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.