How can my kid be this old? I'm only 29 - okay 39 - okay older

How can our kid be this old? I mean it was only yesterday that she was her baby's age! After all, I'm only 29 - 39 - 49 - okay, I'm older than that; in fact, I'm older than dirt almost, but that doesn't make it fair that my kid is 37. She'll be getting grey hair soon, and that'll make me (look) older still, won't it? I mean I know it's too late for me. My hair took after my great grandmother on my mother's side and turned grey when I was 40. I like to say it was working for newspapers that turned my hair grey, and I am sure that it was certainly a contributing factor, but - - - .

I don't think it's fair that I've been coloring my hair for more years than my daughter has been alive. After all, my mother hardly had grey hair when she died at 80. I know I put of few of those hairs on her head, and my sister put way more up there than I did. After all, she was a hippie back in the days when that wasn't nostalgic! Come to think of it, she put several grey hairs on my head too. Every time she got herself in trouble out protesting heaven-knows-what she would call me to come bail her out. I do mean Bail, as in pay money to guarantee she'd show up with all the other San Francisco flower children on her court date. These days being a hippie is considered quaint. It wasn't quaint when I was driving from Fresno to S.F. in the fog at 3 a.m.

I'll admit that my kid put a few grey hairs on my head too, especially in her teen age years, and oh, those college years . . . But, she turned out to be one special person. I hope everyone can have at least one kid like she has been. She was a joy as a baby, as a kid, mostly-a-joy as a teen, certainly a joy again as a young adult, and now, as a mother, she tops everything else. I'm so proud of her. She's working, keeping a house up with a nice husband, and raising a beautiful little girl that will give her some grey hair too, no doubt.

You know what? I think I've earned the grey hairs I have. So, I think I may just let the ole hair do its thing. Oh, I'll still color some of it, so I don't look too bad, maybe I'll weave in a bit of light blonde as it changes to full on grey. Anyway, I think I'll make it a New Year resolution to let it go natural. Maybe I'll like it. Maybe not - but until I try, I'll never know. So, here's to a great 08 - and grey hair.

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual, and Blog Block

Okay, I admit it - I've got Blog Block.

I've been sitting here, trying the think of a good subject for my blog tonight. How about: Why the heck am I blogging anyway?

I thought, and I thought. And then, slowly, I began to realize my life is different because Angela is my spouse, and Angela is a Transsexual, and we're still married - happily married.

I'm blogging to share how living with a Transsexual/T/TS/ or Transgendered/TG person is wonderful.

So, for today, one of The Best Things About Married to a Transsexual is: it cured my Blog Block.

You can read someone else's opionion in a S. F. Chronicle article about us. Here's the link:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/09/CMTUT436A.DTL

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual

You see, being married to a Trans is a little different than being married to other folks because before transition they are two different people - one that's their external self and one that is being suppressed. The one that is being held down is the one they really need to be. When they are holding down their "real" personality, it leads to many bad things such as depression, anger, isolation and controlling behavior. Once they've made the transition their real self becomes fully integrated with all their memories intact, although viewed through a whole new filter. They don't have to hide their true selves anymore. That frees them of all those bad behaviors - and their family and friends get to see all sorts of "Firsts" and "Bests."

One of The Best Things about Being Married to a Transsexual was watching and seeing the Best of Angela this week. I sat back this year and really watched how she was enjoying the holiday. She was so much fun right from the start. I already mentioned her happily getting down decorations and helping to put them up, but it was so much more than that. It was shopping for gifts and wrapping them together and standing in line chatting at the post office as we mailed off cards and packages. It was being aware of how excited she was about having the family here, and listening to her guess what the baby would do with her new toys. It was seeing her laugh over goofy presents and making funny faces with the baby. It was hearing her gay conversation as we fixed dinner with four people maneuvering around the kitchen. It was having a snowball fight with christmas wrap as we cleaned up after everyone left.

So, my "Best Things" was seeing how delightfully wonderful all the changes have come together since her transition.

SF Chronicle article about us:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/09/CMTUT436A.DTL

It's the getting ready that's the problem

Getting ready - isn't that always the bane of women? We always seem to take longer getting ourselves ready than the guys (Naturally!), getting anything else ready also takes longer than one plans (Damn!) to load up the RV, there's always something missing (Dang it!), it usually takes a trip to the store (of course!), and something is always forgotten or left behind (Righto! and Darn!)

Yesterday, and today, I'm still getting ready for a Christmas party that's tonight. It's not even here; it's at a friend's place. But, today we're also getting ready for a trip in the RV. That was supposed to take about 2 hours - it took more - lots more. So, now it's nearly time to leave for the party and RV is finally done. We're leaving first thing in the a.m. for the RV trip, so my part of the RV has to be done before I leave for the party. Now, another of the Best Things about being Married to a Transsexual is Angela understands all this. She's my back up. She always double checks the list and catches almost everything I forget. One time we forgot the doggies' bed. Another time it was our sandwich bread. Of course, all these things can be overcome with a stop at a store or a bit of improvising. Good thing, huh?! So, now, the RV is ready to go, and I'm finally ready to leave for my party.

The last minute things I barely remembered to add: the cards for the gifts, the script for my "silliness" part of the dinner, my thumb drive for the RV computer, dish towels, and make up remover. She caught all of it.

So why am I still here, doing a blog? I'm not - I'm gone - goodbye. I'll be back to do the next entry on Wednesday. After that, I'll learn how to do this long distance.

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual or I Always Wanted A Wife

I've noted several Best Things about being married to a T, but having a wife has got to be the best of all the bests. Angela pitches in as only a wife does. Yeah, guys pitch in for their friends, and sometimes they even help out around the house, but it's not the same as having a wife. Angela went from only doing the Grillin' on the Barby thing to doing whole meals while I worked - every day. She also cooked for company, and she did that more often than I did. Now that I've retired, we tend to switch off more often than not, but that's okay too. Another huge difference is the atmosphere in the kitchen. You know how it is when a guy is waiting for dinner to get done? Well, we don't have any of that. Angela and I actually have fun together in the kitchen. We are often purposefully bumping into one another so we can steal a kiss. We bump butts too although we are careful to note if one of us is cutting something first. We actually spend a good bit of time laughing when we are in the preparing a meal or cooking, and trust me, that never happened before. I usually make the salad now, and Angela usually cleans up after dinner. Otherwise, we pretty much share duties. I do the BBQ stuff as often as she does, and sometimes she has something she's watching on the coals while I tend to the veggies. So, we both have a wife, and that's a good thing, don't you think? What makes it a Best is that Angela also still knows how to do all the guy things. Our holiday lights are on timers, the oil in the car gets changed on time, tire pressure is checked regularly, and she knows how to talk to a mechanic about anything. So, I have the best of all worlds.

Here's the link to the SF Chronicle article:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/09/CMTUT436A.DTL

Best Things About Being Married To A Transsexual or Red Letter Day x Three

Today is a Red Letter Day.
Three special things happened:
First, we were in the San Francisco Paper in the magazine's On The Couch Feature. I haven't set up links yet, but I will. Meanwhile, go to:
www.sfgate.com
search for Pettit

Next, our granddaughter, Brooke, ate her first solid meal toady. It was only a tablespoon of rice cereal, but that's pretty special in our book. Angela was right there with me, taping the event. I don't know who was the proudest, Brooke's parents or us.

Last, Angela spent the better part of this evening helping to decorate our daughter and son-in-law's tree. Now, that may not seem like much at first glance, but when Angela was David, you could hardly get him in the same room with a tree, much less get him to help decorate one. Angela, on the other hand, already helped deck our home and tree, and now she's pitching in at the daughter's place too. Who'd have thought it? Not me, that's for sure. Not only that, but she spent yesterday's shopping from 9 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. with us - daughter, granddaughter, and me. That was an added bonus.

Most important: None of the above would have been so happily shared without the transition. So, which was the best thing about today? Having Angela at my side, for all three Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual!

Size 8! Celebrate the small victories.

What's it like to be a size eight again, after being a 16 for 5 years? It's wonderful - and it's scary. It's wonderful because it means I'm reaching a goal I set out to reach - the goal is still a size 6, but I'm getting there. It's scary because when one 's behind finally fits comfortably into a size one is proud to wear, it says 'I'm committed to not gaining it back." Okay, I cheated initially - I had help: I used Nutri-system instead of counting calories and exercising. It worked though, and I'm a walking advertisement for them to anyone who asks. Now, I am trying to do it on my own, and that is a LOT harder. The holidays aren't helping. Understatement, huh? The holidays make it harder because it's difficult to say "No," to the fattening lunch out when one's shopping. It's harder to say "No," when all your friends are trying the latest dessert sensation when you meet for a holiday brunch. It's nearly impossible to say "No," at a party. Oh, I can stay out of the hors-d'ouvres, and I can stay away from the all-you-can-eat-buffet line, but when it's served on your plate, at a sit down dinner, with dessert staring at you all the way through the meal - that's tough. But, if you keep that size 6 in mind, and if you remember how good it felt to put your hiney into that size 8 even, it's a lot easier. In short, celebrate the small victories.

A Rose by Any Other Name

I got a rose today. My lovely transsexual wife, Angela, who used to be my husband, David, delivered it. It was 4 p.m., and she was coming in from working in her shop (that's another story for another day). I was feeding the baby when Angela approached with a large grin on her face and her arm behind her back. I was expecting to see an "ouchie," because she is always turning up with minor injuries from doing something she should have asked for help to accomplish. Instead, she brought her hand around and put a rose on my knee. "I brought you a blood red rose," she said. "Red for my heart's love of you." She's a sweetheart, that's for sure, and I'm sure glad she made the switch from he to she. Just like the Grinch, her heart grew many sizes as she became a woman. The rose is probably the last rose we'll have this winter. It's in a bowl on the kitchen bar now, so we can enjoy it together for the next few days. It's beautiful, but no less so than she is. Not bad for a couple that have been married forty-one years (and counting).

A Package of Time

I need Christmas to come with a package of time. I've become used to convenience packaging, and I'd like Christmas to come with a bit more ease. It's hectic, it's franic, and it too crammed together. No, that is not a plea for the holiday season to start earlier! Heck, most of the stores have Xmas stuff up about the time they put out Halloween costumes and decor. No, I just need longer hours. It's the decorating, entertaining, holiday cards, shopping, wrapping, and mailing that deserve more of my time and devoted interest. I also want more time to enjoy each of those things. Every time I begin a project for the holidays I feel rushed; I feel like it all needs to be finished right now, today, as quickly as possible. While I do each item, I enjoy it, but that pressure to rush, to get it off my To Do List, seems to interfere with that enjoyment. I can sit and stare at my Christmas tree for hours, but there never seems to even be one hour when I can enjoy the light show. I don't seem to have the time to watch the play of the lights on the ornaments and on the icicles. I'm too worried about the ones that have fallen, or a package that needs wrapping, or one that needs to be rearrange. I never seem to have the time to think long and lovingly of all the good times I spent with the folks I correspond with at Christmastime. I remember them briefly with a sigh that our friendship has come down to an annual exchange of cards with short notes. It doesn't mean I treasure them less, it only means that time has gotten compressed into those few days of holiday time. Occasionally, I get to reconnect with a long time friend to make new memories to treasure. But, those times are fewer and farther between as our families grow and our time gets shorter. I love prettily wrapped gift packages, too, but gift bags have become so much easier, haven't they? They don't stack worth a darn under the tree though, do they? They're hard to arrange under the branches, and the handles make them difficult to maneuver. Entertaining takes 8 hours to arrange, 4 hours of visiting, half of which one is tending to cooking or other duties, and 4 hours of clean up. Is it worth it, absolutely, but it makes the actual gathering seem all the more rushed and compressed. Where did those leisurely meetings with friends we had when we were kids go? Where did the afternoons at play, the slumberparties, the hours at the movies, and then dinner and maybe then hanging-out afterwards fade into the netherworld of meetings and must-dos? I don't know. I want it all back - all that time I used to have. I want those times with friends back, in more than treasured memories. I want to dawddle in front of my tree with a good book and my feet warming by the fireplace. I want to eagerly await Santa, and I want to tear into my gifts with the abandon of a child again. I want time back. I want it back for all of us. I want it packaged for convenience so there is more time for remembering, for seeing, for doing, and most important, for being together with those we most care about - our families, our friends, and ourselves at leisure. So, to all you inventors out there - come up with a holiday package of time, please. I'll be first in line to buy.