• I am just home from...

  ...work and I only have the time to write one or two things.

  My son has been with me since Sunday (Easter Break) which has been really, REALLY great, but between that and work I have not had a chance to update about my trip to see Dr. Meltzer in Scottsdale. I will do that really soon. I take my son back home this Sunday.

  "That's always a little rough on you, isn't it, Trish?"
  What's a little rough?
  "Taking your son home, that's a little rough."
  Yes, that's always a little rough.

  I received another Customer Service Award at work last night. Yay for me. And yay for my co-workers who have made it possible for me to help customers (meaning helping me to learn what I need to learn). They rock.

  My husband John (that would be Johnny Depp to anybody else), has a pet name for me. He calls me Caretaker.

   

  ...and I say, it's all right.
  George Harrison

Wednesday, April 19th, 2006

• I guess I got...

  ...the joneses for picture entries lately. I don't like to do that too much, but oh well.

  And yes, it was rough taking my son home on Sunday, but on the way we had some fun snapping digital camera photographs and I even took a few photos of... da da DAAAAAAA (da da DAAAAAAA is "the butler did it" music): The place where I cut my "women's restroom teeth".

  Some three years ago now, I remember grappling with the "restroom issue" (which one to use, which one to use, woes me, men's or women's, which one to use), until one night when I said to myself, "Trish, enough is enough."

  On that fateful night as I was driving home from electrolysis, I made the decision: NO MORE men's restroom for Trish. This Der Wienerschnitzel fast food hot dog restaurant is right about smack dab between where my son lives, where I have electrolysis performed and where I live now, and it is where I first put my decision into action. I shan't ever, ever use the men's restroom again, and here is where I shall start stopping, if ya know what I mean..

  Oh, I know it is sordid, and if most people knew I was posting pictures of the first women's toilet I was to use on a regular basis, they would think me out of my ever lovin' tree. But hey, this is Trish history and I could have chosen worse places to put my resolution into effect as this is not a bad restroom, as fast food restrooms go. It is clean most all the time. Sometimes in the early morning it lacks seat covers and I have to fumble to find and turn the light switch on, but...

  ...look at that damn fine clean porcelain. Only one little piece of toilet paper on the floor. The place is sans hooks (a huge pet peeve of mine), but the door handle is secure enough to hang my belongings. And this by the way is the famous restroom where the toilet cleanser turned the toilet paper red after being dropped in the water, freaking the SHIT out of me. I wrote about that on Thursday, February 24th, 2005.

  I was hoping that the women waiting to use this restroom would not see the flashes from my digital camera coming from the crack under the door. "I gotta PEE and this chick is in there taking pictures! FREAK!" Heh heh. All's well that ends well.

  "Wow, Trish. What a deep entry. Photographs of where you pee."
  Oh c'mon now. Cut me some slack, Jack.

  Scottsdale Arizona entry soon.

   

  Der Wienerschnitzel has been dedicated to the art of hot-doggery for over 40 years now,
  and I have not taken any hot-doggery into their restroom for over 2 years now.
  Trish

Sunday, April 23rd, 2006

• This is...

  ...quite (*I* think) uncharacteristic of my Transition Diary, but I have yet another entry with photographs. Sometimes I just like to show the things I am writing about. It's more fun then just describing them. But first...

  ...a little about my recent trip to see my SRS (or whatever YOU...

  "You who?"
  We're not doing this again.

  ...want to call it) surgeon, Dr. Toby Meltzer. It had been two years since I had seen him and I had a few concerns that I wished to address/ask him about. One being the soreness that it seems I am just about constantly experiencing around my surgery site and even up around my abdomen. It is quite annoying. My skin is almost all the time sore to the touch, almost like a sunburn.

  Another concern is that dilating has never been easy for me as in (and I paraphrase) "when one size dilator becomes easy to use, you may then advance to the next larger size". Yeah, uh huh, and I am suppose to fit an erect penis in me??? Hahahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! You are kidding, right?? I keep dropping hints, even with Dr. Meltzer:

  "I don't know if an erect penis is any different then a dilating stent or not, but if it isn't..."

  I keep waiting for sombody, anybody to say, "Oh yeah, Trish, an erect penis is a lot easier to work with. A guy goes in sa-MOOOOOOOOTH babee. Dick is SO nice." But nobody ever says anything. I know that sometimes sexual intercourse requires a little work or dedication, but... nobody ever answers my question. So maybe a stiffie really IS a bitch.

  "Such... such... terminology, Trish."
  Yeah, fun, ain't it?

  Anyway...

  I also had moved down a size with the dilating stent because I had had (two words in a row like that always freak my uneducated self out) just a very small amount of bleeding, almost like a small fissure that would open at times, not deep at all, but ouch. One other concern that I had was the area around my urethra. At times it was more, let's just say larger, or engorged. One who is not paranoid (unlike myself), or slightly more educated in the art of SRS (again, unlike myself) would have chalked it up to what I was to find out it actually is. More on that in a moment then.

  I also have one other issue that has yet to be resolved that might or might not be related to the surgery I had. It's very scary. It could be a biggie, but then again, it could be nothing. I am not going to write of it for now as I just don't want to. My Transition Diary theme of "honesty" and just coming out with it is going by the wayside for this issue, for now. I don't like that, but I cannot bring myself to write of it yet. Dr. Meltzer and Jennifer are monitoring. Bless them.

  We interrupt this entry to bring you the following oft repeated paragraph:
  I am at times lately feeling a little lonely again, wishing that I could spend time with another. This comes and goes as it does with anybody else I suppose. I don't see this being remedied anytime soon; probably never. So I will just continue to wax over it on occasion.

  Oh man, it gets bad sometimes.

  Anyway...

  So my worries finally reached a head and my mom and I decided to take a trip to Scottsdale Arizona to see Dr. Meltzer. He had moved to a new place of business since I had been there last and it is just as nice if not nicer then his previous location/office. Very easy to find. His office is pretty vogue and there is fresh coffee and a fridge with bottled water and soft drinks. My mom said there were magazines of all kinds for miles. They make ya feel right ta home.

  I was met by a new (to me) nurse, Lindsay. We met privately and discussed my issues. As with all of the staff that I have known from Dr. Meltzer's office, she was totally rockish (as in, she rocks). After we spoke she led me to an examining room to wait for Dr. Meltzer.

  I don't know how else to put it other then it is always a treat to see Dr. Meltzer. The guy's bedside manner, or is it just his presence, I dunno, it just puts a person at total ease. Maybe it is something he works at, maybe it just comes natural, whatever it is, I love this guy.

  He spoke with me like he remembered me. I am sure he just about doesn't. With Lindsay present in the examining room, Dr. Meltzer and I went over the issues that had brought me to see him. He immediately helped me to understand a bit more about my anatomy and make me feel better about myself. Then it came time for the physical examination and a first for me, the "dreaded" speculum.

  Okay, tune out for a moment if you wish. I am going to make one or two (literally) graphic statements here:

  There I am, feet in stirrups (even *I* don't want to picture this), Dr. Meltzer peering between the Trish thighs, when into my vagina goes a finger, fast, and I do mean fast. The guy is a pro.

  "Well duh, Trish."
  Heh heh. Yeah, I know.

  After a bit of wiggling, out goes the finger(s) then comes...... The Speculum. Now, I was very apprehensive about this tool. I know just about everybody is at one time or another and I am no different. Or actually, I am different as I am even MORE apprehensive then a normal person is, or at least I think I am. No, I know it, I am.

  But anyway...

  In it goes, just as fast as the finger(s) it seems. The guy is a pro.

  "Well duh, Trish!"
  I know I know!

  "Hey..." I thinks to myself, "...it's not that uncomfortable, not all that bad." The only time it became so was when I started choking on it.

  "*gasp*"
  I keed, I KEED.
  "Cliche, Trish. How gauche."

  Actually it was slightly uncomfortable when the speculum was in my vagina as far as it would go, when it was pressing against, I dunno, the "deepest part of me". Dr. Meltzer examined me for few minutes, then pulled the speculum out and started washing up and that was that. My first speculum experience was not a bad one. I hope they are all like that.

  "That was not all that graphic, Trish."
  Hey, I am sure just the suggestion of Trish in stirrups is enough to gross some people out. So, it was graphic.

  I guess you can tune back in if you had tuned out.

  So here is the outcome. I am normal. The area around my urethra that I was worried about is cool.

  "DAMN TRISH. I thought TUNE OUT was OVER."
  Sue me.

  The area around my urethra is just a part of my past anatomy that naturally changes size at times or becomes engorged with blood during times of arousal. Dr. Meltzer can simply modify it if it is a distraction or interferes with anything. Mine does not interfere and in his opinion it is not anything that looks out of the ordinary. I asked if a sexual partner would find it, different. He said no. He would do a revision surgery only if it bothered me. It's okay now that I know exactly what it is. No worries.

  The dilation problems that I have been having still slightly exist. However, during the examination, the way he dealt with my body, I realized that I am not made of glass and have been able to change the way I do things a bit. He has once again prescribed Premarin® cream and this time I will stick to using it intravaginally several times a week for at least a month. Two years ago I was told I could use it intravaginally or externally, my choice. I was fine without pushing a plastic applicator deep inside me and then plunging a shovel full of Premarin® cream in. Massaging a bit onto my labia with my fingers is a lot easier. These days though intravaginally is not as difficult and it should help me to get back in the larger dilating stent game. I just have to keep at it. Dr. Meltzer also wrote a prescription for another cream that I am using externally a couple of times a week.

  For the soreness (labia, mons and abdomen) that I have been experiencing (it really sucks), he prescribed some pills. They are for nerve endings. I think they are working a bit. But I can't take those forever. I have to see where we are going with this.

  And this was nice to know too: Although I have lost some depth since my surgery, something that always bothered me a bit, Dr. Meltzer said that my vagina is still deeper then a genetic woman's. I am not a "deep freak", I just hope to have sexual intercourse someday and I want to know I can please somebody. It would be a real drag if somebody could only... well, fit half of their key into my lock. No doors were ever opened that way.

  Before Dr. Meltzer left the room, he assured me some more (because I NEED it) that I was fine, and looked fine. Then he gave me a hug (that was so cool, I didn't expect that) and he was off. That guy never leaves me feeling bad. I know everybody loves their surgeon, I guess I am on that list also. But ask others about Dr. Meltzer. I am sure that I'm not alone.

  "I have nobody to ask, Trish."
  Okay, then nevermind.

  My appointment with Dr. Meltzer was on Monday April 3rd at 3 PM. I took Sunday, Monday and Tuesday off of work. My mom said, "This time our trip to Arizona is going to be a mini-vacation and we are not going to head back home right after your doctor appointment. We are going to do a bit of Arizona sight-seeing." I know she took this attitude partly to help me stop worrying about my crotch, and also because we have been to Scottsdale two times and had always just come right home after the doctor stuff, with the exception of the few hours we spent in Sedona right before coming home after my surgery.

  So sight-see a bit is what we did.

  We arrived in Scottsdale Sunday night and settled into the motel. We usually stay at Motel 6®. Mom got to sleep kind of early and I brought along my portable DVD player and watched a couple of movies. It was cool to be able to do that. The next day of course was my doctor's appointment.

  After getting out of Dr. Meltzer's office on Monday afternoon, with my heart and crotch feeling so much better (if even just psychologically) and the high of having my couple of "firsts" AND seeing Dr. Meltzer, with me just feeling great all the way around, mom and I headed over to Old Town Scottsdale. We had passed by Old Town so many times and said, "We have to check this place out" but never had the time. This trip was different.

  Old Town Scottsdale is pure southwestern, part tourist, another part tourist, part Indian trading post, part cowboy stores, part great restaurants and bars, and part tourist. I was in my element as it was FILLED with treasures of the cowboy variety. A western town bursting with clothes, art, leather goods, souvenirs and food. Not many real cowboys (walking the streets, anyway) although I did see one guy getting into his jeep wearing a cowboy hat and some sort of single action pistol on his hip. It is legal to wear a gun in Arizona as long as it is not concealed.

  The weather was great. The temperature was about 84 degrees. COWBOY DESERT weather, pard. I was lovin it. Hot in the day, and 74 at night. Trish style.

  In Old Town, the very first store we stepped into is called Saba's. It's a western apparel store. I saw the hats and I RAN over there. I picked up the first hat I saw and said, "I want this hat." It was perfect. It felt just right. But hey, there were many others and I tried LOTS of em on. But I kept going back to the first hat. I was pretty sure it was the hat I wanted but I went over to an older cowboy guy there and asked his opinion. He said, "Well ma'am, I've been watching you try on the hats and that is the one for you. It really fits your style and, personality." And it was the one that I first picked up and the one you see here. It's a Stetson XX wool hat. Not the best, but very cool. I paid for it, I put it on, and we were off.

  Hmmm. I don't usually write this kind of stuff in my Transition Diary. I don't write about food and shit. Not that I am aware of anyway. Oh well... After Saba's we had lunch at a little place called Nello's Pizza. I had a personal size pizza with pepporoni, sausage, green pepper, olives and ga-REEEEZEEE melted cheese that was fantastic. I can't remember what my mom had, but she was very happy with hers also. We relaxed at bit, sipped tall cool (non-alcoholic... BOOOOO) drinks, and again we were off.

  My mom spotted a necklace in a shop's window that was really simple, cute, and not expensive, but passed on going in to look at it. Later, she decided she would like to look at it a little closer after all and maybe buy it. We looked up and down every dang street for what must have been an hour and just could not find it again. But we'll keep a' looking.

  Another store we explored is called Bishoff's: Shades of the West. This place is an emporium overflowing with southwestern stuff. From keychains to wrought iron, from purses to cookware, spices and hot sauces with teeny skulls chained to the bottlecaps, blankets and jewelry, this place has it all. And speaking of jewelry, the second I spotted these earrings, I said to myself: "Trish do these or do these NOT go with your right on cool new cowboy hat?" To myself I replied, "They sure as shootin YEE HAW do!" So I bought 'em, and I put 'em on. The design on them is Kokopelli. Kokopelli is a figure commonly found in petroglyphs and pottery throughout the southwest. He is regarded as the universal symbol of fertility for all life, be it crops, hopes, dreams, or love.

  Fertility for all life, be it crops, hopes, dreams, or love? Well, I can certainly use some of that. The earrings are more then perfect. All that and they made my new hat look right at home on my head. I was lookin so Southwestern. I was fittin right in, maybe lookin more like tourist then cowboy, but I was having me some fun, boy. Yeeeeeeeeee-IP!

  "Ayep. I was there. You were certainly looking Southwestern, Trish."
  Thanks pard.

  I saw something else in Bishoff's that I really wanted, but I didn't know if I wanted to spend the money on it or not. I would end up buying it on Tuesday before we started the drive home. I decided that I had to have it. We only had short time to spend in Old Town as it was later on in the day when we arrived, so we decided to go back to the motel, get some rest and come back Tuesday for a few hours before driving home. We headed back to the motel and hung out the rest of Monday night. It must have been about 9:30 PM (GASP!) when we rolled in. Mom read a bit and I watched another DVD or two. Tuesday bright and early we awoke, checked out of the motel and headed back to Old Town. And yes, I was doing my Southwestern look today also.

  We went into just about every store in Old Town on Tuesday. I made sure to go back to Bischoff's to buy that thing I wanted. It is a small alter. It is for celebrating Dia de los Muertos or, "Day of the Dead". I have always liked this Mexican celebration. In short, El Dia de los Muertos is a day to celebrate, remember and prepare special foods in honor of those who have departed. It is believed that the spirit of the dead visit their families on October 31st and leave on November 2nd. In order to celebrate, the families make altars and place offerings of food baked in shapes of skulls and figures on them. Candles, incense, and most importantly a photo of the departed soul is also placed on the altar. They look at death with the same fear as any other culture, but there is a difference. They reflect their fear by mocking and living alongside death.

  Dia de los Muertos has always interested me. For some reason I have always been attracted to Mexican culture in general. I had to have the little alter that is pictured above. An official Dia de los Muertos keepsake. It hangs in my room and... "Hey, Trish. Look, it's the necklace!" Heh heh. Mom spotted the long lost "really simple, cute, and not expensive" necklace we had seen in the shop's window the day before and that we had still been searching for all day. We went in, looked at it, and whether mom really liked it or not, I made her buy it. "We looked too damn long and hard..." I said to her, "...for you to leave it in this store." And now it's hers. Actually, I think I paid for it. Yay for me and employment. Oh, and I also bought a souvenir saguaro cactus statue and a little rattlesnake to go along with it. They are sold in abundance in Old Town, but I found these on close-out in some little store and they were a great deal. The detail on these two things is pretty doggoned good.

  And now, for lack of a better segue, all good things must come to an end and we had to get home. On the way back we just happened to pass by Dr. Meltzer's new office building and I got out of the car to take a few pictures while mom studied a "how the Hell do we get back on the freeway" map of Scottsdale. As soon as mom finishes her roll of film I hope to get those pictures scanned and posted here, for fun. I didn't take my digital camera.

  Also on the way back, on the dark highway, since I was driving I made my mom hang out the window at 70 miles an hour in an attempt to get a picture of that sign that says, "So and So State Prison" with the big yellow one right underneath it that says, "Do not pick up hitchhikers." I just love that sign. I think she got the photo too. You should have seen what hanging out the window at 70 mph did to her hair, and she got back in just in time to avoid an eighteen wheeler coming right at us on the opposite side of the road (that was a LOUD HORN!) but the camera's flash went off at the right time and it seems she got a good picture. Even if it turns out blurry and only half the sign is there I will scan it and put it here in my Transition Diary. But I swear, if it IS blurry, I will kick my mom's ass. She can't do anything right. She still has sand in her hair. Heh heh.

  We made a quick stop at Casino Morongo outside of Palm Springs so that I could get a membership card. Mom already had one. While mom was playing a slot machine for a few minutes and shaking sand out of her hair, I asked a passing security guard where I could get a free Diet Coke®. He said they don't have 'em here. That sucks. In conversing with him it seems that we just missed by about fifteen minutes seeing the movie actor Nicolas Cage as they were filming a motion picture scene right there in the casino.

  "Cool, Trish. What's the name of the movie?"
  Not "Leaving Casino Morongo" I bet.
  "In your words, Trish: Hee hee hee, ho ho ho, ha ha ha.... NOT"

  We left the casino, drove the rest of the way through pounding rain, and got home late. I sure miss the 84 degree cowboy weather. I didn't get to bed until after 2 AM and had to be up less then 4 hours later to get to a seminar for work. THAT was fun.

  I guess that's about it. Our trip to Scottsdale Arizona to see Dr. Meltzer and a bit of shopping and relaxation. It was great, and after my doctor appointment, it truly was totally relaxing. It was so nice having some money of my own. I am loving my employment, such as it is. And speaking of employment, yesterday I received my 6th Customer Service Award and I won ten dollars to boot.

  Oh, and I know, no Scottsdale Arizona pictures of Trish, no fun. Well, that's because, simply put, I, in real life, look.......... like shit. Just the way it is dear hearts.

  The next time we go to Arizona, we agreed that we will be going to Tombstone to visit all the history there. I also want to go to Old Tucson Studios and visit where many a' westerns were filmed. I've always wanted to go to these places.

   

  You a real cowboy?
  Urban Cowboy

Thursday, May 4th, 2006

• Living this far away...

  ...from my son really, really sucks at times like this.

  Tomorrow after school he is having two teeth pulled and they are going to be giving him a general. I didn't find out about the anesthesia part until after work tonight. Being this far away when something like this is going on hurts. It sucks.

  "Oh, big deal" many will say. "He will be alright. It's not a big thing." Well yeah it is, to me it is a big thing.

  Being this far away from your kid can really suck.

   

  
  Trish

Tuesday, May 16th, 2006

• Auberjonois, Rene...

  ...Auberjonois.

  I love that name. Rene Auberjonois. I love to just say it. Rene Auberjonois. I love saying Rene Auberjonois more then I love saying Genevieve Bujold, or even Claudine Longet.

  The first time I ever saw Rene Auberjonois was when I was fifteen years old. I was in a high school history class and we were watching an educational show "piped in" to our classroom. It starred a young Rene Auberjonois as George Washington at Valley Forge. They were using real flintlock rifles and pistols and I thought it was very cool.

  *click* *ssssst* *BOOM!*

  Totally cool. Auberjonois, Rene Auberjonois. Makes me feel........ international.

  My son is good. Sans two teeth and good. I'm glad that's over with. It's not the first time he has been given general anesthesia, but it is the first time I could not be there with him when he was.

   

  So far away from me
  Dire Straits

Thursday, May 18th, 2006

• So there I was...

  ...with Nick. Nick was always good for a few moments of abandon, some laughs and he plays a good game of Eight Ball. He smokes too much, and every room he spends time in ends up looking like a bar. I believe that if Nick were able, he would surround himself in black and white. He doesn't know much about me, and that's the way I want it. Nick says he thinks of me, often, but it isn't Nick who is thinking of me, it's those romantic bits of his that do all of Nick's thinking.

  "So kid, ya married?"
  Wellum.. That depends on your definition of married, Nick...
  "Married.. You know... Husband, dog, kid... white fence.. da works.."
  You gotta be kiddin, Ni....
  "LOOK HERE! Do I LOOK LIKE I am kidding????"

  "I loves ya baby... I gots ta know..."

  "Baby?"

  No..... No Nick.... I ain't married...
  "It's yer shot....."
  Okay....okay....

   

  ...eight ball in the corner pocket.
  Trish

Thursday, May 25th, 2006

• Look, there are...

  ...two choices to check off on the form. You either choose "male", or you choose "female". You want a third box that says "transsexual"? You want to be known as "transsexual"? Why?

  For the male to female "transsexual", you start out male, you transition, you end up female (in theory). So you put an "x" in the "male" box until you are at a point in transition where it no longer makes sense to do so.

  In my oh so humble opinion I think that there should be no paperwork with transsexual, intersexed, cross-dresser, transvestite, male by day female by night, monkeyboy, non-op, I want to check the female box but I can't right now, etc etc etc boxes.

  Why do you want to make this so complicated for the world. You LIVE as male? Check the male box. You LIVE as female? Check the female box. You LIVE as monkeyboy? Check the male box. How damn hard can it be.

  No third box. No third restroom.

  If you are a pre-op who desires but for whatever reason cannot have surgery, my heart goes out to you, but if you LIVE as male, you check the male box. If you LIVE as female, check the female box. There is no "pre-op who cannot have surgery for whatever reason" box. I mean, where would it all end.

  Oh, hey, so you are a cross-dresser and you think that checking off the "male" box will pigeonhole you into whoever sees it thinking that you are a football, hunting and race car type of person. You want them to know that you have a softer feminine side that likes girl stuff also. Well, there is a simple answer to that: Check of the "male" box because you are male, and then just tell them, "By the way, I like to wear dresses and I like girl stuff."

  If you are a in-your-face proud cross-dresser or transvestite, wear a damn button or something and just put a check mark in the "male" box. There is not going to be a "sometimes I wanna do the girl thing, and oh I dunno, sometimes I want to be a macho man" box.

  If you are the type of person who wakes up one morning and wants to be seen by the world as male, and then on another morning you wake up and want to be seen as female, a "fluid gender" so to speak, then that is YOUR problem and the genitals you possess should be the determining factor for the check box.

   

  I think some people just crave some sort of weird ass attention.
  Trish

Saturday, June 3rd, 2006

• You know? There's not...

  ...a day that goes by that I don't just about get down on my knees and thank God or whoever is responsible for my being able to get along in this world as female.

  When my son was born, for the first few weeks I kept waiting for somebody to show up at the door and announce, "Okay, we're here to take him back now." I mean, it was just too special, too not of this earth special for it to really be real, for him to be ours... forever.

  The only other thing I have ever felt this way about, is my (thus far) good fortune in transition.

   

  Once upon a time, in your wildest dreams.
  The Moody Blues

Sunday, June 4th, 2006

• As I wanted to do, I am...

  ...posting a few of the photographs that we took when my mom and I went to Scottsdale Arizona in April. I had gone for a check up (of sorts) with Dr. Toby Meltzer.

  There is not much more to say that I didn't enter in my Transition Diary on April 23rd, so this is mostly just for the photos.

  "What gives, Trish? This has never been a photographic diary."
  I know. I'm not really sure what is going on. Maybe I am just running out of material. Maybe I am coming to the end. Not sure.

  Anyway, the photos are not that great as they were taken with a film camera and then scanned. The sky was actually very blue and the days were beautiful. And herreeeeee they is.

  ~ click to enlarge ~

  As you pull into the parking lot, the entrance to the office building is on the left. As with Dr. Meltzer's previous office, he shares space with others, or they share space with him, or they all share space. I dunno. It is an office building... with lots of offices.

  This is a view of the office building from directly in front. Right through them thar palm trees lies the entrance to Dr. Meltzer's office. His is on the left, upstairs, third floor, if I remember right.

  ~ click to enlarge ~

  ~ click to enlarge ~

  I think I had forgotten to mention how much better the parking situation is at his new office building. His last office building left a lot to be desired in the parking department. Although this photo does not really reflect it, parking space on a Monday afternoon was abundant.

  On March 14th 2004 I had written, "Put the pedal to the metal, Ma! Let's make tracks!" about a sign on the freeway that I thought was funny, and bizarre. We finally got a photo of it while driving by at some 70 miles per hour. The photo was taken at night and I think that makes it even more ominous. Can you imagine picking up some guy, at night, who has his thumb stuck out, and THEN passing by this sign?? Holy shit. And then what if you noticed he has a hook hand? Yikes.

  ~ click to enlarge ~

   

  Arizona really was a gas.
  Scorpions

Wednesday, June 6th, 2006

• Ten years...

  ...ago today, I had my last drink of alcohol.

   

  They say drinking will kill you.
  Travis Tritt

Thursday, June 22nd, 2006

• I just haven't...

  ...had any time... again, which is good.

   

  Someday soon...
  Suzy Bogguss

Sunday, June 25th, 2006

• I received...

  ...another jury duty summons yesterday, the second since I had my name legally changed. Some folks are just lucky like this I guess. I must be on the "A" list. I gotta brush up on my "I don't give a rat's ass. Just HANG 'EM, hang 'em HIGH!" speech.

  Your Honor, the defense would like to call Trish-Marie.
  "Ms. Marie, please take the witness stand."
  "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

  *places hand on Bible*

  I don't give a rat's ass. Just HANG 'EM, hang 'em HIGH!

  Well okay... So that's not really a jury duty scenario, but you get the idea. I'm just practicin.

  ...anyway.

  The other day I mentioned to my mom that I had recently met a guy who's handshake was not unlike holding a dead fish. As an aside I asked her if she knew where the tradition of shaking hands originated.

  Hey mom, do you know why we shake hands?
  Because we can't shake feet? was her reply.

  What a joker.

  Wow, this month marks six years since I started Hormone Replacement Therapy.

  "And here's to another six years, Trish."

  *clink*

  I'm hip. Thanks.

  Oh, and I just celebrated (I alone "celebrated") my One Year Anniversary (WOO HOO! CAPS!) at work.

   

  Still, as ever, thankful for my job.
  Trish

Saturday, July 22nd, 2006

• Wonder of...

  ...wonders. Almost a month later, a few things.

  We had a brush fire here about three weeks ago. It was too freaky. The flames were high and so was the stress. Four air tankers, four helicopters, two bulldozers, forty-five fire engines and eight hand crews worked the fire. No homes lost, but it was close, real close. We came out fine, unlike our phone lines which have been down more then up. It was arson. They caught the guy.

  

  I have been going photograph crazy in my Transition Diary.

  It is hot. Very hot. Summer hot. I like it. In a few months I will be freezing my ass off again.

  During the drive home from work tonight (I worked late) my (mom's) truck was egged. Blam! Blammitty blam blam BLAM! So there I was at twelve thirty in the morning (here at home) washing the truck with coyotes howling all around me, black widows wanting to crawl on my head and God knows how many scorpions under my flip flops. I am guessing I needed to wash them thar eggs off the truck A.S.A.P. I hear that eggs take the paint off. Where's the love.

  I had a date, with a good looking guy. Heh heh. You know I lie. Not a chance. I couldn't get a date with a rooster, on a rooster farm, even if I had a wooden nickel that said "Wooden Nickel" on one side, and "Good for One Mercy Date with a Rooster at Rockin' Rory's Roostery" on the other. That's okay. I'll just sit here... in the dark.

  It's a poultry kind of day.

  That's pretty much it. Nothing exciting to write about at all and life is just cruising, for the moment.

   

  Cluck.
  Trish

Thursday, August 10th, 2006

• A lot of people calling...

  ...themselves "transsexuals" on the Internet are fuckin weird.

  "You *do* include yourself in that, don't you Trish?"
  Only a little. I am not... WEIRD weird. Just the one weird covers me. Besides, I am no longer "transsexual".
  "That is *your* opinion, Trish. Others would say different."
  That is them and I is me and don't try to change the subject. A lot of people on the Internet who call themselves "transsexual" are WEIRD weird. So there.

  My mom and my son are on vacation together and out of town for a couple of weeks, so I have been alone here and it is kind of nice, but only for a while. It gets lonely after a time. It IS great not needing to wear clothes around the house though, especially in this California summer heat (which I love). I am enjoying this, but like I say, only as long as it's for a short time.

  I did go to jury duty. This was the first time ever that I was released early, the whole room was. By 10:30 a.m. the announcer lady (or whatever she is called) got on the microphone and asked the room, "Who here was hoping that we would release you from jury duty early today?!" I was not about to raise my hand or say anything for fear that she would *then* say, "Well, that's not going to happen and for your disloyalty to the State, those with their hands up will now go serve breakfast to the prisoners until called to a courtroom." But as it turned out they had no cases for the day so they let us all go for another year. I then headed over to work to complete my hours for the day and that was that. Refreshing.

  Oh yeah, and while I was at jury duty, putting my shoes back on (to enter the courthouse I had to take them off to put in the x-ray machine), two clean cut looking gentlemen (who I took for law enforcement) were talking about going shooting together the following morning. Man, did that ever bring back memories. I used to have conversations like that with my friends all the time. I miss that. We used to have great times going to the ranges or huge gun shows and just making it a "firearms day". I really miss those friends and think of them often.

  I had to take my shoes off for the x-ray machine two times. And my big toe was poking through my hose, right in front of the two clean cut looking gentlemen. Good ol' Trish.

  "Trish."
  Huh? What.
  "Hi."
  Oh... Hey.
  "I bet they were laaaaaaaughin."
  The two guys?
  "Yes."
  Naw, nobody looks at me. Especially two good lookin younger men.

  I don't usually do this, but the following was posted on the message board at my website:

  "Ugh, I've followed your journal for a while now. You used to be an interesting transexual (while you were transitioning), now you're like the world's most boring woman I can't believe you haven't gotten laid yet. I guess one thing you haven't realized is -- it's really easy for women to get laid! Come on."

  I guess that about says it all. And now you gotta believe what I have been saying. I am one butt-ugly (either in personality or the physical or both) and boring person. If what you say about "women getting laid" is true (I could get into trouble with this), you proved my point. Or maybe I could say that I have set my standards too high and that is the reason I have not had so much as a date... Naw, I haven't even had a nibble (so to speak) for years. So you see, all dis time I been a'speakin da trute bout me attreeboots. Thanks for your input.

   

  Women are clairvoyant.
  Only THEY know if getting laid is in your future.
  Unknown 80's Comedian

Friday, August 11th, 2006

• Remember yesterday when I...

  ...wrote "A lot of people calling themselves "transsexuals" on the Internet are fuckin weird"?

  "Well, gee Trish, let me utilize my super REcall powers. It HAS been a whopping 24 hours you know."
  Okay, I'll wait.
  "I *remember* already. Chhh."
  Okay, cool.

  I used to go into "transgender" chat rooms on the Internet and every once in a while I would bring up,

  The Swish®.

  "And what would the swish be, Trish?"
  It is not... the swish, it is The Swish® if you don't mind.
  "Okay, and what is The Swish®?"

  In the chat room, for fun I would inform folks that you (collectively speaking) are not "transsexual" if you do not "swish" when you walk. You could almost SEE people's ears perk up and their eyes grow wide. They would be all like, "Swish? Um what?" and I... would tell them ... this, and I quote myself:

  "Swish® is a measure, a benchmark... The "level" of "transsexuality" within a person can be judged by the amount of "swish" in their walk. The very first thing an experienced gender therapist will do is to have the subject walk back and forth in the office to evaluate their "swish" level. He or she will then know how best to effectively treat their gender issues, if any. Simple."

  "Swishers" would come out of the woodwork.

  The great part of this is you would be surprised (or maybe not) at how many people, and I do mean people who you were supposed to "take seriously", not just fly by night chatters would start insisting they had The Swish® trying to prove how much of a "transsexual" they were/are.

  "All of my friends tell me that I swish when I walk. I have a definite feminine swish."

  "My father tried to beat the swish out of me. It didn't work, hon."

  "I tried NOT to swish all through high school but the real me just kept coming out."

  "My swish attracts too many guys. It's a burden now."

  It was hilarious. Those in the know were probably rolling on the floor laughing like *I* was. The really uncomfortable part was when people I might have had some respect for would start talking about their "swish level". I would try to change the subject extremely fast. That really didn't happen much. (Or come to think of it, it could have been a reverse mind fuck. Heh heh.)

  I tell ya, there is not much better entreetainment on a Satraday night then watching somebody try to prove how much of a "tranny" they are.

  "You need to get out more, Trish."
  That's a given.

   

  Oh, ah swish when ah walk, ah swish swish swish...
  Everybody sing! Oh, ah swish when ah walk, ah swish swish swish...
  Trish

Thursday, August 24th, 2006

• It seems that...

  ...there are one or more folks at work who suspect that I am not a genetic woman. The "man" word was used. I received this information through a reliable grapevine. I should know within a month or two if I am being phased out. I hope not. As I have said before; this job means a lot to me.

  I really hope that I don't lose any of my friends there, or get beat up.

  So much for stealth.

   

  
  Trish

Sunday, September 3rd, 2006

• I had a couple...

  ...of items that needed to be filed away in a cabinet that I had not seen for a while. In this cabinet are "transgender" related "memory folders" and older photos of myself. Although I could never dispose of most of this stuff, it makes me very uncomfortable to go through it. I don't know what it is about this old "transgender" stuff. I am just extremely uncomfortable with it. I mean, there are some great memories, but it just makes me......... uncomfortable.

  Lots of "transgender" stuff makes me extremely uncomfortable.

  So far at work, no bad news. But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Who knows what awaits me each day as I go into work. I've yet to lose any friends, thank goodness. I am staying tuned.

  My son was here for a month. He just went home a few days ago. We had SO much fun. Actually for the first two weeks of that month as I had written, he and my mom were on vacation out of town, but for the remainder of the time he was mine to enjoy, when I wasn't working. He is such good company. The older he gets, the more fun he is to be with. I miss him. Duh.

  I'm gaining too much weight. I need to start my walking again.

  I am in serious "Get-My-Birth-Certificate-Changed" mode now. In the past it seemed that it was not that critical, but in the "post 9/11 world" I am feeling that it is going to be very important to have had that done.

   

  That's it. I'm a bore.
  All the cool kids say so.
  Trish

Tuesday, September 5th, 2006

• Did you ever have a...

  ...crush on somebody so bad that it can hurt?

  "Yes."

  Somebody you will never have? I guess my consolation is that at this age, "magic", however unrequited, can still happen.

  I don't mean to be mysterious. I just needed to express myself, because nothing else will ever become of it.

   

  She's in love with the boy.
  Trisha Yearwood

Sunday, September 10th, 2006

• Some folks speak...

  ...of seeing the "shock" and the "awe" on the faces of people who have not seen them since they have "accepted their true selves" and are now wearing mini-skirts and lipstick. They really enjoy seeing the look of surprise, astonishment and yes, even dismay on the old friend's kissers.

  Years ago I used to carry around photos of "Trish" and I would show them to people I was "coming out" to. I think for me it was a way of saying, this guy you see in front of you is not the person you are actually seeing in front of you, at least not anymore it isn't. This (points to photo) is who I feel I am. I look back on this and feel kind of stupid about it. I dunno.

  But this "shock" and "awe" and "dismay" thing seems to goes on for years with some folks and it appears to be a form of entertainment for them. They go back to their support group friends and exclaim, "You should have SEEN the look on their face! It was priceless!" , or "I can't WAIT to see the look on their faces when they get a load of me."

  Or maybe it is just an affirmation of sorts. Me? I don't need or want that kind of attention.

  Overheard: "My mom and my sisters all wear D cups so when I start HRT I should develop quite a rack."

  Oh, real nice for ya, buddy. That's a big 10-4 on the boobs.

   

  Honk honk!
  Trish