dog mania

I need a vacation from my baby sister's vacation.

We're quite busy.

Not to mention, I'm eating the worst foods.  All my allergy foods, and now I'm kinda in addiction mode.  No problem.  Veggie day today.  All day.  Only veggies.  That will take care of that!

So, it wasn't a surprise to me when I found there was a bit of a Hurricane Andréa sighting in the house this morning.

It didn't help that I had the Housemaid come trying to get more money out of us this morning.

We had made the mistake of feeling sorry for her, and decided we would use her to get the rocks we so desperately need for our front area to protect us from those waves.

Those waves are CRAZY today!  Our yard will be washed away if we don't get a barrier.

But again yesterday, she tried to tell us we need to pay off the authorities in order to do it.

I just looked at her and said, "Fine.  No more money.  No more Marina.  No rocks."

I find it 'interesting' that she returned this morning, saying there was no need for Mr. Extortion now.

Somehow, she got 'permission', which was explained to me while I was trying to do my morning routine today.

I think I need a sign on all the doors.

"Do not disturb the gringo while she's eating breakfast.  There will be swift consequences.  It is her blog time."

So, I'm doing my blog after the fact, but, like I said, makes for a bitchy, Pissy Face.

Anyway, I'm also a little tired from trying to keep up with my baby sister and family.

Today, they're on an excursion, so we're going to pick up another dog.

I mean, what else should we be doing other than picking up another dog?

She's only 4 months and should prove to be a GIANT hound.

She's an Irish wolfhound crossed with a rottweiler, so, imagine a really tall, bearded rottweiler.

She's another rescue.  Well, here in the Dominican Republic, almost all the dogs are rescues.  Not too many people buy their dogs from breeders.

Except Mr. Richy Rich next door.  He OBVIOUSLY got his 3 rottweilers from a breeder.

Fine dogs those ones.  They walk like a school of fish.  Their rottweiler asses switch back and forth, in an equal, graceful gait, with every gargantuan step they take.  Mouths open in a half smile, heads turning in tandem from any noise that might be grabbing their attention.

Gorgeous!!!

Anyway, we're good with mutts and Dominican dogs.

So, while my sister is out giving candy and school supplies to the Haitian village kids, we'll be bringing home another dog.

The people at AAAS were grateful that we tried out Mr. Majestic.  Now they have excellent information about him, so that they could market him for the right family.

It made me feel so much better.  It felt like we weren't just dropping off a dog because we gave up.  We were giving some family the proper information so that he could be placed in a home where he gets the right attention, and perhaps doesn't have to feel like he's failing all the time.

How horrible it must be to always be told you're doing the wrong things?!?!

He'll go to a family where he'll be the greatest guard dog, be told he's wonderful and live happily ever after.

Old Ghost Face is doing so much better now!  She's come up for cuddles, and even came into the house for 10 minutes.

Well, not really on her own.

Papi sorta 'lovingly' dragged her in to let her know she's allowed.

The visit didn't last too long.  I don't think she's ever been in a house.

But here we are.

Dog mania.

Dogs.

Nothing but dogs.

I'm in heaven.

healthy foods taste better

The Final Countdown.

Papi's 2nd surgery is coming up in 3 weeks.

The countdown commences.

All I care about is not allowing my back to spaz out before that day.

It can freak out all it wants until the 27th, but after that, it has to behave for at least 2 weeks.

My love won't be able to even sit up on his own.

I had a laparoscopy that hurt enough, never mind a hysterectomy.

I will behave and not clean the tub any later than a week before Dr. Scissorhands is set to do the deed.

I feel ok about this one, maybe because I know that my love has had pre-cancerous cells in the past.

Maybe it's also because I won't notice the difference.

Ok, that's not completely true.

Apparently my love doesn't need to take as much of the hormones once that uterus is snagged away.

Taking out this organ will cause less estrogen in the body.

I suppose that's why we see old ladies with beards.

Anyway, as the surgery nears closer, it seems to also be taking up more of my thoughts.

This blob/blab is going to be short today.

I get to see one of my dearest friends for lunch.

And a beautiful day it will be, regardless of the overcast skies that threaten us with autumn showers.

I hope your day brings you joy as well.

The Princess and the 'T'

"Honey guess what I'm getting?!?"

i'm afraid to ask ... so i won't

"I'm getting sideburns!" Papi said and jumped onto the bed.

I honestly looked with all the bleary eyed vision I could, but I didn't see anything.  Then Papi continued, "You'll have to get a magnifying glass to see it but it's there!!!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed at my love, and I was immediately reproached, "Don't try to say you can't see it!  Don't lie!  Honey can you see it?!?"

I finally spoke, "All I see is mole hair."

"HONEY!!!!" Papi yelled and the bed seemed to be having it's very own earthquake as mi esposo crawled up close as possible to be sure there was a cheek stuffed right in my face.  Even Sir Bark-A-Lot felt the fear and his eyes widened in fear of the possibility of a giant human trampling him.

No.

I didn't see it, but all of a sudden, Papi was at an angle that enabled me to see something else.  My eyes must have bugged out of my head, because my love could tell what I was looking at.

"Yeah!  See!  Under my chin, I've got more hair!!"

Indeed.  There was more hair under my love's chin.  Coarse, black hair that was definitely the beginning of my fear of the beard.

I couldn't deny this one.  There was definitely hair there, "Yeah, I see it," I said with not as much enthusiasm as my love wished for.

I just can't be happy for it.

Shaggy, stubly, smelly, dirty beard hair is not on my list of 'likes'.  We all know that by now.

My love only wants a soul patch, and it seems that's where it's not growing.

i still don't see the sideburns

A soul patch is much different than a full on man hair beard.

I get reports daily about the various people that will either call my love a girl or a boy.  It was the same before all the poisons started being injected into my love's body.

I still don't like the hormones.

I still don't like that stuff careening through Papi's blood.

I still have moments where I feel like bargaining.

I guess this means I'm still not past the 5 stages of grief.  I'm definitely in a better place than I was in December, but damn!!!  I have yet to find utter peace at the end of the path.

rainbows and puppy dogs and my butch back in my arms ...

I know that everyone who has followed my journey says I'm doing well, moving fast, being strong, but I just don't know if I will ever be out of denial.

all i see is my butch

I still don't have pronouns down, and I'm not sure as to when I will.

Well, other than when we get to the Dominican Republic.  I'll be speaking in Spanish, so I will be using the proper pronouns there.

But here?

Nope.

I just keep repeating my love's name.  I sound like a teen who can't stop talking about her first true love.

And I'll tell you, saying Papi's name over and over, in front of every sentence, non-stop is a bit aggravating to me, so I can't imagine how annoying it must be to others!

None-the-less, I continue to work through this.

My bargaining stage flows in and out, and I never speak it out loud.  I just think it, "Maybe you could just be without breasts and forget about this male transformation thing as a whole."

No.

I never say it out loud.  I just imagine it.

I envision my love saying, "These hormones aren't giving me a soul patch that I want so there's no point in being on them anymore."

i am a princess in a fairy tale land ...

Time for a holiday

The fear of the unknown is what's scary.

Well, to me anyway.

I need to know what's coming.  I need to have a good vision in my head of what will be.

This truly is why I've had anxiety since I was a kid.

I remember lying in bed at the ripe age of 8, and had just learned more about the universe.  I had learned how it goes on forever.

My immature brain just couldn't comprehend this information.

to be quite honest, i still can't get it

I would think to myself: but it has to end because everything ends.  So what's at the end?  A pasture of cows?  But then that has to end too!  So what's after that?!?! Something has to be after that!!!!

I would lie awake and my thoughts would go on and on and I'd get more panicked because it just didn't make any sense.  Everything has edges!

Even a circle has an outer edge!  And after that edge is air, but then the air would end with the next article full of molecules that may be beside it.

I wouldn't sleep because of the terror of this new information that just wasn't logical.  It was my first experience of anxiety driven insomnia.  I didn't know there would be more to come.

The unknown.

it's amazing i don't have an ulcer by now

I was looking at the cute 4 pane picture that Papi and I got at a photo booth in Seattle on one of our tattoo expeditions.

Mi esposo es guapo!

Si, Papi es caliente!  This is something I know.  I look at that pic full of love and laughs, and I see such a gorgeous spouse.

My fear of the unknown is that Papi will be unattractive.  I'm starting to see this as a wee bit silly.

If my love is attractive now, then that should stay the same, no?  It's not like mi esposo is going in for the 'hideous plastic surgery package'.  There's no appointments for getting a larger nose, buck teeth, a wandering eye, a triple chin, a very high forehead and lack of neck.

No, this isn't what's happening.

I look at this picture in terms of the now.  It was only taken a couple of weeks ago, and Papi is still as attractive and good hearted as that day.  I'm still feeling gratitude that I'm married to an amazing being.

But that little girl?  Oh, she's in there.  She's telling me lies about how the unknown is utterly terrifying.  She's telling me that there will be one scary being to look forward to.

The vision she throws at me is really not nice.  All she can see is a middle aged, pot bellied, male pattern balding 'man', with a gross bushman beard.

I'm not a fan of facial hair.  Papi knows this.  But my love really wants the experience of having that manly trait.

all i see is that picture that has scarred me for life ...

The little girl is so afraid of this happening.

The little girl needs to take a chill pill.  But then, that would probably have her cascading into another fit of addiction.

The eternal get away.

She just wants a 'thought vacation'.

The games 'Wii' play ...

I had a dream my Dr. actually ok'd anti-anxiety medication.  I was holding a beautiful, sparkling bottle of clonazepam.  I stared, counting each pill to see how many days I would feel it was easier to get through this phase.

Alas, this is not the case.

I have to keep working out these fears on my own, drugfree.

It's so very frustrating, because I never had any anxiety/panic attacks before the brain injury from my motorcycle accident.

The other half, is I didn't have this type of social anxiety before my love dropped the bomb about the male transformation.

The social anxiety is not about the transformation, but about how people will react in my presence.

I have a completely different anxiety about my love's male transformation, but the fear of how people will treat Papi and I has turned into a full on fear of people in general.

This has now extended into difficulty in leaving the house.  Even when I need to go shopping, I feel as though every eye in the store is watching, judging, waiting to pounce.

I put on the strongest smile possible and speak with excitable tweets in an effort to be the non-threatening face, persuading strangers not to speak with cruelty.

The omega.  The child who needs to be loved.

It can be a perfectly beautiful day outside, and I just stare out the window, as though I've created my own lockup.

My twisted mind that weaves my world into another hemisphere has struck again.

I'm not in the pit of doom anymore, however, I'm now stuck in a detention cell.

It's as though I am a living video game; every level has something else to conquer before I reach the end of this heart pounding amusement ride.

The feeling that I can't defend against the creeps and critters that would say harmful words has shifted slightly.  I now feel that I could defend Papi, just not myself.  However, I still feel that it would be done from a place of fear rather than strength.

Regardless, it's a start of the new level.

Papi is still testing the waters about speaking of the day that there is a hormone injection.  Every time I hear about it, the nauseating stress wells up.

My love threw it in nonchalantly when speaking about the horrendous day that happened yesterday, and that one of the stressful moments was because of, "that thing you don't want to hear about."

My dear.

Do you not understand what I mean by, "I don't want to know, or hear about it"?

Then my impish love wanted me to feel the stubble on that changing chin skin.

I wouldn't do it.

Jeeeeeezus my love!  I don't want to know!  I can only deal with one thing at a time!!!

In a sly act, Papi asked to see my glove, pulled it off to take a look, then grabbed my hand, forcing it against the chin stubble, rubbing it back and forth with great giggles of victory, "See!  It's soft!"

With my tongue in cheek, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and pressed the elevator button with a choreographed sigh.

"You're a jerk and no, it wasn't 'soft'!"

It felt like memories past; horrid razor-like shards of glass.  Those nasty prickly strands would rub my skin leaving red, streaking welts of evidence that the bristles had been there.

I don't like it, and I've told Papi oh so many times.  I suppose because I love my soul mate so dearly, mi esposo feels I'll just get over it and it will grow on me (pun intended).

I love Papi deeply, but that doesn't mean I have to like everything.  We all have traits in other that bother us in relationships, but never would I have imagined that the thorn in my side would be 'man hair' on my love's perfect skin.

Wish me luck in my game.

When do I reach the next level?

Exorcism

Taking a road trip to Bellingham was not the smartest of ideas while I'm still recovering from a recent back spasm.  I had to take so many pain killers last night that I woke up to those same swollen eyes that percolated as a result of 6 weeks of crying.

I was supposed to get a photo done for my new passport today.

Uhhhh ...

Ain't gonna happen.

This femme is adamant that there will be a pretty face in that booklet to be studied by embassadors of countries other than my own.

I felt my love slink into our temporary bed at 8:30 a.m., spooning my dopey, drugged body.  Therefore, I know Papi will be sleeping all day and not hijacking my newest plans of a gentle repair day, filled with back care stretches and eating of healthy veggies to clear my system out of the carb overload I indulged in, that was oh-oh-oh daaaaaamn good.

The pain I'm feeling today is forcing me to walk with a cane, but it was worth the fun I benefited from.  I had a full, bustling with cheer day with Papi.  It really doesn't matter what we do together, there will always be deep belly laughs.

Well, now that I'm out of the pit of doom that is.

I'm in a safe place where I can listen to the excitement that Papi is overflowing with.  There is exuberant joy from something as simple as chin hair.

I have to admit, I stare at it all the time now, but doesn't harm my heart.  It is simply a phenomenon of, 'how the hell did I wind up here'?

Papi's tuft doesn't look like beard hair, it looks more like Shaggy from Scooby Doo.  It adds to the character of my love; the goofy soul mate that I adore.

On our day together, I finished my love's sentences, answered questions that Papi hadn't finished asking and commented before mi esposo had completed a mouthful of an observation.  All of this walked me to an opportunity of strength to realize; the male transformation isn't stealing everything from me.

I still get to keep this amazing heart along with those gorgeous eyes.

I suppose I should make a nice shelf for this trophy to sit upon so that I may look at them when I have another rough patch.

Another prize I have earned?  A spontaneous soul that wakes me before my sleep is finished, and replaces my Saturday layout with a spur of the moment change of plans.

A person who, while we're on a mission for cupboards, happens to find the 'right' tattoo artist to do touch ups of a tattoo that was received during our honeymoon.

Papi tried to convince said tattoo artist to permanently imprint a heart with our wedding date embossed for the world to see.  A tattoo that would make people ask, "What's the date for?" giving Papi an opportunity to gloat about our grand day.

Unfortunately, mi esposo didn't get to have this declaration visible to the masses.  The artist was on an apprenticeship and didn't feel comfortable working with neck skin.

However, it truly was the thought that counts.

This is my love.  This is the person I stood hand in hand with, eyes locked on one another, in front of 180 witnesses who blessed the union of our bond.

The conclusion that I might not make it through this marriage is a venom that is gradually evaporating through my pores.

Good riddance demons.

Oh, I know there's a few of you hanging around in there.  My suggestion is that you leave peacefully before I kick your ass.