too bad you're such assholes.

Everything is relative.  Like, for instance, how we in Vancouver react to the snow.

I found particular happiness in this day of pillowy poofs falling from the sky, but only because I was warm and dry.

A few years ago, Papi gave me a pair of Sorel boots.

Initially, Papi laughed at me when I left the house in these boots, because our snow doesn't usually warrant this kind of boot attention, but I assured him, I'm not messing around when it comes to being comfortable in this weather.

I refuse to suffer.  I don't care what I look like.

While waiting at the bus stop, for half an hour for a bus that should come by every 10 minutes, I noticed a woman with shoes on, but no socks or jacket.

It was clear she was mentally ill, by the way she was behaving.  So, I guess she dressed herself.  I was sure she must have been cold.

We can't just assume people want help.  She may have felt insulted if I asked her if I could buy her some socks, and who knows what kind of reaction I might have gotten, so I just watched for a while, hoping to ease into a conversation.

Then she started talking with the woman who was upset about missing her granddaughter's school play, because the bus just wasn't showing up.

She seemed happy enough, so I let it go with gratitude for my warm boots, scarf and coat.  Some people can handle the cold.

Along came a man who didn't speak English very well, but I could understand when he asked me how long the bus would take.

I assured him, "It will be here, it's just going to take a little time and patience.  The streets are a little nasty right now."

Like coincidental clockwork, the moment I said that, a car got stuck on the road in front of our bus stop.  I chuckled and said, "Well, I guess she's not going anywhere!  That's pretty funny!"

Of course I found it funny!  I wasn't the one stuck in the car!  No matter.  The guys behind the lady hopped out of their car and gave her a push.  She was moving in no time and these dudes were granted their karma for the day.

However, the man at the bus stop said, "You think it's funny?"

I had to admit, "Well yeah, kinda," even though my chipper mood was soon to be squelched.

He looked down at his feet, and my eyes followed his.  His feet were absolutely sopped, plus the wet, cold snow was crawling up his jeans towards his knees, no different from a sponge absorbing water.

He was obviously cold.  He replied, "I don't think this is very funny."

I asked him, "Do you not have boots?"  I was hoping he'd just say that he wasn't prepared and didn't put them on this morning.

"No," he said.  He sorta shrugged with a 'you don't get it' chuckle, looking down to the ground, "I'm poor."

I looked at his open jacket, "Well, can you do your jacket up to try to stay warmer?"

"No, my zipper is broken.  It's my only jacket."

I almost cried and offered him my vibrant green, cashmere scarf Papi had bought me at a Xmas past.  I thought he'd look ridiculous in it, but his neck would be warm.  My boots certainly wouldn't fit him.

He giggled at my offer, "No, but thank you."

I discreetly asked him if he was on welfare, and when he said he was, I reminded him that there is available clothing for him and to should ask his social worker for help.

He told me he was actually just on his way to The Salvation Army today to get a coat.

I have always maintained that I would never give a penny to The Salvation Army, because they're almost as hateful as the Wesboro Baptist Church when it comes to their homophobia and lack of spirituality.

At least the bastards can be used by us gays in our own way.  The Salvation Army doesn't have to know if this guy is straight or gay, they will still give him clothing.

I would love to donate to help someone like the man I met yesterday, but I just can't.  I hope he at least gets a jacket that does up, but more importantly, boots for the winter.

I hope for today, you're all dry and warm, no matter what your sexuality is.

i matter, and also what i have to offer this world matters

speechless

"Ok.  We're back.  So now we have to talk about it.  These are YOU'RE 'rules'."

I guess Papi's right.

While my love was texting, the woman in the phone that automatically corrects mi esposo's spelling was frantically trying to keep up to Papi's maniacal typing.

It blurts out things like, "Capitol I," and other words, that perhaps it finds a more suitable option.  One word stuck out for me, however.

"Denial."

So, I had to ask, "Why are you writing denial?  Who's in denial?"

My love answered, "I'm talking to **a Trust List friend** and telling her how you're in denial about my top surgery."

is that something like, if i ignore it, it will go away?

Maybe I am.  Maybe I'm just trying to stay on vacation, even though when we got off the plane it felt like I could see my breath.

toto, we're not in kansas anymore ...

But seriously, I'm new to the male transformation gig!  I don't know how to deal with this other than to ignore it!

Alright.  I'm in denial.  But that doesn't mean that I'm not going to accept it when it happens in less than a week.

i think i just threw up in my mouth a bit, or maybe that was the eggs telling me i still have a parasite?

The Countdown is increasingly more anxiety driven.

4 days until Dr. Scissorhands #1 gets his game on.

i promise i will play 'nice'. i promise not to give him the stink eye or the death stare.

I watched Papi get the video camera ready for mi esposo's taping of the experience.  My love eagerly charged the batteries, put in a new tape, and made sure everything was running well.

I also watched Papi go nutty getting ready for the flight to Florida.  My love basically came home, did laundry, had 2 sleeps, and then will be off as a frequent flyer.

Mi esposo leaves today.  I'll be at work when Papi is en route to the airport, and at the end of my day, when I park my bus in the lot, mi esposo's plane will be leaving 15 minutes later.

I will stay in the lot and watch my love go, unless I'm off early.  If I'm off in time, I'll go sit under the plane route on a little bench they've made especially for this day.

the narcissist in me is sure that it's just for me. it's all about me.

Either way I will be able to watch Papi's plane take off.  The airport is basically a 5 minute drive from where we park those yellow 'short buses'.

Work will be difficult today, as it will be my first shift alone since doing my last gradual return in November.  You know the one?  Where I was doing my first return, but fell, then have been off for 6 months again?

Anyway, it's going to be tough, but it will probably keep my mind off things to come.

4 days ... it whispers from the pit of doom ... it's breath is hideously rank

I just sat and stared at the screen for 5 minutes, so I suppose I'm done for today.

I don't know what else to say right now other than, thank you, my imaginary friend, for another day of an open ear, and a shoulder.  Things are going to get tough now.

I'm grateful you're here.

Quite the day, I'll tell ya.

"Don't you think you should touch it before it becomes something that will traumatize you?"

Meekly, I answered, "I'm too scared."

the 5 foot vagina is coming.

Papi tried to reason, "It's just a swollen clit."

Ok, maybe it is.  Been there ... had that, but I just wanted to enjoy the fact that I'm not being triggered every time we have sex.  I just wanted to enjoy Papi.

don't take this away from me my love!  i just got you back!

At the beginning of this day, Papi woke up and told me we're going on a road trip.  Just a day trip, but to beautiful Whistler mountain, only a few hours north.

Brain injury prevailed.  I forgot that we were going to a higher altitude, which means snow.

duh!  it's a fucking ski mountain!!!

With my mind being so much more simple now, I dressed for the Vancouver weather outside my door.

Goddamit it I was fucking cold up there, but it was so beautiful.

It was during my putting shoes on that Papi wanted to bring 'it' up.  Tears welled as I told my love it means my 'wife' is getting closer to leaving me.

"I just don't want to lose you so fast."

please don't cry!  i want to look pretty for our day trip.

Mi esposo was standing talking to me while I was sitting.  I felt like the child was being scolded.

"Can you please sit, sweety?"

After getting out the words about my love leaving me by taking more hormones, Papi surprised me with, "If it's hurting you this much, I'll talk to my doctor and see if I can stay on this dose."

We'll see.  Papi HAS promised other things about the hormones before and reneged.

Off we went, with dogs in tow, to the great white north!  I'm a terrible Vancouverite.  It's only the third time I've been to Whistler and it's right in my back yard!

Well, it's mostly because I don't ski, but you don't really have to be a skier, snowboarder, etc to see this beautiful corner of our province.

After the dogs had their day in the snow,

(oh dear one eyed retriever, how sweet it is to see you roll in the powder ...)

... it was time for dinner, and we had a really shitty experience at the first restaurant.

Papi had time to accost me about 'it'.  I froze again.  I could only answer my love's questions with nods of the head, or shaking it back and forth.

Most of the time it was a nod of the head, due to our being able to know what the other is thinking now.  It's creepy!!

Now to the second restaurant, filled our bellies, and with sleepy dogs, we began the drive home on that long windy highway, yet more processing commenced.

"I don't think you should come with me to the appointments anymore."

"But I want to support you!"

"But it traumatizes you every time you go.  I can bring someone else."

"Then I won't feel like I'm the one supporting you."

Very gently Papi said, "But sweety, you kinda don't support me in this anyway."

dagger to my heart

In the silence, knowing that this would have hurt me, my love said, "I know you're trying really hard, and you're doing really good, but do you have to put yourself through more difficulty?"

I just can't imagine not being there for every step of this journey for my love.  Even if it kills me, I just don't know if I could handle it being someone else that Papi uses as the support person.

It was a lot of dealing for one day.

Today I have to let my heart take it all in.  What a day.

There's no place like home ...

Wouldn't it be nice if we could click our heels together and just warp on home?  I'd have to click my chunky, neanderthal Sorel boots together.

Funny how people from this iceberg of a town will jump from their house to the car to the store to the car to the house in one fell swoop, in only a sweatshirt, jeans and a pair of runners.

Meanwhile, I have on 2 pairs of wooly socks, said Sorels, long johns under jeans (not a good look for this femme ... good lord! gimme back my sexy jeans booty), 2 waffle shirts, a sweater that makes me look pudgy, a long wool coat (oh, thank you My Person), my only scarf, a pair of girly gloves under my love's manly gloves and a wool hat that squishes my hair down, forcing me to try to fluff it up again once it's removed.

It seems that people will point and laugh, saying to themselves, "You're not from 'round here are ye".  But they smile while they look at me and politely say, "Well, aren't you looking all cozy!"

My sister will giggle and defend me, "She's from Vancouver, she's not used to this weather."  They smile and nod, getting the punchline.

When I'm at home I wear just a few layers less in the 'winter' that we experience.  It's really not a chill that we get and I see that now, having come to a place where you step out of the door, and pray you don't have to sniffle.  Your nostrils will freeze together in an instant.

Yes, when I'm home I'm a drama queen about the 'cold', even though we don't have a cutting chill like here.

On my mini-holiday, my bedtime is the best time of the day.  I get to speak to Papi.  Normally, my bedtime would be sweet texts to each other before my love gets down to the bulk of work at the graveyard shift and I will read a book with drooping eyelids to stop the day's thoughts from whirling in my head.

Here, our texts are million dollar tippity-taps, so we hop on to my Facebook 'trust page' and chat away for free. 

It's the best way to finally get my much needed love from mi esposo.  It's a strange feeling though.  When I go to that 'chat' it's like talking to my best friend, not the love that I'm so torn about.  I can speak about 'it' with a little more ease, even though we don't really have space for it while we're downloading our day. 

Regardless, I may have found a way to communicate a little easier.

Interesting though, that Facebook was a place I had to avoid so that I wouldn't jump into the pit of doom, until I had my 'trust page'.

I'm happy to have it.  On my public page I would never turn on my chat, because I'd be getting pop ups of that desperate 'talk to me!' sound from people I really don't know very well, and it seems they really have nothing to say.  They just want to make contact with someone.  That's bound to happen when you 600+ people in your 'friends' list.

On my 'trust page', there are a massive group of 15 people.  Every single one of them I want to hear from.  Every little pop up makes my heart gush with joy to have the contact I so need from the people I know love me and I can trust with 'it'.

Yet there's one pop up that means the world to me.  In just over 24 hours I get to have my sweet kisses from mi esposo.  I get to see that gorgeous face smile at me as I eagerly leave the corrider from the plane and wait for my luggage with Papi.  I'll get warm, strong cuddles.

Then we get to go to our skeleton of a home.

Our sewage flood destroyed home will look a little better to me than when I left.  Our barren castle will look full.  Our insanity of 6 animals will seem calm.

Click, click, click. 

Damn.  Didn't work.

I'll have to settle for the plane.