Show and Tell is below this post, but I thought I would trot out a sample from my new joke book tonight:

Get it?

Get it?

I wasn’t going to comment on Stephanie Saul’s latest article about surrogacy because honestly, what more is there to say?  The author’s obvious contempt for the assisted reproduction is abundantly clear in not only the fact that she seems to have now made a career with her scintillating exposés–trotting to the ends of the earth to ignore the thousands of families utilizing fertility treatments to build their families in order to capture the one outlier situation–but also in her word choice.  Her latest piece opens with this ditty:

“Unable to have a baby of her own, Amy Kehoe became her own general contractor to manufacture one.”

Saul comes up with such gasp-worthy observations as “Surrogacy is largely without regulation, with no authority deciding who may obtain babies through surrogacy or who may serve as a surrogate, according to interviews and court records.”

Wait.  Are you going to tell me that as Keanu Reeves so eloquently said in Parenthood that they’ll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father?  You mean the government isn’t stepping in and telling people whether or not they’re allowed to become a parent or assist someone else in becoming a parent?

Or do you only want those regulations in place for people unable to have children without assistance–you know, same-sex couples, single parents by choice, and infertile men and women?  As long as you can procreate behind closed doors, the government should just stay out until you’ve proven yourself to be an unfit parent–am I understanding correctly, Ms. Saul?

She states that the lax atmosphere makes it possible for people to “order up a baby” as if we all have $100,000+ lying around to create a child as well as the desire to utilize someone else’s gametes or womb.  I’m assuming that she isn’t counting the fact that most heterosexual couples who decide to procreate attempt to order up a baby by deciding who will be their mate and therefore which genes will be passed along.  I’m also assuming that she has forgotten by the second page the fact that she mentioned that only 750 children are born via surrogacy each year and most cases are not like the three freak situations she dug up for the article.  I can see how large an issue this might become, Ms. Saul.  You know…750 children out of several million.  It certainly warrants this alarmist coverage.

Is the Kehoe’s story a sad situation?  Of course.  And Kym states the surrogacy side much better than I can.  But what I see from this situation as well as Stephanie Saul’s coverage is simply the author’s gleeful hatred of assisted conception as well as the overwhelming bias we have in this country against mental illness.  As the article states, this all came about because “Mrs. Kehoe was being treated for mental illness.”

Treated, as in, she was addressing the health condition.  As in, she was being a responsible parent by treating her disease.  As in, she was mindful of the situation and being proactive.  For eight years.  You know, all things that should be applauded as well as non-eyebrow raising.  In this country, bodily illness trumps mental illness with the empathy card.  We have such contempt for people who were not born with perfect mental health.

And that’s what I find disgusting, Ms. Saul.  The fact that treating mental illness is what kicked off this situation.  Not surrogacy itself.

But I don’t have a joke for that.

Show and Tell is wasted on elementary schoolers. Join several dozen bloggers weekly to show off an item, tell a story, and get the attention of the class. In other words, this is Show and Tell 2.0. Everyone is welcome to join, even if you have never posted before and just found out about Show and Tell for the first time today. So yank out a photo of the worst bridesmaid’s dress you ever wore and tell us the story; show off the homemade soup you cooked last night; or tell us all about the scarf you made for your first knitting project. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.

Let’s begin.

We have an egg-free child coming over for dinner tonight.  Along with Tom Waits cookies (which are always egg-free), I tried fiddling with a vegan chocolate chip cookie recipe.  The results are pretty rockin’.  Recipe is here.

What are you showing today?

Click here or scroll down to the bottom of this post if this is your first time joining along (Important: link to the permalink for the post, not the main url for your blog and use your blog’s name, not your name. Links not going to a Show and Tell post will be deleted). The list is open from now until late Friday night and a new one is posted every week.

As we lead up to Christmas, this Jew thought it might be a good idea to throw open the doors of the Lushary and reconnect before we go off to our respective celebrations (if you’re…er…celebrating and not doing volunteer work and then going to the movies like me).

So take a moment before you start getting even farther into Christmas preparations, Christmas avoidance, or non-celebration of the holiday to catch everyone up on what is happening since the last Virtual Lushary OR where you are mentally as you head into the holiday.

As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

Sometimes (meaning: I have dealt with this, though it certainly isn’t the feeling of all people that I encounter) people speak about meeting a partner or a friend via the Internet with contempt or embarrassment that I don’t really understand.  Contempt by people who judge those relationships and embarrassment by people in them. Sometimes people refer to the offline world as “real life” as if the friendships that are made via blogging are somehow unreal in comparison.  Perhaps I’m just anti-ranking in general, but I don’t think there is a superior way to bring love into your life.

Hi, my name is Melissa, and I met my friends over the Internet.  And I’m proud to shout that to the world.

However you meet your partner or friends is unimportant if you have a partner or friends because honestly, think about just how much needs to line up to bring you to the people in your life.  If I hadn’t annoyed Josh enough times beginning at 11 p.m., he wouldn’t have suggested that I start a blog.  And if I hadn’t started a blog, I wouldn’t have searched out other DC blogs and so on and so on until I ended up in a living room today, surrounded by the most amazing, nurturing, funny, warm women you’ve ever met.

I am really fucking lucky.

Because I also know that there are too many people without friends.  Or who have friends, but they don’t click on all levels.  And what everyone needs is a group of women like this.  Women that you can cry in front of and laugh with and never need to explain yourself.

Meghan and Leah with their ruby sippers.  These two are so funny–they always crack me up.

Me and Sunny.  My shirt is drenched with club soda from a bottle that exploded.  But I needed my picture with Sunny because I was really proud of my bra and wanted her approval.

Bean, who is my friend, but is also my cousin.  See, the Internet not only brings you friends, but it can bring you long-lost family.

Meghan laughing–I just liked this picture.

Leah teaching Paz and Cali how to make a ruby sipper.

Meghan, Lindsay, and Paz.

Paz chilling on the floor.  Isn’t she so pretty and stylish?

Cali listening to Paz.  I am so excited that she’s up here now.

I met Lindsay over the Internet, via our blogs–and I cannot imagine what my life would be like without her.  For one, my Chanukkah table would have been a lot smaller.  And I wouldn’t have my venting space, my park partner, or my computer fixer.  I wouldn’t have the privilege of getting to see V grow or have someone to pass off baked goods upon.  Thank you, Internets, for aligning just right.

A lot of TOOTPU was missing today, but from left to right: (top) Paz, Sunny, Jendeis, Meghan, Lindsay, Leah (bottom) Me, Cali, Lucy, and Bean.

Leah’s daughter took me to meet Elfie.

Cali, Meghan, Bean, and Paz.

The ever-lovely Jendeis, Cali, and Meghan.

These are in addition to the ones I uploaded in real time over at the on the road blog.

I love hearing stories of people who met over the Internet–of egg donors meeting up with recipients, of two friends who meet via blogs and go on holiday with each other, of a marriage resulting from a meeting via Match.com.

Tell me a story about someone you met online; about how the Internet has changed your life–even if they are someone you are deeply connected to even if you haven’t met face-to-face yet.

I’m not a big fan of Chanukkah.  And by “not a big fan” I mean that I like it about as much as I like Valentine’s Day.  Which is not at all unless you count the candy and then it’s like a 2 on a scale of 1–10.

Here’s the fact about Chanukkah–it’s sort of the religious equivalent to Veterans Day (in fact, it is a war memorial holiday) and it has been elevated to the level of Christmas by both the retail industry and well-meaning people who feel badly that Jews don’t really have a cool holiday like Christmas in the winter.

I don’t feel badly about that fact at all.  I love Christmas and I don’t mind if Christmas has a monopoly on winter.  Purim–in my world–has a monopoly on the dreary post-winter/pre-spring season and I would be all kinds of cranky if people started elevating some random Catholic feast day to the level of Purim and telling me that it was sort of the same thing.

There are Jewish holidays that I love.  Purim is and will always be #1 in my heart.  Succot and Pesach tie for a close second.  Rosh HaShanah and Simchat Torah tied for third.  But Chanukkah is sort of right below Yom Kippur.  I get more out of atoning for my sins (of which there are many) than lighting the chanukkiah.  I am just not a fan of fried foods–either eating them or smelling them.  The only way they could make this holiday worse for me is if they added mayonnaise and crickets to the mix.

BUT.

Last night, we had over my parents and Lindsay and her family and we got to witness V light the chanukkiah for the first time.  He looked slightly confused and distracted between all of the adults cooing at him and snapping pictures while we sang in a weird language and held lit candles near him.  And he cracked us all up with his tricks with the stuffing over blessing the grape juice during Shabbat.  But getting that time with friends and family, everyone hanging out and eating and talking, getting to witness a little boy taking in a ritual that spans backs centuries and centuries–that melted my little Chanukkah Grinch heart.

The ChickieNob and Wolvog started the melting process on us years ago when we got to witness their first reaction to lighting the chanukkiah and V chipped off the ice a little deeper.  Give me a few more years of good friends and family hanging out in our kitchen and you may one day read a post about how Chanukkah has jumped up in popularity to occupy the third tier of my heart.

Today, I got to meet Addition Problems and Cali.  Look at us–I am seriously the height of a Smurf.  I got to start feeding W a bottle and Lindsay got to finish.

So that was all kinds of magical as well to finally get to meet Cali and hold W–who have been on the other end of a telephone line or computer screen for the last three+ years.

Tomorrow, I will be at Leah’s, eating cookies and downing Ruby Sippers.  I’ll do the dirty work for all of us and beat her senseless for not posting since September.  A large chunk of the DC IF blogging contingency will be there and I will be live blogging it at this space starting around noon.

People who will most likely be there: Blogless Paz, Hoping for Another Lovebug, Chez Perky, Two Hot Mamas (later in the party maybe), Tales from My Dusty Ovaries, Our Family Beginnings, Body Diaries by Lucy, A Little Sweetness, Sell Crazy Someplace Else, Sunny with a Chance of Hope, and Me.

I will have email access while I’m there so if you want me to ask anyone a question, turn the video camera on them (as long as they are willing), or get a photo with them, send me an email between noon and 3ish with “party” in the subject line so I open it immediately.  Party posts will appear sometimes over here and sometimes right here on Stirrup Queens.

Happy Chanukkah if you’re eating latkes tonight.