A Day of Awesome

Yesterday was an awesome day for a number of reasons.

First off, my friend Geraldine, who recently disclosed that she has a brain tumor, and whose resulting surgery yesterday morning was a complete success, DOES NOT HAVE CANCER. At least that's what initial test results indicate. And in all probability, according to her husband Rand, further testing will confirm this. This is FANTASTIC news and a HUGE relief to Geraldine and Rand and all of us who have been sweating this news for the past few days. I could not be happier for these dear friends. Here's to a speedy recovery!

Doin' fine!

In other awesome news, the Supreme Court saved Obamacare yesterday, ruling in a surprise 5-4 decision to uphold, among other things, the individual mandate. Being the radical, bleeding-heart, Obama-lovin' commie that I am, this is thrilling news to me. Very few were confident the law would be upheld, and hardly anyone expected that it would be validated on the grounds that it was: citing Congress's broad authority to levy taxes. Hardly anyone ... except me, that is. About a year ago, I wrote a Facebook post defending the constitutionality of the individual mandate using this very argument (because I have a clue about these things). This shows that a.) I am obviuosly brilliant, and 2.) The Supreme Court is obviously influenced by my Facebook posts.

And finally, yesterday was a very special day for Mike and me. Our four-year manniversary was a couple of weeks ago, but sadly, we were unable to celebrate it together (Mike was out of town). But what made yesterday special was the milestone it represented: it was the day our relationship became the longest one either of us has ever been in. Or, as Mike puts it, it's the day he became my "longest-running gig." So we celebrated last night as only we know how – with delicious food, wine, and dessert. (Also, with a cameo at a friend's graduation party, at which I repeatedly wished her a happy birthday, because I'm and idiot). 

One of my first posts on this blog was a celebration of Mike's and my first year together. I'm not at all surprised that we're still going strong, because everything I wrote in that post remains true to this day. What I cannot believe is that since then, we have already quadrupled our time together. Didn't I just write that post like last week? Our relationship has spanned two decades and two presidential administrations, and now two weeks into our fifth year, it seems I've been re-elected for another term as president of Mike's heart. (Baarrff). Seriously, though, no one has ever made me feel as special and as lucky as my Mikes still does every day. I could not be happier with my wonderful, wonderful man.

A couple weeks after we first met. Look how cute we used to be!

(For more fun reading, be sure to take a peek at Mike's take on the awesomeness of our day over on his blog. He's got some extra exciting news to share. Check it out!)

Happy Doughnut Day!

Hey there, folks! Do you know what today is? It's my favorite holiday – National Doughnut Day!


Like I needed another excuse – or any excuse – to swing by Top Pot Doughnuts (an institution to which I pay homage with the old-timey spelling of the word "doughnut").

As those who know me well may tell you, I have a bit of a reputation as a doughnut connoisseur (I may or may not be known in certain circles as "Uncle Donut"). So if you're looking for appropriate gift suggestions, I think this book would make a perfect addition to my library. Thank you.

Now, I'm off to grab a Maple Old Fashioned, which should tide me over until my lunchtime Blueberry Glazed, which will get me through to 3 p.m. – the Doughnut Hour.

Anyway, I hope that you, too, are able to get out and celebrate this special day with your friends and loved ones.

Happy Doughnut Day to you all!

Since You Asked: 20 Things You're Dying to Know About My Huge Family

I recently read that Thomas F. Wilson – the actor famous for playing Biff Tannen in the Back to the Future movies – no longer addresses fan inquiries about his connection to that classic '80s trilogy. Evidently tired of the same old questions, the actor simply hands out concisely worded, postcard-sized accounts of his experience as the McFly boys' bullying antagonist, and leaves it at that. Seems to me like a novel, time- and breath-saving solution to what must be a daily bane for him. And the reason I mention it is that Biff's FAQ-busting postcard has given me an idea.

You see, one of the first things people usually learn about me is the fact that I come from a rather large family. It is, quite frankly, the most interesting thing I have to share with others. I have four brothers, and twice as many sisters. That makes thirteen of us altogether, and yes – that's one big-ass family. 

Without fail, this revelation is met with disbelieving shock and awe. More often than not, it triggers a barrage of wide-eyed inquiries about what it was like growing up in such a large family. Fortunately, I love talking about my family, and I eat up the small-time notoriety this bit of personal trivia gives me among my peers. But there are times when the questioning becomes predictable, repetitive, and a little bit silly. And occasionally, the questions can get quite inappropriate, and even offensive, leaving me to wonder in what universe it's cool to ask about the boudoir habits and contraceptive practices of a new acquaintance's parents. 

Added to this are the subtly judgmental assumptions about our upbringing that members of my family have been deflecting since childhood ...

Concerned parent: "Oh, you poor child. You must be starving."

Amy (my sister): "No, I'm actually fine, thank you."

Parent: "Whatever. Here's a yogurt."

(My folks fed us all just fine, as a matter of fact. But hey, some people just want to save the world one Yoplait at a time.)

Anyway, that Biff article got me thinking: what if I just started handing out a list of short answers to the twenty most frequently asked questions about my big family? It could save us all a lot of time and breath, and hopefully dispense with a few uncomfortable discussions about my mom and dad's procreative business. And with the right amount of humor and finesse (and not a hint of sarcasm), this otherwise curt, self-important gesture would come across as funny and charming.

I think if I were to author such a list, it would probably read something like this:

1. Yes, we're all from the same mom and dad, and no, none of us was adopted. (At least that's what they told us.)
   
   
2. Yes, Catholic (East Coast). No, not Mormon. Catholic (West Coast).
   
   
3. Why yes, my parents did have A LOT of sex. I mean, they must have, right? They had thirteen kids! And it's my understanding that the more kids you've got running around, the more time and energy and privacy there is for that kind of thing. So yeah, it was basically a nonstop-intercourse marathon for them. Of course, that was never any of my business, but I'm glad you didn't assume it's none of yours. Thanks for asking.
    
   
4. Well, since you so politely inquired, my parents' views on birth control can be summarized thusly:
   
   
   
   
5. Yes, my parents did in fact plan to have that many kids. I know thirteen is a large and oddly specific number to shoot for, but my folks had a thing for tormenting the sufferers of Triskaidekaphobia. (Sorry, Mike).
   
   
6. I don't know if I plan to have that many kids. Or any kids at all, for that matter. Let's just go with whatever answer scares you enough to get me out of this awful first date in a hurry.
   
   
7. The age range is fifteen years between the oldest and youngest. And thirteen kids in fifteen years sounds downright reasonable when you consider that the first four had an age range of 21 months (in other words, four babies in less than two years). Yes ... my poor mother.
   
   
8. Yes, there are twins. Two of them.
   
   
9. I'm the ninth-born overall (the Beatles even did a song about me), but unlike the eight Long Islanders before me, I was the first one born in Vermont. And that's all that really matters.
   
   
10. No, actually, I can't name all my siblings. Why would you ask? They're just my siblings.
    
    
11. Okay, fine, I will name all my brothers and sisters for you, even though it kinda feels like you're just challenging me to prove that I can:
    
    (*deep breath*)
    
    MaryTheresaMauraBobbyJimmyAmyKatieTimmyDannyPeggyVirginiaStephenBrigid.
    
    Backwards now? Oh, for the love ...
    
    (*another deep breath*)
    
    BrigidStephenVirginiaPeggyDannyTimmyKatieAmyJimmyBobbyMauraTheresaMary.
    
    Satisfied? Good. Now please excuse me while I go and try not to pass out.
    
    
12. Yes, we all look alike, in that we all look like we're related. I don't think we're that difficult to tell apart, if that's what you mean. Like, I'm pretty sure no one ever mistakes me for my sister Peggy. And we all try not to dress in the same outfits. We do, however, all have the same freakishly large earlobes.
    
    
13. Yes, there was a lot of laundry, and it piled up quickly. But it was never anything the occasional match and can of lighter fluid couldn't make quick work of.
    
    
14. Yes, our house was pretty big. There were seven or eight bedrooms, but that doesn't mean I wasn't once sharing a room with three of my brothers. And there was only one shower in the house. Made for some fun traffic jams in the morning. My dad used to say that his idea of heaven was thirteen bathrooms, and zero children ... I think he was joking.
    
    
15. Yes, we ate our meals in shifts. But only to help regulate the whole pooping in shifts thing.
    
    
16. No joke, we went through two gallons of milk per day. High gas prices? Psssh. We were all about the price of milk (which, incidentally, was cheapest at the gas station). My parents thought about investing in a cow, but this one wasn't available.  
    
    
17. No, my folks were not rich. But only because they never realized they could exploit their kids for profit. They did, however, know how to exploit us all for pizza:
    
    

    

    Circa 1982, the ad says, "When we say we're a 'FAMILY AFFORDABLE RESTAURANT' we mean it ... Just ask Wayne and Ann Thies and their 10 children. Bring your family in and see just how affordable we are!" ... they went out of business soon after.

    (Also, no, we don't know the Duggars. I mean, we see them at all the big-family meetings. But we're not social with them.)
    
    
18. Yes, I am close with all of my brothers and sisters. Just like war or prison or jury duty, doing time in a big family creates powerful bonds that no petty feud or rivalry could ever undo. (But the moment one of them defects from Team Bieber, they should consider themselves DISOWNED.)
    
    
19. I don't know who the black sheep is. Why would you assume there's a black sheep? Does that mean the rest of us are supposed to be a bunch of cookie-cutter conformists? Maybe we're just a big flock of black sheep. And you know what? We're all freakin' delightful.
    
    (There are, however, a couple of proud "pink sheep" in the family. I won't mention both of their names, but, you know ... "guilty.")
    
    
20. And finally, no, we did not grow up on a farm. It was more of a compound, really. Sure, we grew our own food there, but we also stockpiled weapons and survival gear, and made plans to re-populate the world after the coming Armageddon. We only moved into town after the feds seized the place and indicted our Leader for tax evasion. I'm not sure if the end is still nigh, but with my family's newest generation now numbering 25 kids, the whole re-population thing seems to be coming along nicely.
    
    Anyway, isn't it kind of impolite for you to be asking all these probing questions? I mean, what were you, raised on a farm?
    

And there you have it, folks. Everything you could possibly want to know about growing up big-family style. Have any more questions? Feel free to drop them off in the comments section (no matter how obvious, assumptive, or bizarrely probing they might be). I promise to respond with only the gentlest of sarcasm. And if you're looking for more funny stories about peoples' wacky reactions to big families, check out my sister-in-law's spot-on blog post about being a busy mother of four. She is a riot!

Thanks for reading, folks, and thanks for keepin' it classy!

What's in a Name? A Big, Fat Typo

So I realized yesterday that a glaring error in this blog's display name had gone unnoticed (by me, at least) for several weeks. "Speak of fhe Daniel" is the jacked-up header that, until last night, greeted hundreds of new visitors to this site. It was, no doubt, a confidence-inspiring first impression. I literally effed up my blog's name. It's embarrassing.

Now, I know that I'm "just" blogging here, and that few of us are flawless typists. But this was more than some minor typo buried in the text of a 500-word post. It was my blog's name in its banner display – the sign that introduces this site to the rest of the cyber world. This oversight kinda feels like the Web equivalent of walking around for weeks with your fly unzipped and a giant booger in your nose.

I'd just like to say sorry, and that I sincerely regret the error. Or, in the estimable parlance of Gov. Rick Perry, "Oops."

I know it's not all bad. If anything, this mistake has convinced me that it's DEFINITELY time for some new glasses. (Seriously, it's been like five years). And I can also take a bit of solace from the knowledge that things could've been worse:
 


(And there's also this).

Anyway, this being the top-notch blogging operation that it is, my crack team of typo specialists has since corrected the error. It's like it never happened. Whew!

Thank you all for understanding. Hope this doesn't dissuade you from visiting again real soon!

"A Working Day"

Methinks we've found the perfect theme song for this blog:



Ben Folds is my hero.

Seattle = Emergency-Dispatch Nightmare: Impressions from a First-Time Visitor

There's really no better way to enjoy the city you call home than to do so in the company of a first-time visitor. What better excuse to indulge in all the local delights and quirky trappings of your burg than to show them off to an out-of-towner? New guests can offer refreshing insights into what it is that makes your city special, and renew your appreciation for a place you'd nearly forgotten how to enjoy ...

Curious visitor: "Hey, why's that wall all caked in chewing gum?"

Proud local: "Because it's Seattle!"

Yeah. This place rules.

Last week, Mike and I had the pleasure of playing host to our dear friend Belinda, who was visiting the Emerald City for the first time. By all accounts, her stay with us was a big success. The weather was freakishly pleasant, traffic was uncharacteristically obliging, and we didn't run out of toilet paper once (wins all around). We took in all the must-see sights, enjoyed some of our favorite local eateries, and snapped a bunch of great photos:

I don't photograph well in the morning

Nothing but the best for our house guests

The rent-a-car folks were PISSED about their vintage Beetle

Floating houses? The future is now!

Prepped for a day of beauty at the spa ... or possibly a chocolate factory tour. Either way, we both ended up with sticky goo smeared across our faces.

It was a real treat to witness Belinda's reactions as she took in the sights and, perhaps more importantly, the flavors of Seattle. There was, of course, plenty of basking in the scenic splendor that surrounds our city. Belinda seemed particularly impressed by the rows of snow-capped peaks that flank Seattle, noting that our home state's Green Mountains would be mere foothills in their midst:

That huge, floating peak is Mount Rainier. For a little perspective, it's roughly 80 miles away in this picture

And Belinda learned that when it comes to iconic landmarks, Seattle's not all Space Needles and fish markets. We also have this:

Doubling as Seattle's Gay Republican HQ

But let's not kid ourselves: This city's real attractions come in dessert form. I would be lying if I told you most of our itinerary wasn't planned around visits to places like this:

And this:

And not to mention this, and this.

For such a health-conscious city, Seattle is quite the dessert mecca. As a longtime resident of this Bermuda Triangle of sweets, all I can say is, thank goodness for its many steep hills. "No wonder you're all so fit," Belinda observed as I put away my eleventh doughnut. "These hills are just brutal." Word.

Anyway, one of Belinda's more spot-on observations about Seattle came from her experience as an emergency-services dispatcher. As someone who routinely directs first responders to emergency sites, she's developed a keen sense of workable traffic patterns. And apparently, according to Belinda, there are one or two kinks in the layout of our fair city: 

If you stare at it long enough ... you might get a migraine.  (Photo credit)

Unlike, say, Manhattan, with its rigid, numerically ordered grid, Seattle's street plan is anything but straightforward. If you ask me, it's more like an Escher drawing, or one of those webs spun by spiders on crack. I'll spare you the wonky details, but let's just say that to the unschooled visitor, these streets can get pretty disorienting pretty fast. To quote Belinda's professional assessment, "this place is ONE BIG CLUSTERFUCK."

Okay, maybe those weren't her exact words. But she did point out that this city is "full of emergency-services nightmares."

As we zipped across our sprawling cityscape, Belinda couldn't help but marvel at the confidence with which Mike and I navigated this jumbled maze of thoroughfares. How was it possible, she wondered, that we could find our way to cross-town destinations without the aid of GPS, or some kind of celestial navigation? Fortunately, Mike and I are seasoned Seattle veterans who've been working this crazy jigsaw puzzle for years. I suppose our ability to navigate the city with relative ease is one of those things we now take for granted.

This is not to say we don't hit our fair share of snags around town. There are times, for example, when just getting home can be a bit of an ordeal. You see, while Seattle is not without imagination when it comes to naming its streets ...

Not pictured: Ogre Boulevard and Gremlin Lane

... one sometimes senses that they're not even trying:

Not pictured: the actual city of Bellevue

This in-no-way-confusing intersection is where you'll find Mike's and my apartment building (you're welcome, Internet stalkers). It's tucked away in a relatively quiet corner of our neighborhood, and, as Mike recounted to Belinda, it often requires careful explanation ... 

Taxi driver: "Where to?"

Mike: "The corner of Bellevue, Bellevue, and Bellevue, please."

Driver: "No such corner, wise guy."

Mike: "Dude. I think I know where I live ... "

... And so goes the comedy routine that is describing our address to locals and visitors alike. Belinda was right – God help us in an emergency.

But thankfully, Belinda's stay with us was emergency-free. It fact, the entire visit was just about perfect. I'm confident her first impression of Seattle blew away all expectations, and hopeful that a few days with the city's two funnest gays left her eager to return soon. But until that day comes – thanks to Belinda's own expert observations – Mike and I can rest easy knowing that if ever there is an emergency, we'll be pretty well effed.

Thanks a bunch, B!

A Mother's Day Message

When I was in high school, my mom had a new ceiling fan installed in my bedroom. It looked exactly like this: 

(Photo credit)

Several years later, I came out as gay. Coincidence? I'll let you be the judge.
Anyway, I just wanted to give a Mother's Day shout-out to my mom, who is in every way fabulous. Sure, she is known for her impeccable taste and interior-decorating prowess, her eye for style and ever-fashionable appearance, and her love of opera, Broadway musicals, and Barbra Streisand. But lest you suspect otherwise, none of my mom's hey-girl fabulousness actually made me gay. No more than that gay pride-y ceiling fan did. All it did, really, was make me fabulous, too.

So thanks for everything you've given me, Mom. You're the the best a guy like me could've asked for!


Happy Mother's Day!

(For more on my fabulous mom, check out this great blog post my sister Mary wrote last Mother's Day)

(Also, please enjoy this amusingly apropos Mother's Day video)