Taillights Fade… For "Him" :-p

Hi all!

It is hard to believe, but it is just over 18 hours until "he" bids goodbye and I am myself - finally, and for good. :D

It barely seems real. This week has been a whirlwind, as you might imagine. I will have to write more over the weekend, but everything is going according to plan at work.

(My family… well, that is another story. But this is not their time any longer.)

My manager arrived in town today. She had a meeting with the managers in the satellite office where I work. On Tuesday, she and P, her boss, had met with the management team yesterday and told them what was happening.

Shortly after that meeting, I had a visit at my desk from AS, one of my work friends and a fellow baseball and hockey fanatic like your humble blogstress. (I will call him that to differentiate him from A, my friend who works as a tester in my group. More on her in a moment!)

"Hey… got a minute?" he asked with a grin.

I smiled, knowing immediately what he wanted to talk about.

"For you, absolutely," I replied, mock-solemn.

"Might want to grab your coffee there too," he said, his grin growing wider.

So I did.

We chatted for 45 minutes or so, during which he promised his full support. We made plans to go out to lunch so we can chat more about my transition and transitioning in general.

As we walked back to our desks, he asked me if I still was going to be a die-hard Mariners fan (the woebegone Seattle baseball team that has a seemingly unshakable grip on my heart).

"Darned right I am!" I told him, hands on my hips in mock-anger.

He shook his head sadly.

"And here I always thought women were smarter than men." :-p

***

I also told my friend A, mentioned above, as well. (Hi A! :D)

She was wonderfully supportive, just as I had expected. As soon as I told her, she broke into a huge smile.

"Congratulations! I am so happy for you! Also… welcome to the cool team (i.e. girls)!" lol

I showed her several pictures of my transition (she told me I looked "adorable" :#)), and immediately told me that we need to go shopping - as in, as soon as possible. Clearly, she and S will be formidable allies in helping me build a wardrobe. Lord knows I need the help!

As A was leaving at the end of the day, she came by my desk to tell me she was going to be working in the other office on Thursday. Since I plan to work at home on Friday (to give my co-workers some time to absorb the news without my presence), she won't see me until I come into work on Monday as myself for the first time.

"Goodbye, <my boy name>," she said with a smile. "For real this time!"

Only a few more hours to go until I can say the same thing. :D

***

I didn't realize I hadn't posted this photo until a few minutes ago, when I was looking through iPhoto:

The way-cool teal hat comes courtesy of my NJ friend C, who can clearly teach me a thing or two about style herself! Good to know I have a trusted panel of advisers to whom I can turn. :-p Thank you again, hon - I will be putting it to good use this winter, if December is any guide. Brrrr!!!

***

A great song from one of Boston's own: Buffalo Tom's "Taillights Fade," from 1992's Big Red Letter Day album:

And another killer tune: "Summer," from 1995's Sleepy Eyed:

I can personally attest to their power as a live act, as you can no doubt see and hear for yourself. Great band - and still going strong today, I am heartened to report. Check them out - you will not be disappointed!

Prelude, Plus Some Quick Tidbits and Musings

Finally getting around to finishing a post about some news in Cass's little corner of the world. I will be finishing - and posting - it tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Follow below the fold for a few items from the past week if you are so inclined.

(It includes shoes - specifically boots - among other things, in case you are wondering. Or am I the only person who would find that intriguing?)

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Oh Brother

Hi everyone.

As I have noted before, I try to be as honest as possible with my posts.

Even, perhaps especially, when it is not something positive.

I am afraid this is another one of those posts.

I finally had the opportunity to come out to my brother, F, and sister-in-law, T, today.

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Emotional Weather Report

Happy Saturday, everyone!

I wanted to write a follow-up post about how I am feeling in the wake of coming out to my parents last Sunday.

And once I ran across the Tom Waits song I used for the title of this post on my iPod, I realized I *had* to write something, just so I can spotlight such a wonderful song. :c)

Bottom line: I am feeling a bit better every day.

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Independence Day

Yesterday was a huge day in my transition. 

And in my life.

I came out to my parents. 

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A Tale of Two Cows

There is a story attached to these two cows.

I recently received them from a friend.

They now occupy a place of pride in my home.

Why? 

Read on. :c)

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Conversations With C: He Knows :c)

Tonight was another big night.

I came out to my nephew C.

Yup, my world famous nephew C.

How did it go?

Follow me below the fold!

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Crazy Days... and a Big Decision

Well, I started this post about a half-dozen times since last Friday… but things kept happening that made me realize I had to start over. Again. lol 

I told M, my therapist, on Saturday that I feel as if I'm living "light-weeks" since starting to transition. She laughed… until I ran through the events of the week. Then she shook her head and expressed her amazement at how much I try to cram into one week!

Last week was particularly packed, so much so that I could write posts about pretty much everything that happened. A few were bad, most were good. And I made a pretty darn big decision. 

I'll do my best to write about at least SOME of these in the days to come. And hope that things stay calm enough to let me do so. :c)

So, without further ado:

***

The bad news first: I didn't get the job. Not much to say about that, but it's very disappointing. 

Good news: I'm pretty sure I'm NOT going to the other office, the one that would make my transition exponentially more difficult. That may change… but I think I'm safe for the time being.

This means I can finally move out of my parents house - which M told me flat out on Saturday is absolutely essential. "That is a toxic environment for you," she said, adding that she did not use that term lightly.

I've scheduled visits to look at several apartments in the next few days. I want to be in my new home by mid-September at the latest. The sooner the better… for reasons you'll soon understand.

Bad news: I lost my claddagh ring, which has a great deal of sentimental value to me. M, however, had a different take on it, which I will share in another post.

Good news: I came out to four more friends last week: my friends R & B, who are married, and my friend T2 and her daughter M. I will absolutely write about this as well, as both conversations were quite powerful. (T2 and I both cried several times.) It's wonderful to share my news with the people I love… but it is draining too. All part of the process, I suppose.

Good news: the Newport Folk Festival was superb. Again, I will write more about it, but for now, I will say this:

GARY CLARK JR is AMAZING. Prepare to be awed:

He was ASTONISHING, as you can see. And hear. :c)

I'll post some of my pics in another post. They turned out well, I think, mostly because my new camera truly IS idiot-proof. lol Plus, it's hard to take a bad shot of Newport. It is truly beautiful.

***

And my big decision - which I will *absolutely* write a separate post about:

I picked the date on which I am going to go full-time.

It's july 26th, 2013.

Why that day in particular? 

It's the first day of next year's Folk Festival. I decided while I was there two weekends ago that the next time I attended this festival that I would do it as myself. 

And I will. 

Newport has been a magical place in my life from the beginning… and I can't imagine a better place in which to truly start my  life, at long last.

M, my therapist, thinks it is more than reasonable. It will be 20 months into HRT, and two-and-a-half years since I decided to transition. 

I have so much to do - electrolysis/laser, working on my voice, getting comfortable going out as myself… but I know I can do it. And by giving myself a deadline, I WILL do it. As M told me, "When you make up your mind to do something, nothing will stop you, will it?"

No. Nothing. :c)

I'm scared (OK, terrified) and exhilarated in equal measure… which means I must be doing something right!

Time to call it a night - more to follow this week! 

***

To wrap up this post, here are two more of the amazing acts from this year's festival. First up, the always-superb Wilco:

And next, New Multitudes, a one-off group consisting of Anders Parker (Varnaline), Will Johnson (Centro-Matic and South San Gabriel), Jay Farrar (Son Volt), and Jim James (My Morning Jacket). They came together to record an album of new music they collaborated on to accompany unrecorded Woody Guthrie lyrics. The results, as you can hear below, are enchanting:

This was even more breath-taking in person, if that is possible. Incidentally, I'm just out of camera range, next to the gentleman with the red hair at the bottom left of the screen. Such are the pitfalls of being short. :c)

Another Friend Is In the Know

This isn't the long-delayed post I have been threatening for the last few weeks; I got sidetracked in an email exchange with a friend. Amazing how three hours  can pass by when you become friends with a fellow music obsessive. :c) We may wind up blowing our transition budgets on all of the new albums we discussed (yes, we're both of sufficient vintage to listen to albums)…

But, as I do so often when I get going on music, I digress. lol So here's what is happening in my little corner of the world.

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(That Wuz) The Week That Wuz

Whew. Perhaps it's just the hormones, but things certainly have seemed... intense the past few months. This past week was no exception. Mostly good, but, as the song goes, "Wherever there is comfort there is pain/Only one step away." And vice versa (as I prefer to think about it).

So… shall we dive right in, then?

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If I Should Fall Behind...

It's been another crazy week, so crazy that I have barely had time to process coming out to my friend M on Monday. But I would like to write a bit more about it, because I was so touched by his reaction.

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Another One Bites The Dust

So... I finally got to tell my friend M about myself tonight. I've been wanting to for quite some time, but for various reasons it simply didn't work out.

Tonight it did. And true to form, in terms of how it's gone so far and in terms of M's, er, warped sense of humor (no *wonder* we get along so well!), it was memorable.

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In My Room (Not...)

I'm a bit under the weather as I deal with my semi-annual bout with the flu, but I wanted to write a quick post about something that happened the other night.

My friend C called me so we could catch up; we've been playing phone tag for months, literally. She's important to me, so I wanted her to be one of the first people to know about me. I wanted to tell her in person (she lives about four hours away), but I decided I wanted to tell her, even if the phone isn't ideal.

I think I've mentioned that I've been staying with my parents while I get settled here - and that they don't know about me yet. Which isn't to say I haven't tried. And tried. And tried. And tried. (For the record, my sister is still the only family member who knows.) I really appreciate them letting me stay here - things have been frantic as I start a new job, commute 90+ minutes each way on weekends to pack, and, oh, yes, transition - but, still, it has its challenges.

For instance, they seem to forget at times that I'm an adult now, and that I need some privacy. Not because they want to eavesdrop; they just forget I'm not 13 anymore.

My parents had gone out to dinner, which meant the timing was good to tell C my news. Of course, things couldn't be that simple.

The instant C phones, my parents, naturally, arrived home early from dinner. And naturally, instead of staying downstairs to catch up on the Law & Order repeats they missed instead of staying downstairs as they always do, they decide to go to bed immediately - in the room right next to mine. Naturally.

I tried whispering, but my voice is shot because I have a cold. So as I battle nerves and surging emotions while I attempt to whisper to C that I was, you know, changing gender, she kept apologizing because she couldn't hear a word I was saying.

So I got up and checked out the adjoining bedroom - but then I hear my father in the room on the other side of the wall watching, yes, Law & Order. (Because what else would a retired cop want to see but more blood and guts, right?) Which means I had only one place left where I could be assured they wouldn't be able to hear.

So, I go to this location, and proceed to give C what is rapidly becoming my standard "I'm transitioning" speech - and wow, there's a phrase I never dreamed I'd be writing!  :c)

C, in turn, has what is rapidly becoming the standard response:

a) <stunned silence>

b) "Wow."

c) "I'm so, so sorry - I can't imagine how difficult this has been for you."

d) "You're totally coming down here and we're going for pedicures!"

All right, she's the only one who's said d) so far. But I can always hope it *does* become commonplace - my dogs are *ugly*, and need all the help they can get! :c)

Anyway, after a few minutes of C attempting to wrap her brain around this news and me trying not to hyperventilate and/or pass out from another coughing jag, C says, "I have to ask you something.

"Your voice sounds really weird. Where *are* you, anyway?"

The tension - OK, terror - I'd felt all day faded as the appropriateness of my location sank in.

"Umm… in the closet."

We laughed for a full minute. :c)

You really can't make these things up!

***

I'll write more about this conversation - C and I have a long history together, and she's important to me. I also want to write about my moving adventure/first HRT-induced meltdown, and about my doctor, well, chewing me out about overdoing things. And, since you can never have too much uncertainty in your life as you transition, the latest (potential) game-changer at my new job.

But one thing at a time. Or so my doctor tells me. :c)

For now... off to bed!

***

I had a conversation with a friend the other night - late the other night, as she's a fellow insomniac. She mentioned that the Primitives have a new album coming out soon. Since then, I've had this song stuck in my head.

In turn, I mentioned to her that Mazzy Star also have a new album due out. As a result, I also have *this* song in my head now.

In both cases, I'm perfectly OK with that.

The Healing Game

It may not surprise anyone who read my most recent posts, but I was feeling a bit drained on Tuesday. OK, more than a bit. I was pretty much wiped out, to be honest. 

I wrote for nearly nine straight hours to finish the final portion of the first post (I wrote them out of the order in which they take place chronologically; I suspected if I wrote that one first I would be hard-pressed to start the second post, let alone complete it).

I posted them around 4:00 AM, and then lay awake, waiting for my brain to quiet down. I drifted off into a fitful sleep around 6:30, but my alarm woke me at 9:00. I had an appointment with M, my therapist.

Again, I'll be honest: I wanted to skip it. That's not how I usually feel; while I've had several excellent therapists in the past, M is the best. But I felt very raw and worn down, not to mention exhausted (I'd been up writing until 6:00 two nights before as well). But I knew I should go, so I got up, downed some coffee, and made the 45 minute drive.

I'm glad I did.

The first post dominated the session. M asked if I felt the same sense of catharsis that I felt in December after completing the two long posts I'd written back then. 

I told her I didn't, and wasn't sure I ever would. She asked what made these events different. And after a moment I realized what it was.

While those events were painful, in looking back I could say that I had done everything in my power to achieve what I wanted so desperately: a relationship. That didn't happen, but I knew it wasn't because I failed to take action.

This time, though, that wasn't the case. I *did* fail to take action, I told her; even though I knew why that was the case, the thought of what might have been had I been able to overcome my fears (although perhaps terror wouldn't be too strong a word in this case) would stay with me for the rest of my life.

M took a moment, then began to speak in her understated way.

"It's understandable that you when you look back now, you dissect what you think you should have done.

"But L… you were 21 years old. 21. Years. Old. Studies show that our brains don't fully develop cognitively until we're 25. Essentially you were still a teenager. 

"On top of that, you were carrying this secret that scared you to death, that you felt you could never risk sharing with anyone, and that you suspected meant no one would ever love you. 

"And while you've acknowledged and accepted that your parents did the best they could, it's fair to say that you grew up in an environment in which, at a minimum, you were completely on your own in terms of emotional support.

"You had no one to talk to, no one who could help you figure out how to cope with these feelings, or to show you how to form a healthy, loving adult relationship. You had to try to figure it out all on your own. And again… you were only 21.

"You did the very best you could at that time in your life," she said. "That's all you could ask of yourself. That's all any of us could ask."

"What bothers me the most is thinking that if H thinks of me at all, she just thinks that she was wrong about me," I said. "That I *was* another of those guys. The ones who didn't see anything beyond her looks."

"From how you've described her, I doubt very much that's the case," M said. "She certainly seemed to understand how sensitive you were, and how much you cared for her. 

"That's why she thanked you for always looking her in the eye when you spoke to her, rather than looking at her chest, and why she so appreciated how upset you were when she told you too many men *did* do just that. 

"And she not only agreed to go out with you after you didn't go to her Halloween party; she wanted you to come to her dinner party to meet her friends. So they could all meet this boy she'd told them so much about. So I don't believe for a second that she saw you as someone who would ever hurt her intentionally," M said. "Because you don't have a mean bone in your body.

"I strongly suspect she saw you for who you were: a shy, sensitive young man who was frightened by how intensely he felt all of these conflicting emotions, many of which he couldn't share with her, or anyone, and who simply didn't know how to process them, through no fault of his own. 

"And when she thinks of you, that's what she remembers. The kind, caring boy who looked out for her and who made her laugh. And who loved her."

She paused.

"You've talked in great depth with me about this, you've written about this, and now you've put it out into the universe, for all to see," she said. "Each of those things took a tremendous amount of courage. 

"Now, you need to acknowledge that, and to be proud of how far you've come. And you need to begin to forgive yourself. It will take time. But it will happen. I know it will."

And that was the end of the session.

The ride home was considerably easier than the ride to the session an hour earlier. I thought about her words the entire way home. I hoped that I was even half the person she described, and vowed to do my best to live up to her image of me. 

When I reached home I was exhausted… but I no longer felt drained. Instead, I felt blessed to have an ally like M on my side to help me as I move forward on my journey to becoming myself. 

May you all be similarly blessed.

***

Here's an unbelievably good version of "The Healing Game," one of my very favorite Van Morrison songs, and for my money one of his greatest. This version was recorded live in the studio with his amazing band. (Yes, this is actually live!) It's the title track of his superb 1997 album of the same name.

Flowers in the Desert

Aslightly belated Happy New Year! Things have been a bit hectic in Kelly's corner of the universe the past few weeks. Not a bad hectic, for the most part, but still hectic.

In the not-so-good department, my car was hit a few days before Christmas - on my way to my HRT doctor's office, as a matter of fact. This is the fifth time this car has been hit (I've been the hittee, not the hitter, in each instance). My brother, who's a cop, is baffled; as he noted, I'm a careful driver, and he can't figure out how I keep having such bad luck.

The other driver was very apologetic and admitted it was his fault, which helped ease the aggravation a bit. I've had to replace every door and quarter panel at least once since I bought this car back in 1998. Other than seeming to have a target painted on it, this car hasn't given me a second of trouble since I bought it. I just got it back, good as new (or close to it, I suppose). They even detailed it for me for nothing; must've felt guilty making so much money off of all of these repairs! ;c) Here's hoping I've finally expunged any remaining bad driver karma from this car for the rest of its life.

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The Plan Keeps Coming Back Again… (Pt. 4)

Sunday, 2:00 PM

The scene: I'm lying prone on the couch in the living room at my parents house, eyes squeezed shut. The front door opens; my father and mother enter.

Dad: L? L? Are you awake? L?

Me (sighing inwardly): Uhh… yeah?

Dad: How are the allergies? Feeling better?

Me: I'll be fine tomorrow. This just lasts a day. I think I ate something with mushrooms last night at F's. So,how did E (my niece) do at her feis?

(Note: For you unfortunate souls not lucky enough to be Irish, a feis - pronounced "fesh" - is an Irish step dancing competition.)

Mom: Two first place ribbons and a second place in the team competition.

Me: Did you take any pictures?

Him: I would have... if your mother hadn't lost the batteries.

Her: I know I just saw them around here somewhere… Let me go look again…

(She heads off into the kitchen.)

Me: Seriously… again? I told you to get a safety deposit box for this stuff, didn't I?

Dad: Hey, she threw away her wedding gown. What chance do rechargeable batteries have?

Me: Well, don't say I didn't try to help.

Him: OK.

(pause)

You know, I hardly feel like we talked all weekend.

Me: Yeah, I know. Me too.

Him: I know you have a lot going on, but next time you come up, you should try to make some time for your mother. She'd appreciate that.

Me (reeling from an irony deficiency: I'll, uh.. see what I can do. 

Him: Be sure to say so long before you go. I'm headed to the back room. They're in the middle of a three-part Streets of San Francisco story.

Me: Will do Dad.

***

The scene: Two hours later. My sister C looks down sympathetically.

C: And you hardly ever have allergy attacks anymore, right?

Me (weakly): Yeah. Just bad timing.

C: I'll say. So you *still* haven't told them?

Me: Like when? During the commercial breaks on TV Land?

C (nodding): That's true. All I can say is the clothes on those 70s cop shows are enough to make *me* ill. Seriously - plaid jackets and  polka dot ties? Even *you* know enough not  to do that.

Me: Thank you for the vote of confidence.

C: Don't be. All it means is you aren't color-blind or a retired cop like Dad. (shudders) Have you ever seen him mow the lawn in Bermuda shorts and dark knee socks?

Me: Hey, I'm already feeling queasy. Do you mind?

C: Sorry. Seriously, you'd better tell them soon. At this rate your boobs will be my size by the time they know. (looking down at her self-described "twelve-year-old's chest") Not that they'd notice, I suppose.

Me: Hey, you said it, not me.

C: Well, I'm off to work. (leans down and kisses me) Take care of yourself, sis.

Me: Thanks. You too.

***

Postscript: I now know the perfect Christmas gift for my parents: a universal remote. Preferably with a garage door option.

*** 

Here's where I swiped the title for the last few posts: Idaho's finest, the mighty Built To Spill. Incidentally, Doug Martsch, the lead singer, is no slouch in the guitar hero sweepstakes, as you can see:

And one more, if you're in the mood for an epic. These guys are seriously good musicians:

The Plan Keeps Coming Back Again… (Pt. 3)

Saturday, 3:00 PM

The scene: I'm walking down a busy thoroughfare in - you guessed it - a torrential downpour. My cell phone rings. It's my father.

Me: Hey Dad. Are you and Mom home from the church social?

Him: L? Is that you?

Me (counting to three): Has anyone else ever answered this number, Dad?

Him: Where are you?

Me: Out walking.

Him: You know it's raining?

Me (wiping the condensation from my glasses again): I've noticed.

Him: It wasn't supposed to start this early, they're saying.

Me: I gathered that.

Him: Is that why you're still walking?

Me: That plus the fact that it started when I was an hour and a half from home.

Him: Well, will you be home by, let's see… 3:00?

Me: Dad, it's 3:00 right now.

Him: Is it? OK, I have to keep this short - Kojak is coming on.

Me: Keep what short?

Him: Your brother F invited us over for dinner.

Me: Oh, OK. I have something to talk to you all about, actually, so that's good.

Him: Sure.

Me: What time do we have to be there?

Him: 3:00.

Me: Dad, again, it's 3:00 right now. Why does he want us there so early?

Him: Well, he wants to order early from Bob's.

Me: But why not just get everyone's orders now, call them in, and tell them when you want to pick it up?

Him: No, they want to eat early.

Me: Why?

Him: Aren't you listening? There's a Kojak marathon on!

Me: Right. Sorry. Well, I can't be there at 3:00.

Him: Why not?

Me: Because it's 3:00 right now.

Him: It is?

Me (sighing): Yeah, Dad. I'll just meet you all over at F's house, OK?

Him: OK. By the way, F's father-in-law will be there too.

Me: @#$%!

Him: Hey, he's not my favorite person either, but I don't let him get to me like that! Anyway, do you have keys for his house? We don't to miss any of the show.

Me (shaking head): I do. No worries.

Him: Good. (yelling to my mother) M, how do you manually program the VCR again? This remote still isn't working!

Me: See you in a bit, Dad.

***

Postscript: if you're ordering from Bob's I highly recommend the turkey tips.

*** 

Here's one from The Dave Rawlings Machine. He is hands-down the best guitar player I have ever seen - and bear in mind that I saw Stevie Ray Vaughan live. Judge for yourself:

The Plan Keeps Coming Back Again… (Pt. 2)

Friday, 8:30 AM

The scene: I'm in the family room with my mother. The show tonight isn't until 8:00 PM. That gives me a whole day to tell my parents. They're retired; they have nothing *but* free time, right?

***

Me: So, any plans for today, Mom?

Her: As a matter of fact, yes. My sisters are taking your Aunt M and I out to lunch for our birthday. (My mother and my Aunt M are identical twins.)

Me: Oh... okay. What time are you all meeting?

Her (checking watch): Let's see… 10:00 AM.

Me: Say, can we talk before - wait... 10:00 AM? For *lunch*?

Her: Well, we want to get there early.

Me: Why?

Her: Well, your father wants to watch the Kojak marathon on TV Land this afternoon.

Me: You realize I gave him the entire series on DVD last year for Christmas, right?

Her: Oh, the VCR is broken.

Me: You mean the DVD player.

Her: No, we returned that.

Me: But you asked for one last year.

Her: I know. But now we want a Blu-Ray player.

Me: Let me guess: Aunt M just bought one.

Her: Well… yes.

Me: Mom, what's a Blu-Ray disc?

Her (after a long pause): Well, it's better.

Me: Better than what?

Her: Could you look at the TV? This remote doesn't work anymore.

Me (approximately two seconds later): Mom, you realize this is the remote for the garage door, right?

Her: Are you sure?

Me (pointing the remote): Is the garage door opening now?

Her (peering out the window): Why, yes. Yes, it is. (pause) Do you think that's why the remote in the car doesn't work?

Me: I don't know. Can you use it to change the TV channel while you're pulling out of the driveway?

Her: I'll have to check. (looking at her watch) Well, look at the time! (standing up)

Me: Where are you going?

Her: To lunch, of course.

Me: But it's barely 9:00 AM.

Her: I know.

Me: The restaurant is only three blocks away.

Her: I want to beat the traffic.

Me: *What* traffic?

Her: Well, your aunt J. She always has to be first.

Me: And this matters why?

Her: She thinks she's entitled to it just because she's older.

Me: Older than who? Mom, you're all in your sixties and seventies. 

Her: You kids wouldn't understand. (putting on her coat) Oh, could you look at this while your home too? (pointing) Your father says he can't get it to connect to the Internet.

Me: Mom, that's a word processor.

Her: Well, I'm sure you can fix that right up. Bye, hon!

Me: Bye, Mom.

***

Postscript: The Civil Wars show was terrific.

***

A sample of that evening's entertainment:

The Plan Keeps Coming Back Again… (Part 1)

Ever seen the movie Hot Shots? It's sort of an Airplane!-style takeoff on war movies. There's a character in it called Dead Meat, who is the All-American guy who always buys it in those war flicks the movie parodies so well.

As he's climbing into his fighter jet before a routine test mission, he's telling his wife about all of the astounding discoveries he's made: a cure for the common cold, who really shot JFK, and on and on. Each time his wife asks him to explain, and each time he says "plenty of time for that! I'll tell all as soon as I get back from this totally routine test flight, honey!"  And of course, disaster ensues - hilariously.

Well, that sort of sums up my last weekend. :c)

In my case, the goal was simple. I was going to spend a few days staying with my parents in my hometown. The ostensible purpose was to see Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings on Thursday night and The Civil Wars on Friday night. But my main goal was to tell my family that I was trans. I'd planned to do so a few weekends ago, but my father's stomach problems chose that weekend to make their presence felt, so I put it off until last weekend. I'd be there for four days; plenty of time for that! What could possibly go wrong?

Thursday, 12:00 PM

The scene: I'm sitting in the parking lot behind the wheel of my car, idly eying the partly cloudy skies above. Just to be safe, I quickly check the forecast: intermittent showers. I then check the traffic report: clear sailing the entire way. My trip ETA: 1:15 PM. Plenty of time to sit down for a heart to heart with my folks before heading out for a magical evening of music with Gill and Dave. Should be smoooottthhh sailing all the way...

Thursday, 5:15 PM

The scene: I'm standing in the hallway at my parents house, wringing out my drenched Gore-Tex jacket. My mother stands nearby, holding my iPhone.

***

Mom: So you really spent three and a half hours on the Expressway?

Me (emptying approximately three inches of rain from my left sneaker): I did. But it will be worth it tonight when I get to the show.

Mom (looking down): Uh… was it Gillian Welch you were seeing tonight?

Me: "Was"? Why "was"?

Mom: It says here that she has laryngitis and tonight's show is canceled.

Me: #$%!*

Mom: That's not nice.

(The door opens. My father enters.)

Dad:  Shouldn't you be on your way to your show?

Me: #$%!*

Dad: What?

Mom: The show was canceled.

Dad: Hmm. (momentary pause) Did you close your car windows before you came in? It's raining out, you know.

Me: #$%!*

Dad: Hey, don't blame me. I didn't make it rain.

Mom: Well, this will be nice! Your sister is working, so it's just the three of us! (The phone rings.) Let me get that and see what I have for dinner. (heads off to kitchen)

Dad: Too bad about the show. Oh well. We can always watch TV.

Me Or we could just talk.

Dad: I think there starting a Kojak marathon tonight.

Me: Right. Or we could just talk.

Dad: I think they're showing the first season.

(The doorbell rings.)

Dad (opening the door): Now who the hell is that? It's pouring out, for Christ's sake.

(It's K, our next door neighbor and her six-month old daughter C, huddled under an umbrella. My mother brushes past my father and I.)

Mom (in baby voice): Well, HELLO, Missy C! And how are you?

Dad (confused): Hi, K. (brightening) And hello, princess! 

K (apologetic): I'm so sorry. Our babysitter just canceled, and I didn't know who else to call…

Mom: Nonsense! We're always happy to spend time with our favorite little neighbor!

K: We aren't interrupting anything, are we?

Mom: Not at all! I think there's a Mannix marathon on tonight.

Dad: That's next week. This is Kojak week.

Mom: He's the bald one, right?

Dad: Right. (to C) Just like this little angel!

C: (massive burp)

Mom: See if she wants to go to L.

(I hold out my arms. C reaches for me.)

K and my Mom (simultaneously): Aww!

C: (throws up on my shirt)

Dad: Well, looks like someone had peas for lunch!

C: (gurgles happily)

K: Well, I should be on my way. Thank you *so* much! Bye honey! Be good! (kisses C on the head)

Dad: Let me see if I have a shirt you can wear, L. (heads upstairs)

Mom: I'll go get a facecloth to clean off Missy-Miss here! (heads off to kitchen)

(C and I stand alone by the door.)

Me: Hey, C. Want to know a secret?

C: (smiles and laughs)

Postscript: C is an absolute sweetheart. And I say that even though she vomited on both my Gillian Welch *and* Dave Rawlings Machine tour shirts. 

***

Here's a taste of what I missed that night: