Remember that lil' issue I've been struggling with in regards to not being able to format my posts in Blogger while I'm at work, because for some reason there's a setting on my interwebs securities that now won't let me switch to the non-HTML page?
Well, I am happy to report that I beat it.
How? I edited the template! Go me! While I'm busy patting myself on the back for this momentous happenstance, feel free to snicker behind your back at the way very small things can totally make my day.
Pregnant man tells Oprah: It's a miracle
Yes, reproduction IS a miracle, if you think about it. You take a ripe ovum, introduce it to a sperm, and if the stars align you get conception. Two sources of DNA that combine and recombine and start the cellular machinery that in time can become an embryo, then a fetus, then a baby, then a person, why, that's pretty daggone miraculous.
What I don't consider to be miraculous is that someone who had their boobs removed and who was on testosterone to help them self-identify with their chosen gender (and I applaud the strength it takes to do this, it should be noted) can go OFF hormones, restart their female cycles, and conceive. The girl goo and the boy goo doing their miraculous recombination is something to behold, but just because you LOOK like a boy and are pregnant doesn't make it a miracle.
Or am I being too harsh here?
More contraception choices for women 40 and over
In which the Pill, IUDs, and a "nonsurgical method of tube tying" are mentioned.
Like shoes, coffees, and hairstyles, women now have more choices in contraception. Guess the guys still have to stick with rubbers or the snip. Poor them.
Oh, and ladies? I totally recommend the IUD. Just about the best 600 bucks I ever spent.
Let's see, we've had talk of pregnant men and contraception - looks like we've got a theme going here! It's SEX! Woohoo, SEX!
When I was 14 years old and in confirmation class at church (the bottom line of which, or so it seemed, was to make you a member of the church so that they could send you your first box of tithe envelopes...."welcome to the church, now give us your money") the minister who was our teacher talked with us about ess-ee-ecks.
SEX TALK IN CHURCH! EeeEEEEeeeee!!!
He was very forthright about it, saying that sex was wonderful and fun and beautiful, but that it really should only be between people who are in love and committed to one another. At least I THINK that's what he said, because I stopped listening after the word 'sex' was uttered the first time. "Sex? Holy crow dude, I just want a boy to LOOK at me, maybe to hold my hand! What's this SEX stuff about?" I was maybe a little slow on the uptake. Even though by that time I'd discovered the joys of....um....self-exploration, I was not ready to imagine a time when I'd actually engage in sexual activity with a boy, so the talk of it actually being fun and wonderful was a show-stopper.
To this day, that's the one thing about confirmation class that truly stands out for me.
Maybe that's why at one time I thought it might be a good idea to become a minister.
Do I hear laughter? DO I? Come on, I would make a GREAT minister! If it involves talking with people and listening to them and helping them solve their problems and having cake and coffee at your parishoners houses on a regular basis, what's not to like?
(And shut up right now with your talk of poverty and exhaustion and stress, for I shan't have that sullying my vision of me as a minister, shining slightly in my beatitudinal persona, serving my flock with a calming demeanor that draws people to me and the church like moths to a pure flame of truth. In this vision I am a stunning model of ministerial bliss, untouched by the real-life woes of those who actually SERVE as pastors, priests, and ministers. It's my dream, you people leave it alone!)
Except, I never became a minister. Something about the whole denomination and theology angle put me right off it. I didn't want someone to TELL me how to interpret the Bible. I didn't want some doctrinal rules harshing my blissful buzz. I didn't want to have to behave a certain way or have to say certain words or have to kowtow to the bigger political realms that are extant in every established official denomination.
Which, perhaps, is why I stopped going to church. It just didn't ring true for me anymore. Too many rules. Too much infighting.
Plus which, by the time I could have gone to seminary, I'd discovered boys, and figured out what the confirmation coach was talking about, and that was sin, and sin was FUN, and a minister who liked doing the fun sinful things prolly wouldn't be that great a minister anyhow, so I became scientist, because as we all know scientists can be as amoral as they want as long as the lab data turn out.
Maybe once I'm retired and all sinned out I'll revisit that minister thing. The free cake and coffee still sounds like a good idea.
With that, I wish you a good day and a wonderful weekend, my internetly friends. All good things to you and yours, even the widdle dogginses and kittehs and whatever non-human beings inhabit your sphere of care and influence.