy on her new favorite bed, which happens to be ours. She slept with us last night. It was nice. It was just as it should be. We waited, Ric, my amazing healing husband picked her out, he did all the ground work in securing her adoption and prayers were answered.

Weezie loves people, other animals including cats, and is fully up to date on all her shots.

And I would just like to write a word or two about the 92nd Street ASPCA. I highly recommend anyone getting a dog who happens to live in the tri-state area to adopt from them. Not only do they know their stuff, while you are there you speak to a behavior specialist about your dog, you go speak to the vet about your dog, you get a bag full of goodies for your dog, you are given a certificate for a free follow up visit with the Animal Hospital on the premises. You are given everything you need to ensure that your new dog's transition into your home is as pleasant as possible. We love this place.

When Angels Sleep

As you may have noticed, my series Angels I Don't See, has not been updated in nearly a month. Though many "part"s of the story are written I have not posted them for various reasons. Interestingly enough, I have noticed a steep decline in my readership over that period of time as well. I suppose an explanation is in order. Many of you who have followed my blog(s) over the years know that I abruptly stop writing or posting without any explanation whatsoever. Many times in the past, it was due to a relapse or because of some other dramatic event. Thankfully this time my lack of attention to this blog has nothing to do with those things.

Over recent weeks I have been experiencing fatigue, the likes of which I have never experienced before. Doctors and therapists and other professionals who have seen me all have a name for it: Caregiver Burnout. In fact, one therapist, when going over a list of signs and symptoms of caregiver burnout, noted that all but three applied to me. The list, though not exhaustive, is as follows:

• Being on the verge of tears or crying a lot
  
• Feeling helpless or hopeless
  
• Overreacting to minor nuisances
  
• Feeling constantly exhausted
  
• Losing interest in work
  
• Decrease in productivity of work
  
• Withdrawing from social contacts
  
• Increasing use of alcohol or stimulants
  
• Nervous habits such as chain smoking
  
• Change in eating patterns
  
• Change in sleeping patterns
  
• Increasing use of medications for sleeplessness, anxiety, depression
  
• Inability to relax
  
• Scattered thinking
  
• Feeling increasingly resentful
  
• Being short-tempered with care recipient frequently
  
• Increasing thoughts of death
  

Since that time, all but four apply to me. I quit smoking a few weeks ago (not for health reasons, mind you, but because it was just so damned expensive. And yes, quitting has been hard). Since I do not work (though being Ric's caregiver is a full time job) and do not drink that knocks four of the 17 off the list. And the idea of finding a job is overwhelming (see sign #2). But 13 out of 17 is not good. And, for me, at the top of that list is "feeling constantly exhausted".

So, dear readers, this is not just a post about my woes and how tired I am. It is a request. Over the Labor Day weekend, two of Ric's relatives will be visiting from Saturday, September 5^th- Monday September 7^th. And I need to get out of town (or at least out of the loft), not because his relatives are coming but because I need two days of peace and quiet and they will be able to watch him during that time.

If anyone in the tri-state area or beyond would be willing to have me as a houseguest for two days, please let me know. Originally I was going to just drive somewhere upstate or possibly New Hope (I heart New Hope), Philadelphia or Pitt and get a cheap hotel room and do nothing but perhaps read and walk and be still. However, after much prayer and counsel (thanks, MF) and the fact that I don't even have enough money for a cheap hotel room, I decided to reach out to you, dear readers. Also, me alone in a hotel room has never ended positively.

Or, if you live somewhere far away and want to fly me, that works as well (I'm kidding. Ok, not really. I will take all offers. I am not below begging ).

I do have some requirements. What's that you say? Why would I have requirements after having the audacity to ask to crash somewhere for two days? Well, here's the deal.

I need PEACE and QUIET. I need a place that I feel comfortable enough to come and go as I please and can sleep (or not) for two days. If that place is in Manhattan, fine. If it's in New Paltz, that's fine as well. But it needs to be peaceful and somewhere I can decompress without worry that I am imposing or getting in the way. Also I am 6 feet 6 inches tall. So unless you have a long couch or an extra bed I would probably not be a good fit.

Another thing, I don't camp. What I mean by that is I would rather be waterboarded than camp. It's just not my thing. I admire those that can (LL and MM) but just like throwing a football (or for that matter, watching a football game), it is not something I can do. My idea of camping includes a concierge and room service (I may be on food stamps, but a boy can still dream).

It also needs to be a place where there is no alcohol.

I know, it's asking a lot. But I need to get away. And bonus for you. You will get to be with, and I quote, "the very famous Jon-Marc McDonald". What more could you ask for?

The dog that was not meant to be

Trotter, our precious dog, from 2001 to 2009

Those that follow this blog know that my series, Angels I Don’t See (AIDS), is only up to late January of 2009. As I have written before, the heart of the story has yet to be published. Much of what has occurred between January and now is truly astonishing and had I not lived it myself I would be hesitant to believe it.

One of those events was losing our precious and beloved little girl, our dog Trotter. She was the center of our universe and without getting into too many details here (that is a part of AIDS that will come later in the series) I was devastated and the day she was put down I was in such an emotional hell, the likes of which I have never experienced.

I decided at the time that getting another dog was unfair to the dog and to me. Ric was so sick and so incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks, so another dog, with all the unknown variables, was out of the question. Also, I was still grieving Trotter and the idea that another could replace her was inconceivable.

But as time went on, and Ric’s condition improved, I began toying with the idea. I felt it would be not only good for Ric, but therapeutic as well. Having a dog in the house would give Ric something to focus on besides the television and he could assist in training the dog and the dog would give Ric a companion in the rare times when he was left alone.

So earlier this week we went to a shelter looking for a Boston Terrier. Unfortunately, due to growing popularity of the breed we were unsuccessful. But as we went into the dog area of the shelter we saw a dog that piqued our interest. He was a Jack Russell Terrier, seemed sweet and, being the impulsive people we are we decided that, after taking him out of his crate and for a walk, we would adopt him.

There were many problems with this. The first was that the shelter was unsure if the dog was “dog aggressive”. While this should have given me pause when I heard it since we have so many dogs that live in our building, I thought we could train out the aggression, if such aggression even existed, of the dog. Inter alia, after researching JRTs on the internet I quickly realized that training a full grown JRT is extremely difficult, that they are lovable but stubborn and that they require rigorous exercise of running and playing outdoors.

Being Ric’s full time caregiver ( I do have help that comes in five days a week for a total of 27 hours, but I am still his full time caregiver) and given Ric’s dementia, I knew in my heart of hearts that the dog was not the right fit. But, much like a full grown JRT, I was stubborn and moved forward with plans to get our new dog, signing the adoption papers and paying the adoption fee.

Financially we did not have the money for the adoption fees and what would be a subsequent visit to vet and licensing of the dog, as required per the adoption papers. We also did not have the money for all the things we bought for our new dog and the things we had yet to buy that he needed.

Finally, after an email I received from our property manager that was curt and in many ways unnecessary, I determined that the only fair thing to do for the dog and for us was to cancel the adoption. Though the property manager’s email was unwarranted on many fronts, she did make some good points and, not being one to throw out the baby with the bathwater, I went to the shelter yesterday afternoon and stopped the adoption. I did so with a clean conscious since I knew that the shelter does not euthanize the dogs. I then returned home and gathered up all the things I bought for our new dog and, with Ric in tow, returned all the items.

Though these past few months has been a vale of tears, and though Ric cried the entire time we were driving to return the items, I knew that what I did was right for us and for the dog.

As my mother said, something better will come of this. Our heart, after all, was set on a Boston Terrier, and perhaps we will find one or even another breed that has a temperament better suited to Ric’s needs.

So now we return to searching for our new dog once again, one that perhaps we can adopt when we are financially on better footing and one that allows us all, including our property manager, to feel comfortable with our choice.

In the end, the adoption and subsequent cancellation, was my fault. I did not think it through. I so wanted a dog back in our lives that I was blinded by the realities that such a decision requires.

If any know of a small adult dog that has a good temperament around not only humans and little humans but also around other dogs and does not bark incessantly in the tri-state area (New York, Connecticut and New Jersey), let me know. Also we have a car and can travel to pick it up in Pennsylvania or Delaware or even Virginia.

A Host of Angels

Ric, holding a bag full of meals from God's Love We Deliver

As I posted a couple of weeks ago, I am running in the Race to Deliver in Central Park on November 22nd to raise money for God's Love We Deliver (GLWD), an organization that provides not only nutritious and life sustaining food for those who are terminally ill and home-bound, but has never turned away a person in need. Also, the food is delicious. You should see the food these people turn out. Ric is one of those people that receives such food.

Well, it turns out that many have responded to sponsor me in the race by donating. In fact, I am honored that each and every person that has so generously given of their hard-earned money has done so to help me achieve my goal of $2500.00. They are all angels.

But there are two angels that I wanted to address today. Two long time friends of my family donated the full $2500.00. They did so without hesitation and without question. In fact, on the honor roll of my race page, they elected to omit how much money they donated when in fact they donated the entire amount I set for myself to raise. They are angels for which there are no words. I would put their names here but have not asked their permission to do so, so I will just take this time to thank them. They are special people who have done so much for so many without taking any credit.

At this point, I am the number one fundraiser for the race, beating out both individuals as well as teams. And I am looking to maintain my lead. Though this race is not a competition to see who can raise the most money, I would love nothing more than to have the satisfaction of raising the most money of any individual (I am realistic after all. I know teams such as the MTV team and the Love Team will blow me out of the water as collective groups) running in the race (I will be walking by the way. I can't run my life, much less a race).

As an incentive to donate (no amount is too small...or too high), I have decided to shave all my beloved hair on my head if I reach the $5000.00 mark. And I will record the shaving for all to see here on this blog. Anyone who knows me knows that my hair is pretty special to me and the possibility of shaving it is a bit overwhelming, but the need to feed those in need is astonishingly overwhelming. I will also think of something else dramatic to do as well if the $5000.00 mark is reached. As soon as I figure it out I will let you know.

So, see that badge at the top right column (if you are reading this a few days after 8/02/09, the badge is at the top right column)? It takes you to my donation page where you can either safely donate online or download a form and mail in your donation. But please donate.

As a reference for what GLWD is, if you watched this year's Celebrity Apprentice, Joan Rivers' winnings went to GLWD

We Are Golden -- Mika

Since YouTube pulled the vid I found it on Dailymotion. Watch it. I luvs me some Mika and this is by far my favorite of his so far (and I have quite a few favorites

We are golden : Mika
by morg92

Love Today

Angels I Don't See PART XXI: Blood Angels

If you want to read the parts leading up to Part XXI click here for Parts I-XX

Part XXI: Blood Angels

Late January/2009

The day my father was to arrive a snowstorm was predicted up the Eastern seaboard. We were both apprehensive about this but my father, who has an SUV, insisted that he could beat the storm if he left early enough. Putting my nervousness aside I tried to get some sleep.

But as I twisted and turned all night I could only think about two things. The first was my scheduled court trial the following day and the other was my dad’s arrival.
I was nervous that at the trial the man who filed the police report would be there and ultimately I would have to explain to the judge the truth about Ric driving without a license and fleeing the scene. Points would be added to my license (I was not worried about jail since no one was apparently injured) and that I would be forced to pay hefty fine with money I did not have.

I was also worried that it would be my father keeping an eye on Ric while I was at court. Did my dad fully grasp Ric’s mental condition? Would he realize that unleashing a torrent of verbal assaults on Ric would be futile as Ric would not understand a word he was saying? Would my father be physically able to carry Ric to bathroom or pick him up if he fell?

All these concerns and more were on my mind as I tried to get some much needed rest.
Around 3:00 in the morning, after finally falling asleep, I awoke to the sound of a dull thud. Normally such a noise would not rouse me from my sleep but, with Ric in such a fragile state, I became much like a new mother who awakes when her baby so much as rolls over.

Turning on the light at my nightstand, I looked around to see where Ric was. He was not in bed, he was not anywhere in sight and our dog, Trotter, usually nestled in her bed at the foot of our bed, was standing at the door, something she never did.

“Ric?

Ric?

RIC!!!!!” I screamed, manically jumping out of bed and into the hallway of our building in nothing but my boxer briefs.

There he was, about twenty feet down the hall, in a pool of blood, lying on the floor like a limp doll. How I managed to hear him fall so far from our apartment is beyond me. As I ran to him, with his blood soaked clothes and blood on the floor, I grabbed his wrist for signs of a pulse.

“Oh, hey babe” he said, turning his eyes up to me.

“What happened? Why are you out here? Where did you cut yourself?”

“I came out because I wanted to go outside and see the snow.”

It was 3:00AM; he was wearing underwear and a t-shirt with no shoes or socks. Had he made it to his destination, he would surely have frozen to death.

“Where’s the blood coming from? Where did you cut yourself?”

“Huh? What blood? I didn’t cut myself. That’s snow babe. Isn’t it pretty?” he said as he began to move his arms along the floor smearing all the blood around him. “I’m making snow angels”

“Babe, before I move you I need to know where you cut yourself so I don’t do any more damage than has already been done.”

“Make snow angels with me and then we could build a …..”

Before he could finish his sentence I was already back in the apartment getting alcohol, gloves, band-aids, bleach and paper towels.

When I made it back out he was sitting up. Reality had hit him.

“Babe! I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding! What is going on?” he screamed.

“Calm down, babe. It’s ok. You just fell. Don’t get worked up and don’t scream. You’ll wake the neighbors.” I said as I found the source of what seemed like pints and pints of blood; a small cut on his right wrist. I immediately took his t-shirt off and used it as a tourniquet on his upper forearm.

Then I grabbed the alcohol and began trying to wipe the blood from the wound. After a few minutes of trying to get the small cut to clot, it slowed enough for me to put some ointment on and bandage it.

“Babe, I’m scared. Are we in jail? Did I get beat up?” Ric said, shaking from fear and the cold.

With the pool of blood still around us and the paper towels, gloves and bleach just sitting there, I pulled him close to my chest and held him, whispering “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I am here. We are home. You are safe”

“But I am bleeding”

As I felt the warm blood from his arm drip down my back as he was holding on to me I whispered again “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I am here. We are home. You are safe”

“But you’re crying. Why are you crying, babe?” he said as I lifted him off the ground and carried him back to the apartment with blood now all over my face, chest, hands and back.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I am here. We are home. You are safe”

After changing his clothes, wiping up the rest of the blood on his body and putting him back into bed I went back out in the hall to sanitize the area. When I came back in, I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. As I looked in the mirror, my face was crimson red with his blood. The only places on my face that were clear were where my tears had rolled down my cheeks washing the blood away.

There was nothing to be afraid of. I was there. We were home. He was safe.


PART XXII SOON