Small Steps Toward Freedom from Fear

There were protests, and then people knew that those in the GLBT+ spectrum would no longer be ignored. Openly "out" parades began, and straight people enjoyed watching, and some even supported them. Supportive organizations began, like PFLAG (and others), and they saw their membership grow. Lobbyist appeared at legislative offices, and bills began to be introduced. Domestic Partnerships were allowed here and there, and states didn't crumble and churches didn't die. In fact, many churches found new members to increase their fold. Welcoming those in the GLBT+ family showed love and acceptance was a better way to follow one's choice of God. Marriages began to happen, and Love spread. Don't Ask / Don't Tell fell, and patriotic men and women will now serve openly.

Freedom for those in our GLBT+ family is coming. We'll soon be equal to the rest of you. That's a tremendous gift to the young people in our community. It shows them that if they can hang on until they are adults, they may be able to lead a normal life.

I'd like to be able to show "our" youth that they can be accepted even while they are still youngsters, pre-teen, teens, and young adults. I'd like to see the bullying, name calling, and hatred stop. Wouldn't you?

She's just a social butterfly!

Ah, yes, there was a time when I was considered the social one in the marriage. David, now Angela, was not anti-social, exactly, he just didn't participate in conversations much. He always sat just outside of the circle, usually with his arms crossed. He answered with "Yes" or "No," and that was his version of participating in the conversation. Now, since the transition, her elbows are on the table, she's scooted right into the circle, and no talking can go on without her input. She's introducing herself to people all the time. She's suggesting fun things to do, and she is the Hostess With The Mostess when we have guests. She's a good cook too and an even better housekeeper. I guess I'll have to hand over my social butterfly wand and let her take over! Yes, here's another Best Thing About Being Married to a Transsexual!

It's just a little switch

I was dusting today. Simple, huh? Welllllll, let me say that doing so resulted in a mornings worth of work. You see, while doing my house cleaning, I dusted over a light switch and turned it to the OFF position without noticing that I had done so. Horrors! Dast, oh dear! Damn!

This particular switch controls the electricity to all the lights and plugs in the living room, dining area, kitchen, utility room and smallest bathroom. When none of these rooms would light up for me to continue my cleaning, I called for Angela, our Miss Fix-it around here. The rest of the morning was dedicated to testing switches, throwing fuses, running down electric cords and all other sorts of electrician-type stuff that I don't understand. All to no avail, I might add.

When every test had failed, and while we contemplated the need to call a professional out on a Saturday, we both took a break. Angela happened to pass by the switch. She stopped dead and called me, "Oh, Jonni . . . Could you come here a moment?" When I saw her standing there, I immediately realized what must of happened. Too bad neither of us thought to check there first.

She switched it to on, and "Voila! Let there be light!" she said. She is a miracle worker, isn't she? I helped put everything away and quietly slunk off to my computer.

MY CUP RUNNETH OVER

There is a musical, I DO, I DO, that is based on the play, THE FOUR POSTER. It predominately takes place around a four poster bed as a couple ages. Many of the tunes are catchy and fun. One is where the newlyweds speak of watching their sleeping spouse, and how fortunately they are to have one another. I've been having one of those weeks when I really appreciate everything about Angela. No, it's not about the talents she exhibits in fixing things, or the fun we have because of her transition, or even about her personality. It's the little intangible things like how she blows bubbles with her lips (sans spit/more like a quiet raspberry) as she sleeps; how she breaths deeply when she's concentrating on something (our daughter does the same); how she snuggles up at night, and how she rushes about on various projects. It's the little touches, or smooches, when we pass; and it's how she must have lipstick on to walk out of the house, not to mention adding earrings to coordinate with every outfit. It's how she cares for the doggies - and me - when I'm distracted or worried about some fool thing. In short, it's just about Angela being Angela that makes me realize how much My Cup Runneth Over.

Bullies, Terry Pratchett and YOU

If you haven't read Terry Pratchett, you've missed some delightful reading. Not only is his humor top notch, but his views have a lot to say about people in Real Life. I just finished I SHALL WEAR MIDNIGHT, and he has a good bit to say about those who prejudice others. The book is about a young witch who has a Cunning Man turning people against her and other witches. Being part of the GLBT+ community, his comments certainly strike home, especially given the numerous suicides and other situations those in our community face due to how people view us. Prejudice is an ugly thing, and when it leads to bullying and worse, young people die. I'd like to have our government and religious leaders think of the consequences before they speak out against the GLBT+ community.

Here's what Tiffany Aching has to say to the Cunning Man:
Your power is only rumor and lies . . . You bore your way into people when they are uncertain and weak and worried and frightened, and they think their enemy is other people when their enemy is, and always will be, you-the master of lies.

Don't make a space for those, who like the Cunning Man, would turn you against your fellow man. Think for yourself and understand that what some folks say are not in your best interest or our country's. I suspect most folks don't give a fig about what their neighbor's do in their own bedrooms. So why is everyone worried about what those in the GLBT+ community do? If you want government out of your home, support others who want it out of theirs. Equal Rights mean Equal, not separate or different. If you love, you should allow others to do so as well. Remember, love is welcoming and accepting of our differences.

I believe God is going to be what you most hate, so when you reach Him, he may well be a member of the GLBT+ community. Don't be a bully who throws stones or derogitory, belittling words, instead be one who welcomes our differences and diversity.

How to shorten a rope

Okay, so most people purchase a rope based on the size they need. Right? Right. We, on the other hand, buy a long rope and shorten it by pulling out tree stumps. It works every time. You see, we have a yard full of trees and a LOT of hard pan. That means that most of the tree roots spread out near the surface rather than digging deep into the ground. It also means a heavy wind can knock over a tree every now and then. I'm not sure why they always tend to fall across our driveway or into some other position that is nearly as big of a nuisance , but they do. In this case, however, we elected to cut down a tree that sheds leaves down our chimney, even though, technically, it isn't that close to the chimney. It is close to the house, however. So, this particular tree, a Japanese Elm that I liked very much - until it became a problem, lives in a soft spot, ground wise. Its roots go all the way to Japan, as a matter of fact. We begin by cutting off its limbs, its trunk, and then digging up the roots. Now, I don't usually mind digging in the dirt, but this tree happens to be particularly stubborn. Its roots are tangled and twisted. It seems that no amount of artfully revealing its lifeline is going to release the stump. And so, after hacking away at the mass of large and small roots, our only option was to get the rope and yank it out. Let me say that the stump not only stopped the car dead, it also shortened the rope by a good 4 feet. The snap probably resulted in a few calls to the sheriff too, because it was quite a loud Snap! We have found this an effective way to shorten rope on several occasions actually. While I don't recommend it, I know that it works.

Pumphouse Blues

"It appears your pump is dead, and your grass is not doing well," said the gardener over the phone. "We're expecting hundred degree temps this week too."

This is not a good thing to hear when home is in California, and we are in New York. Needless to say, we headed home. It's not quite a 3,000 mile trip, so it was not exactly an overnighter, given that we were traveling by RV. We had one planned stop we had to make. That added two additional days to our all ready 6-day trip.

"It's the motor, not the pump," said the repairman the day after we finally arrived home to browning grass. "We can fix it in one day, but you'll have to trim some of these trees so we can get the truck with the winch into your back yard."

Now, if you've been reading this blog, you know what I think about having Angela up in trees. However, given the circumstances, and with me standing by with 911 on the speed dial, we began two days of tree trimming. We also had to take the roof off the pumphouse.

We filled the dumpster to overflowing with branches, and then had another huge pile to fill it again the next week left over. The motor was done the next day.

Our poor grass, trees and few remaining flowering plants sucked down water three times a day for four days before we saw the first signs of green shoots again. The RV finally got emptied and cleaned out. Whew!

We finally stop singing the Pumphouse Blues.

Never say I'm bored

It was only ten minutes after Angela said those dreaded words: "I'm bored," when all hell broke loose. Please note, I said hell and not HELL, because all we had was lots and LOTS of water. A pipe under the sink failed and began spewing the liquid out at full pressure. Angela looked for the turn off valve under the sink. There were none. She ran downstairs to the next most obvious place, no valve.

"Call Joan," she yelled from below.

I dialed her sister, no answer, so I left a message on both her home phone and cell, as well as one for her husband. "Where the heck is the water turn off valve in Mom's house? Bring towels and a large wrench when you get this message."

"Call my brother," came the voice from below the stairs as I was already dialing that number.

"Can I help? I heard you yelling from outside," said the blessed neighbor from next door. He took one look at the flooded kitchen and raced downstairs to help Angela. A few minutes later, he had found the valve, the water had stopped, and I was soaking up water with every towel I could fined It was at that time that brother-in-law one drove up to help.

The house has a full basement, and water was pouring down every pipeline in the kitchen. So, after wringing out innumerous towels, I flung them downstairs to repeat the task below. Brother called to say he was on his way with his trunk loaded with tools and towels. "Never mind, Tony (the neighbor) saved the day. Thanks, though," I said

Angela took measurements and headed for Home Depot for new fittings. I put the towels in the spin cycle of the wash a couple of times and continued mopping up water in the basement. Two hours later, a new faucet and all the fittings were installed.

Mom happily watched the proceedings from her rocking chair.

Two hours later, the pipe was fixed and Mom had a new faucet. All was well in the household, but Angela is forbidden to think, much less utter, "I'm bored." Again, I'm reminded how lucky I am to have a T with all the plumbing knowledge she has.

Turnpikes and Tollways

Okay, I understand that states are having difficulties keeping up with road repairs. I even admit that the decision to have toll roads makes some sense, at least when the tolls are used to cover the costs of needed repairs. However, when I'm driving on them, and I find they are not maintained any better than other primary throughfares, I am not happy. I'm also not happy to find the wide tollboth is usually the one that remains unmanned. That forces RVs and semitrucks to squeeze into the smaller space along with all the cars. Before Angela transitioned, she was NOT the cool-headed driver she is now. HE would have given the attendant an earful over having to test every driving skill available to avoid scraping the mirrors and paint off the RV while paying for the privilege of using these poorly maintained roadways. Yes, someone deserves to have their ears blasted for the situation, but not the attendants. So, yep, this is another Best Thing About Being Married to a Transsexual. I love her supurb driving and her level headed attitude.

Worry

My T, Angela, puts the big letters in WORRY WART. I mean she's far worse than your average Worry Wart with only two capital letters.

Our route has been been carefully selected, honed and perfected to weeks now. However, last night, the worrywarts began to appear. First it was, "I'm not sure I can make the corner to get the propane."

"The RV Park has been serving motor coaches our size for years. It won't be a problem," I said.

"She woke in a cold sweat, in the middle of the night, and said, "I don't think the RV will be allowed on the floating bridge."

"Semi's cross the Hood Canal on it all the time," said I. "We'll be fine."

"When the sun came up, it was, "They won't let us on the ferry with the tow car."

"If you want to worry about the ferry, consider what it going to cost us," I suggested.

"The route's not marked to Highway Five after we leave the peninsula."

"There will be signs," I promised

We got the propane without a problem, the floating bridge didn't sink, the ferry not only let us on, they charged us $87 and change, and we got to Freeway Five. Now, what worries me is how we are going to fit this big rig into most of the Canadian RV parks.

Ah, how nice it is to have a gardener.

The temperature reads 107 outside, and the grass is waving in the breeze. It needs cutting. Usually, that means we will dampen our clothes enough to be outside and remain comfortable while we do the job. Today, though, we have a gardener. What bliss. I'm not riding the lawnmower, and Angela isn't doing the edging. I'm not picking up twigs, and Angela isn't trimming the hedge. The broken tree limb is not calling us to care for it immediately. We have a gardener. Angela and I are free to read, write, nap or play with the dogs. Are we? No, we're watching the gardener. Will he do as good a job as we do? Will he be faster than we usually are? Probably. Yes, in fact, when all is said and done. He, after all, has the fancy equipment we don't own. He also does the job for a living and has figured out all the little tricks of the trade. So, by watching, we hope to do better when we are doing it again in a few weeks. We also hired a professional tree trimming service. Guess what, not a single person fell out of a tree or off a ladder. You know, this could become a habit. Now, all we have to do is get a summer job to pay for our professional lawn care. Maybe we could hire out as gardeners.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Who ever said retirement was relaxing? Forget that. So far today, I have trimmed a small tree (taller than me though), and helped Angela mend a fence that lines our property. It's only ninety degrees outside. That's almost cool weather in Fresno for the summer months. We have nice neighbors for the most part, but one of them owns a business he runs from his home that is illegal. He runs big trucks and heavy equipment into his back yard along our property line, and they often knock down parts of the fence. The whole neighborhood is up in arms about his business and trucks, but so far he hasn't budged on moving the business. He will replace a fence post now and then if we insist on it, but generally, it falls to us to maintain it. Can you tell we aren't happy about this? Yes, the county is aware. They fine him every few months and threaten him regularly. None of that is doing much good thus far. I personally think that he believes our complaints will eventually fall on deaf ears as we're just a couple of "those" women. Just being women is a strike against us, of course. Ah well, we carry on. The good news is that we can share a few laughs about having to watch getting sunburns on our bald heads together even though we wear hats. We both lather up with sun lotion, but there is always a few spots that seem to get pretty red from time to time. We share our broken fingernail stories and help put on occasional band aids too. It is nice that we share the house and yard work. In fact, we actually enjoy most of it. Oh yes,we share bathroom and kitchen duties too. you'll have to wait for those stories.

Active Again

Okay, I admit to being a slacker in the blogging arena. I think, though, that it was more of a vacation. I was doing all that Cancer stuff, and it took over my life in a way I had not anticipated. I gio through it without many problems, but blogging took a backseat. I missed doing it, of course, but putting words down correctly didn't always happen. Call it what you will: chemo brain, or just laziness. I'll agree with you generally. I'm on a chemo pill now, but the brain seems to be working, and I want to be involved in blogging again. So, here I am putting words in this little box again.

Since this is supposed to be about being married to a Transsexual, trust me when I say that Angela was a rock through all of this - in the best way (not as poundage such as her being a heavy weight to carry around). She provided wonderful nursing when needed and even better support all the time. She, along with several good friends, made the passage much easier than I expected. Trust me when I say that not all spouses are a help. So, yes, this is another great thing about being married to a T!

My Bad

Okay, I've been away from this blog way too long. Can I claim Chemo Brain? How about Radiation Burn? No, alright, I guess I'll just have to take personal responsibility. It is my fault, no question about it. The good news is that all of the chemo and radiation are now behind me. I'll start The Pill on Monday I already had the hard stuff variety of that in my Chemo mix, I'm sure it'll just be a take-one-in-the-morning-and-forget-about-it scenario. So, I have no more excuses, and I'll just have to keep up with the blog from now on.

Angela is the main topic of this blog, and so I report that she hasn't been idle. She's been keeping me in line and taking care of my complaints, of course. She's also put in a tile bathroom floor, built a swing set, put together loads of holiday toys, and is now finishing up on a large 8'x8' playhouse for the girls. No, she didn't fall off a ladder, but she did manage to smash one finger, the drill into her two thumbs with her electric screwdriver. See, I can say/write that with a straight face even. She's my T, that's for sure. The good news is that I was handy with the bandages. I always love working on a project with her because she keeps me smiling.

Hormones!

Hormones are a blessing and a curse. I’ve had it with hot flashes, to put it mildly, and I think it only fair that sometime in her life Angela should be blessed with the same situation, don’t you? Here’s the deal: Way back when, in 1998, when she started on hormones, she got massive doses: 5 full milligrams to my HRT dose of .325 milligrams. That forced teenage puberty. I’ve already written about the joys of having a 57-year-old husband going through the 13-year-old-girl stage. Most of it was fun and funny; I mean how many women get to tell their husband, “go back in there and take off half of that make-up, put on a longer skirt and lower heels?” I also got to give “sage” advice about make-up, perfume (oh lordy, that’s ANOTHER story!), color and hair. It wasn’t long until she became a teenage, and, of course, then she knew everything there was to know, and ‘who the heck was I to be giving advice?’ Ah well. So, back to hormones: since they found the cancer, I have had to be off hormones – completely. That means I'm having Hot Flashes - AGAIN.

When Angela had her surgery, at least for those first couple of weeks afterward anyway, she had to wear a pad. I suppose you could consider that a short-version of a couple ministration cycles. That was it; ho-hum right? That’s okay; but this hot flashes/flushes business is just not fair if you ask me. I figure if I have to have them, so should she, at least sometime in her life, even if it is when she’s eighty.

Better

She's back! My happy wifey is back. Maybe it was "Menopausal." Who knows? Who cares. We girls are allowed to be emotionally volatile, right? Angela included.

We'll be loading up the RV for a trip with RVing Women this weekend. We'll be staying at an RV resort just south of Redding, CA. This is a fun group of women who are accepting of everyone, and how I wish there were more of these type of folks around! We always enjoy ourselves with them, and rain or not, we know we'll have a good time, even though it's a long drive for only a two night stay.

We've had Brooke here for a couple of days, and due to my medical schedule, Angela has had to be primary caregiver when Brooke is here. She's a great babysitter, in addition to being the perfect grandmother. She's the consummate playmate for a 2+ year old, that's for sure.

She keeps me on the straight and narrow, always making sure that my humidifier is going when I come to bed. She makes sure I take a nap every afternoon. She won't let me lift or move things heavier than I'm "allowed," and she's always available for a tension back rub or a rubdown for lymphodemia. Now, those last two are huge in the Helpful Dept, let me tell you.

She's my biggest booster, and the softest soft shoulder, even when I don't think I need one. She's always there to take on that one-more-job I either used to do, or should be doing when I'm taking a nap or at the doctor instead. She never complains, she just does it. You know what? She the long suffering wife, without the suffering. She always makes me laugh, either at her, the situation, or myself. Even when she's blue herself.

What more could I want? Yes, she's the Best. So, yep, all this is just another Best Thing About Being Married to a Transsexual. Don't you wish you had one?

Blue Funk continues

Yep, she's all woman. I'd say she's menopausal, but I don't think that counts under the circumstances

I gave her a nice card and offered to make a day of shopping and going out to a nice dinner. “I don’t want to,” was her reply. Yesterday, I dragged her through a store between doctor appointments, and she lackadaisically only touched a couple of outfits. Even shoes, her number one priority for years, didn’t get her interested. Instead, she complained “wearing those high, high heels that I love caused my bunion, and now I can’t even wear regular high heels for long.” I felt the “boo-hoo,” even if I didn’t hear it.

So, no, we didn’t go out either. We do have a dinner guest joining us this week, and one next week. She can dress up for both of them. So, I’m counting on at least one of them to perk her up. I’m hoping that having a few days of sunshine will help too (forecast for next week).
Keep your fingers crossed.

Beauty crisis

We're having a crisis around here. Angela's SRS was in January 2002. Before and after her surgery, she was beautiful. Her transition took 10 years off her face - all the fine wrinkles were gone, the beard was gone, and the new feminine layer of fat softened all her features. Time passed, and the dosage of HRT lessened, and, of course, she got a little older. She also acquired the laments typical-of-many-females: I’m not pretty enough, and I’m too fat. Yes, she’s gained a little weight. She’s still beautiful to me, and I’m envious of that beauty because I have the same issues, especially now that I have no hair and my eyebrows and eyelashes are falling out too (thanks to chemo!). The main problem, you see though, is that she’s often in blue jeans and a cotton blouse, polo or sweatshirt around the house. The other problem is that we don’t go out where we need to dress up anymore. Most of that is because we’re retired and have less disposable income, but part of that is a choice – we tend to go out to dinner at good, but more casual restaurants like Outback, Applebee’s and such. So, this weekend I’m taking her out for a shopping spree and to a “class joint” for dinner. I’m getting a special card today, to give her tomorrow. We’ll see what happens, and I’ll let you know. (Keep your fingers crossed!)

Wax & Rain

Yeah, I know it is supposed to be ‘wax and wane,’ but I said wax and rain ‘cuz that is what happened to Angela. She spent 2.5 days waxing the RV, only to have it rain through our whole RV trip. Of course, I told her the rain was all her fault. Yes, the weatherman told us rain was on the way, but who believes the weatherman in the winter around here (especially when the forecast is rain)? Now, in the summer, when the weather is always ‘102-3-or 4 degrees and sunny’ – THAT we believe – but not when rain is predicted. So, this weekend, the weatherman said, “Rain,” and that is what we got – gobs of it. Now, Angela, being a morning person, is always first up. She also takes the dogs out for their first walk. This time, the rain was really pelting us. Even so, she kindly took the little beasties out for their 15-minute sniff, doodle around and do their business. Not only that, but she gave them a good rub down when she returned to the RV – without even disturbing me. What a gal! What makes this special? When she was David, even a sprinkle meant, “Jonni, it’s raining out, you’ll have to do the dogs!” So, this is just another one of those Best Things About Being Married to a T.

Little Things

There's an old saying about how "its the little things that count." I'm finding that true in my life with my T. Angela, as David, was always the gentleman; he opened doors, carried the heavy stuff, and did all the guy things. He also helped out in the kitchen and with raising our daughter. Now, I find that all those things continue, only now there is more granddaughter things on her list than helping the daughter things. The little things I'm talking about though, are just about the two of us: She is the one who fills the humidifier every-other-night. She's the one who says, kindly, "don't you think you should wear your compression arm," when I'm doing something unusual (it's for Lymphadema after the cancer surgery). She's the one who always takes the heavy end when we're liftiing something, even though her strength is much less than when she was a man due to the female hormones. She's the one who notices when I'm tired and suggests a break, a rest, or a nap. In short, she is always doing the little things that make my life easier. I appreciate that more than she will ever know. It's great to be married to a Trans!

RVing with a Trans

Ah yes, there are joys unlimited with a transsexual as your RVing partner!

First off, she's the best driver in the world - thanks to years racing cars on tracks. She can evade a problem in a heartbeat - talk about fast reflexes!

Next she can fix almost anything on the RV, and of course, she can pepper any repair person with question (so she can learn more) whether the repairs are for around for Home, Computer, Shop, Car or RV. She has a two year degree in Automotive Mechanics, plus she was a Novell Computer engineer, and she's into woodworking and tile and hardwood floor laying. She's very versatile.

We've been RVing twice because I had a break in my chemo. Last week, we were in Bakersfield, and she helped drain and flush half a dozen ladies hot water heaters, and ours, of course. Additionally, she helped with two other repairs as the local repairman was swamped with orders and couldn't get to them all! There hasn't been anything on our RV she hasn't been able to fix, and her current project is to make a cabinet where the TV was in the bedroom (we don't often watch TV, and certainly didn't need a second one in the bedroom!). What all RVs can use is more storage that's easy to get to. She's a wonder, there's no doubt.

Then there is that "hormones don't change everything" aspect. When we got home, finished unloaded, cleaning and packing everything back in, she wanted to move the RV to is regular parking spot beside the garage. Of course, we'd had multiple rainy days, and the coach is not-exactly a lightweight. The "roadway," if you can call it that, across our east side "back 40" was soaked. Do you think that was a deterrent to her - nope! When she wants to move it, moving it will happen! So, guess what - it sank to its hubcaps! We had to call a tow truck to get it out. Oh well, I love my trans anyway! Just think of all the harassing I can do now - "I told you so," and "hormones don't change everything, dear!"

Trans trumps all

If one ever wanted one of those obvious "the transition made a difference" moments, we had a couple over the last few days. Pre-transition, the Christmas tree always came down the weekend after New Years, if not before. It was like clockwork. All the extraneous stuff started being put away on those days leading up to the weekend, and then on Friday the icicles and garland were removed. Saturday, all the balls were put away. Sunday was a dawn to dusk lights-off-and tree-packed-away marathon. It didn't happen this year. In fact, this first weekend, we've been away on an RV trip, and the Christmas tree is only missing the icicles and the balls. The lights are still twinkling away. Furthermore, instead of immediately diving into the remove- the-lights-and-pack-away-the-tree mode, which would have been 100% the expected pre-transition activity, Angela is at the daughters painting the dining room! That'll be at least a two-day, and probably three-day project, and then we're off on another RV adventure for the weekend. So, the tree will probably not be packed away until we return. There hasn't been a word said about the still standing and partially decorated tree. Additionally, by now, all of the boxes would have found their way into their appointed spots in the attic. Instead, a pile ov boxes remains stacked in the garage, and I note What a Difference a Transition Makes. Aren't Transsexuals wonderful?

Beautiful daughter

The kids came over for dinner last night, and as the evening progressed, both Angela and I noticed how lovely our grown, married, mother of two daughter is as a woman. Sometimes it is difficult to not always think of her as "the kid." She just turned 39, and still looks to be about 19. There are no noticible wrinkles, and when we took her out for dinner for her birthday, the owner noted that she would have carded her had she not known her actual age. She is not only a great daughter, but she's also an excellent mother, and a good wife. We miss not having her around us all-the-time, but its always nice when they come over for their weekly dinner with us, &/or when we babysit the real kids (ages 2 and 6 months). I called her a few minutes ago just to tell her how beautiful we both thought she looked, and we both got a little teary-eyed.

Angela was a great father while Audra was growing up, and she's an equally great at being a grandmother. She plays with the kids like a woman, where she played like a father/male with Audra. She grew up in a less touchy-feely family than mine, and she has converted completely, especially with the grandchildren. She's more likely to be on the floor with one or both of them than I am even. She has infinite patience, and she takes great joy in everything they do. It's a so much fun to watch her interacting with the little ones. She's also built many of their toys - a rocking horse for Christmas last year, a desk/toy box for her birthday, and a whole swingset complex for Christmas this year. Who knows what she'll come up with next year. See, there's another advantage of having a T for a spouse - she can still do the mostly-male activities like building stuff (yes I hold the board or an end of the measurer, and I great at handing tools to Angela). She's also caring and gentle as a mother/grandmother can be. I am so lucky to have her!