It’s been 24 hours now since I returned from the 2005 DWU conference, and I’m still riding a tidal wave of estrogen. Deafened estrogen, too. Implanted, aided, stone-deaf, HOH, oral, cueing, signing estrogen.

Ok, so I expected a lot more chanting, a lot more touchy-feeling stuff, plenty of male-bashing, and a lot more feminine mush. Nurturing and enlightening, the DWU experience was. Mushy, it wasn’t. And except for familial updates, we barely talked about the male sex. How refreshing.

Basically, DWU is built around a variety of workshops that you can choose to attend. In between, there’s a heck of a lot of catching up. Walk through the lobby and there’s clumps of women just sitting back and chatting. I saw old teachers, sorority sisters, MARC riders, out-of-state fellow bloggers there. As a DWU virgin and one of only a handful of 20-somethings (why?!?! this is exactly the sort of empowerment and esteem boost that young women need and grow from!) there, I felt very awkward for the first couple of days. But eventually you learn that there are no catfights here (surprise, surprise). And except for a bunch of really rowdy New Yorkers (still rubbing out the ringing in my right ear from all the NY-related hollering), there’s really no exclusions.

DWU is many things. I’d say it’s indescribable. It’s funny, educational, touching, supportive, and entirely empowering. From the workshops, I got a little financial and retirement-planning education. A few business-world stratagems, a mind blown-open by Ayurveda and Energy healing (chakra and auras) seminars and fashion tips.

Book signings made their debut here too. I’m now a proud owner of a signed copy of “Deaf Artists in America” by Deborah Meranski (the book is published under her former last name, Sonnenstrahl, though), and “Step into the Circle: the Heartbeat of American Indian, Alaska Native, and First Nations Deaf Communities,” by Damara Goff Paris and Sharon Kay Wood.

In fact, I was so busy that I didn’t even get a chance to bid on the Silent Auction or really browse through the exhibition hall. Four days is too short. I’m all for making it a two-week event.

Highlights included a keynote address by Tiffany Granfors-Williams. The title, “Knowledge is power: Carry this tool in your handbag and smile” predicted some cheesy stuff. I was very happily surprised and enthralled by her presentation, though. Of course, a woman who up and takes her two daughters to Switzerland for two years so she can become the first and only deaf famale with a master’s in sports administration and technology is bound to be pretty darn interesting.

MJ Bienvenu’s presentation, “-isms,” ended up being a main attraction - she was given her very own time slot when just about everyone wanted to see it. Although a lecture on heterosexism, sexism, racism, and audism is bound to be heavy, MJ made it lighthearted and throughly educational. I ended up seeking her advice about the presentation on Cueing and the Deaf Community that I’m supposed to make at CueCamp tomorrow, since I’m so nervous about presenting ideas that may be controversial to hearing parents who probably want nothing to do with Deaf culture.

Anyway, I can’t say enough positive things about this conference. I left with a headache from all the new stuff in my head and a lot of energy and motivation. The only good thing about the conference being over is I don’t have to hear any more “What, are you gonna come back a lesbian?” jokes from the men who found out beforehand that I was attending.

In any case, I’m already looking in my checkbook to see if I can manage to pay the early-bird deposit for the New Orleans conference in 2007. Deaf women everywhere, see you there…or I’ll hunt you down.

Yesterday I visited Arlington for the second time in 10 years. Embarassing considering I’ve been here 10 years. And I haven’t even been up the Washington Monument!

Saw all the necessary sights. The Tomb of Unknown Soldiers, JFK’s grave, Taft’s grave, and…decided to visit the Women’s Memorial (tribute to all women soldiers). Upon entering the air conditioned building (it was 90 degress outside and 3 people were treated by EMTs for heat exhaustion), I noticed a row of paintings on the side.

Upon closer look, I discovered the paintings were all works of art done by artists all over the United States. Every signle painting (5×7 size) was of a soldier who lost his/her life in Iraq or Afghanistan since 2001.

oh. my. god.

First, it didn’t hit me. I just walked past the paintings, but I started to see personal notes, items. Then I decided to read some of the notes left behind.

“We’re missing you.”

“I’m proud of you, I always think of you daily. Love, Mom”

“Things aren’t the same without you.”

And the one that really hit me:

“I miss you Daddy, XOXO Nathan” in a small child’s handwriting.

I wept.

Me, a guy who is sometimes sensitive about showing emotions in public (hey whattya expect? I’m a typical male!)

But, at that moment, I didn’t care who saw me. I wept.

I wept for Nathan. I wept for all of the soldiers who died fighting for something they believed in.

I’ll never forget that moment.

God Bless Our Troops.

My first time in RFK Stadium was a memorable one. I got to go to a Nationals game with my two girls, and the Nationals won. The only beef I had was…President Bush was at the game also. Only I didn’t know about it until the next day.

Great timing. The worst possible place for me to be around a president I despite.

At least the Nats won…only if I could pass on their charm to my Yankees — such inconsistency.

My fiancee Debby cringes when I approach the popcorn counter at a movie theater. It’s one of my favorite foods, theater buttered popcorn, and the accompanied cup of cola. A movie isn’t a movie unless I have both in my hands sitting in the dark.

Until recently. My attitude’s changed. I’ve come to rely less and less on movies promising to be captioned. No longer do I want to sit in theaters munching on my popcorn, slurping my cola only to learn the film’s not captioned. It just doesn’t feel right eating those stuff when there isn’t a captioned movie showing.

That was the case yesterday. The gentleman who sold our tickets assured my friend and I that he himself checked the DTS machine earlier. I was elated that I was hearing this from the very person who checked it. Still, I walked past the popcorn counter not giving the treats a thought. As much as I wanted to believe them, I could not find it in me to fully convince myself the film was indeed captioned.

We sat through the usual proceeding: the quizzes, advertisements, curtain drawing, previews, and finally the opening credits. The film begins.

Mouths move. No captions.

We stepped out of the theater obviously in disgust. The theater manager was a kind gentleman, empathizing with us. He gave us his apology explaining that the theater next door was showing a screening, and had taken most of their staff. (I live in an area of 9 movie theaters within a 2 mile radius where almost all have one auditorium each. The theater I was in is under the same management as the theater next door).

The kind manager offered us three complimentary tickets each. Whoop-dee-do!

As well-intentioned as his offer was, I’ve grown tired of spending up to a hour in a theater all for nothing. In fact, I had entered the theater on a free ticket I had received from a previous, and similar, incident.

What good are complimentary tickets if you cannot use them? What at first seemed to be winning lottery tickets, are now worthless. I wonder how many more times for this to happen before I stop going to theaters altogether?

The first person that emails me their mailing address gets three free tickets to Mann Theaters.***

***Note: The movie tickets have been awarded. Thank you for your readership.