I know. I've been away too long.

So long, in fact, that the vast majority of people probably don't remember I was ever here. Regardless, it seemed about the right time to make my presence known.

Let me tell you, I wish I could borrow Doc Brown's DeLorean for about five minutes. I'd go back to last Friday and persuade myself not to go out for coffee. Or anywhere else for the next seven days.

As I left, I failed to notice that my chair was drifting off the sidewalk--with motorized chairs, there are unfortunately some blind spots. Consequently, it's hard to see in front of me in those areas. Anyway, when my chair went over the edge of the sidewalk, it landed sideways and dumped me out on the asphalt.

A book on writing I'm currently reading says the reason most aspiring novelists are rejected by publishers is that their core concept is weak. That is, they need more of a "hook" to build a story around.

I haven't been stopping in much lately, as I've spent much of the last several months binge-watching online movies and videos (an activity which, sadly, has taken the place of writing). Ironically, the movie I was watching last night might very well summon the writing muse again.

In other words, after weeks of dieting and exercise, I've come to the unsettling realization that I was more passable when I was fat. (Less fat means my features are more angular and hence, less feminine). I essentially lost my best asset when I lost the weight, and earlier today, I suffered the consequences.

It was a good day. I'd been pretty good about trying to eat healthy and and at least cut down on the bad stuff, and the results are beginning to show. The weather was warmer than it's been over the past week, with the promise of it becoming warmer still tomorrow. All in all, nothing to complain about.

That's usually a danger sign. It's like an open invitation to God/Fate/the cosmos to give me their worst. And sure enough, that's exactly what happened.

As I believe in (among other things) total honesty, I have to say, I love recognition.

No, that's not quite accurate. "Crave it like a drug" would be closer to the truth.

Even so, I find myself at a loss when I'm recognized for all the wrong reasons.

This past Tuesday, I and the fellow residents of the apartment complex in which I live took part in an annual trip that's become sort of our farewell to summer. (As summers in Wisconsin have a kind of "blink and you'll miss it" quality, we get our goodbyes in early).

Sweet flying spaghetti monster, I thought I'd never have to deal with this again. Especially not from one of our own.

As I was making my way home from my monthly transgender support group meeting, I ended up behind someone obviously transgender herself--someone vaguely familiar.

It turns out she lives in the same apartment complex I do. After years of being the only transgender tenant, apparently I have company.