Untitled #16: Rainbows and Postcards

[Side note 1:  If you haven’t noticed the posts that have untitled in the post name are usually the unformed or very short thoughts.  Perhaps, it’s those half-formed thoughts; thoughts that I still need to think about and process before it gets jotted down.  Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.]

If I could I’d insert that gif of a stick figure vomiting rainbows.  Or perhaps Nyan Cat flying with rainbows streaming out behind him/her.

Honestly, what took us so long.  Healthcare is for everyone.  Love is also for everyone. Period.  Oh, and yes, there is still institutional racism.  There’s still a long road ahead of us.

My niece found it difficult to believe when I told her that there was a time – not too long ago – that it was illegal to be married to my husband. See Loving vs Virginia. I’m not one hundred percent sure but I think Obergefell v. Hodges was one of the cases that the Supreme Court heard. Again, not one hundred percent sure.

Oh, if you haven’t read Justice Kennedy‘s last paragraph for this monumental case, I suggest you do. I did and of course, I cried.

Oh, and in case you haven’t noticed by now, my political leanings, well, I hope this answers your questions. If this makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to unfollow me. No hard feelings, our worldviews just don’t mesh.

Okay, in the meantime, I will continue to scroll through beautiful pictures of people getting married and get choked up.  Hell, just even writing that sentence makes me all misty-eyed  (You should’ve seen me at my wedding.  Buckets, I tell you. Buckets.  I have an amusing story to go along with it, but it’s best told closer to my anniversary which comes up in about three weeks.)

Rainbows. Lots and lots of beautiful rainbows. It’s not rose-colored glasses that I’m looking through they just happen to be rainbow colored glasses. 😀




My second half-baked thought has to do with postcards and writing many of them to a friend’s son who was so very sad that he wasn’t getting any mail.

So, what do I do?  I volunteer to send him postcards.  That’s what I’ve been doing for the past hour.  Not all of them have been to him per se.  Some have been to my friends.  Plus, I have to pick the right postcard for each person.  (Some of the postcards that I have are not appropriate for a five-year-old.)  Like the Death postcard down below. How do I describe Death without scaring a kid?  I can’t, not really.  Besides, he’s not my kid. That is *not* my responsibility.


Are you familiar with Sandman?  If not, why?  Stop reading and go seek out the graphic novels.  Go.
Are you familiar with Sandman? If not, why? Stop reading and go seek out the graphic novels. Go.
I'm sure I've added like five more to his pile of mail coming his way.
I’m sure I’ve added like five more to his pile of mail coming his way.

I wrote lots and lots of letters and postcards when I was a kid. I’d still do it today, if I knew someone would take the time to respond to me in kind. But hey, I know. Life gets in the way. I’m not mad.

Now, excuse me while I continue to write postcards, scroll through beautiful wedding pictures, and cry joyfully.


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