This year for Christmas, my kids are going with the ex to her parents' place in Vail. They left this morning. My parents and my sister can't afford to fly here this year, and I can't afford to even take the time off, let alone travel. I don't have any close relatives within a thousand miles. I don't even have any pets at the moment, a highly unusual circumstance for me. So, for the first time in my entire life, I will be spending Christmas completely alone, at least in the sense of not having any family around.
I'm bummed I can't go to Southern Comfort this year and meet up with the intrepid troop of TopShelfers who will be taking it by storm, but it turns out there's an annual TG conference here in Seattle, over Labor Day weekend.
So, if you read my last blog entry, you know I've been waiting (and waiting, and waiting, and waiting) to hear back about a job I interviewed for (and if you didn't read it, you know now).
So, today I had my first in-person, face-to-face job interview since I transitioned a couple of months ago. I haven't heard back officially yet, but it felt like... but I'm getting ahead of the story. Let me back up a bit.
I've been served with papers and need someone to advise me. Trans-friendly of course, sharp and thorough but preferably not out for blood. I'd know just who to go to if I lived in Penmarris Cove, but though I feel like it at times, I'm not a character in a Susan Brown tale.
Even if no one is hurt, even if the other car looks like it lost a fight with a brick wall while the only damage to yours is a piece of styrofoam from the other car's front bumper wedged into the rim of your rear wheel.
Especially if you're transitioning (as I am), already 24/7 but some of your documentation shows your new name, some shows your old one, and none shows the correct sex. Hey, I only changed my name legally a week ago.
Over the course of the past seven months my elderly Dalmatian passed away while I held her; I've lost my job, used up my credit, and had to put my house up for sale; had my wife of thirteen years request a divorce, get her own place and move out; developed skin cancer (albeit a relatively mild form); and just this past week, had our beloved miniature schnauzer, our only pet, escape and get run over and killed by a speeding van.
A few folks (you know who you are, Angel, Sephrena, John, and Hope) have recently added some inordinately (in some cases shamelessly) flattering comments to a couple of previous Leeway installments. I mean jeez, thanks for the encouragement and all, but if my head gets any bigger it will explode. *blushing furiously*
Since I started posting Leeway, I've somehow managed to get a new installment ready consistently each Saturday morning. I'm afraid that's going to change going forward. I've come to the end of the chapters I had already written when I started, and in spite of my best intentions I've only been able to find time to edit and polish each installment in time to post it, not to write any significant new material.
Checks can be made out & sent to:
Joyce Melton
1001 Third St.
Space 80
Calimesa, CA 92320
USA
Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.
