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Showing posts from June, 2011

Gays, lesbians, and the question that pushes history

Should men be allowed to marry men? Women be allowed to marry women? I don't know if anyone should ever be "allowed" to marry. My feeling about marriage is as skewed as you might expect from a twice married, retired cynic. But that's the point, isn't it? Why should my feelings about who marries whom mean anything to anyone? Although I have no dog in this fight, I was thrilled with the recent decision in New York. I guess I'm in good company. Hollywood elites are twittering their delight over the news. Apparently Steve Martin was so enthused, he proposed to Alec Baldwin. My inability to get up a strong opinion on who marries whom doesn't seem to stop my state legislators from spending their time fantasizing over the sex lives of lesbians-in-love and gay men. Here in Minnesota, we're gearing up for an amendment to our state constitution to make certain the marriage of homosexual or lesbian couples never happens on our sacred soil. Asking

Another day in la-la-land. . .

Few of us afforded a winter vacation this year. The economy crushed our plans for Hawaii . We're not the kind of people who complain, however. The tulips were extraordinary this spring, and the tomatoes are budding early. As we say in Minnesota, things "could be worse." The problem is, they probably will. Like the rest of the nation, our state legislature is populated with people who don't care if government shuts down. Although our governor has offered concessions to the far-right agenda, the men and women elected by the Ipod addicted "Dancing With the Stars" gang are running with scissors and taking us with them. There's an election in seventeen months- -an opportunity to change the mood of this nation. I'm not sure Obama is brave enough, strong enough or convicted enough to raise a middle class in America. I do know, however, that his rhetoric is pure. I'm watching for candidates who won't leave us here; who care about this

Wiener ettiquette or, Ten rules to keep Mr. Wiener under wraps

You never think it will happen to you. You're out to dinner with a colleague; a 62-year-old balding clergyman you have known for over forty years. You know his wife, you admire his children. He's always been a little in love with you; you know this. Still, he's a consummate gentleman and you're always comfortable in his company. You're a little charmed by his hearing aids, and the way he snorts, ever so slightly, when he laughs. Then, after three glasses of Pinot Noir, he reaches for his cell phone. "I have something," he says, "I want to show you. A picture I took today. I get so excited when I think of you." Yup. It happened to me. Let me make one thing perfectly clear - I'm not the kind of woman men expose themselves to - in any shape or form. I'm no babe. I'm more of a dumpling than anyone's darling. So, if this can happen to me, it can happen to anyone. The experience made me wonder, what's wro

Kristine Holmgren's ebook flying off the shelf! Gotta Kindle? Get this book!

I always thought that mature men would make mature mates. I was so wrong. After my unfortunate divorce from my indifferent and distant husband, I convinced myself my romantic life was not over. I was, after all, only 50-years-old. My children were nearly grown; the best was still before me. So, like so many women singled in the 20th century, I turned to the internet to meet the man of my dreams. Okay, okay, okay - maybe my expectations were a little out-of-line. Nonetheless, I persevered. Years. Yes, years. Too many, truth be told. Some of us are slow learners. It took a while for me to get real about dating after fifty. But when I finally woke up and smelled the coffee, I decided the caffeine was no longer my beverage of choice. I decided to become a fan of cranberry/apple juice - and to walk away from the whole scene. But before I walked, I trolled the ponds for every available fish in the sea. My book is about my adventures in risk-taking, my courageous