Yesterday we managed to make it to the protest; We want the message against this war to be heard, whether George (or his handlers) are listening or not. I tried not to criticize the typography on people's signs ("Don't letterspace Futura Condensed Bold that way! That's just cruel!") and BF did his best not to mention that technically, we're not at war with Iraq yet—it's the sentiment behind the protest chants that's important.

We didn't hang around for very long afterwards, as we were (read: I was) tired and cranky by the time we got the Civic Center from dealing with so many people. So we headed home for an unplanned nap, walking past all the people stuck in cars, angry at all the traffic, idling and burning up plenty of fossil fuels. Amazing how many cars had just one person in them—no, not really. (Maybe they were picking up their fellow protestors who had to drive in from out of town. Yeah, sure.) I didn't see any of the blog folks who mentioned they'd be there, but I was glad to catch Sherilyn and Katrina before they caught the train home. (No, that is not them in the photo above, though they took some good pictures themselves.)

I'd forgotten that I'd put the simplistic-but-it-gets-the-point-across message "No Blood for Oil" on my top hat when a strange man on the street asked me when I last contributed blood. The Boyfriend pointed out that, as gay men, we're still not eligible to donate blood regardless of our HIV status. (OK, I pass out during blood tests, so I'm not a very good candidate for donation anyway; but that's neither here nor there.)

Today (after a nice time finally having Christmas with my parents) I'm trying to figure out a good way to express my feelings for W's too-ironic-for-words National Sanctity of Human Life day. Maybe Reese can recommend a political action group deserving of a donation? (I'm thinking NARAL, but I'm open to suggestion.)