Saturday

17 August 2019

Basically every year for the last three years, we've decided to sell the motorcycle and scooter. The first time, after a short ride, the Spouse Thingy changed his mind because it was so much fun. In April, when we actually got to the point of posting an ad for the scooter, I changed my mind after an interested buyer realized the little scooter he thought he was going to look at was actually a pretty big scooter. When he passed, I was relieved, and figured that meant I wanted to keep it.

But...since then we've gone on two rides. That's it. I may have gone out a couple times on my own, but I've had this thing for four years and have only put a little over 1200 miles on it.

It's definitely fun to ride. When I'm on it, I have a blast.

The problem is that when I have a choice, I grab a bicycle instead. I'd much rather tool around town on that. And since I'm not a fan of the Interstate, and the back roads around here kinda suck, going on a joyride no longer appeals to me.

So...this week they're going up for sale again.

The Spouse Thingy is off for 10 days, and with any luck we can get them sold in that time.

Cross your fingers. We have a patio cover to pay for and the funds from these would just about pay for that.

I'm also going to try to sell a couple of my bicycles...and turn around and get another one LOL

No, not the screaming pink beast. That one is my favorite. But the newish gray Marin just isn't working out for me, and the older Raleigh isn't being ridden, so I won't cry if someone buys them. I need to put all the stock items back on (I'm keeping the new seat and post, and the new bars, because I still want to get a beater to learn to work on and those might become part of a future Frankenbike) but this might be a good time to sell a bike.

We're close to UCD and the bike culture there is strong, and with the semester starting soon and all those kids moving in, I should be able to sell them.

So...if you want a Piaggio MP3 500 or a 1600cc Triumph Thunderbird, both in excellent condition, I know where you can score.

Wednesday

7 August 2019

If you follow Max's author page on Facebook, you know he now has a mancat cave. Basically, we took the dammit machines out of the spare room (which involved taking the treadmill apart...apologies to the Spouse Thingy) and shoved the sofa and love seat in there.

Max is already embracing the idea of his very own room. Most nights, he bugs the crap out of me until I stop working, set the computer aside, and offer my lap.

Tonight?

I offered my lap and he jumped up, circled like 4 times, and gave me this look like, "Eh, I have something better." He wandered off down the hall, and when I went back there, he was lounging on the love seat, looking at me like, "I'm the King, dammit."

We'll let him think this was all an unexpected gift for him. The truth is that he and Buddah had basically ruined that furniture, and the last time I tried to vacuum it, I realized it was kinda gross.

I really didn't want anyone coming over and sitting on it. Yet, it's perfectly functional and they both love it, and combined with the reality that neither I nor the Spouse Thingy enjoyed having the exercise equipment in the hottest room in the house made the idea of swapping the two rooms ideal.

However.

There was a lesson learned here. And that lesson was if you buy a decent treadmill, and have it delivered and built in the room you think you'll use it, make fricking sure it will actually fit through the damned door. This monster treadmill would not fit through the door, not even close, so today the Spouse Thingy carefully took it apart, and it still barely went through.

We're assuming it can be reassembled. If not...that's a damned expensive paperweight.

In any case, the cats are happy, the gross furniture is still in use, and we no longer have a family room. Just an expanded Room of Pain. One that has a nice fireplace for winter and a giant TV that pretty much only gets turned on to watch the news.

It won't be attractive, but...I bet it gets used more often.

Monday

5 August 2019

When The Space Between Whens was published, I waited for the fallout. There was sure to be fallout, because I’d normalized something a few people I knew were certain was not normal, and HOW COULD I? What hiccup in my brain would ever think that was normal? GOD WILL SMITE YOU

And I was not wrong. I heard everything from “You’re closet trans, aren’t you, you freak?” to “I hope you get hit by a bus and I am never ever ever ever reading anything you write again you horking doodyhead.”

I may be paraphrasing a bit.

But, yeah, I went there. I have several trans friends; a couple are openly out, a couple are not. I knew one or two long before they began the processes of getting their bodies to match their gender; I knew one or two long after and would have had no idea had they not said something. Truthfully, the only things that matter to me about the journey each of them is on is that they’re safe, and that they’re happy.

Neither of those things is a given, no matter who you are. But when you’re openly trans, or even when people think you might be, you are not safe. Not in today’s political climate. .

There are a myriad of reasons I wrote about a boy who, despite the more normative culture I envision the Wick universe to reside in, has zealously held onto his secret, who was then presented with an option that every trans friend I have wanted: easy, affordable, it’s-your-right medical care. To not just appear the gender they know they are, but for the world to not have a way to determine they were ever anything BUT who they know they are. Mostly, I wanted people to see themselves in Jay; the horror of how he’s treated by his stepfather, the conflicting emotions he feels toward the man standing in his way, and the hoops that people who truly love him will go through to make his life a tiny bit easier. I’d hoped that by seeing his pain and then his victory, people would soften their views, even a little bit.

Well…since I am now apparently going to Hell because I, for even one moment, think there’s nothing wrong with THOSE PEOPLE, I fell short.

Or maybe there’s no reasoning with some people.

I don’t know.

What confuses me most about the people who had issues with the subject is that they present themselves as good, true Christians. When Target (the store) made it clear they weren’t going to stop people from using the restroom of their choice regardless of what’s between their legs, the same people got their shorts in a wad, stomped their feet, and swore they would NEVER shop there again.

Spoiler: they shopped there again.

When the military began allowing transgendered members to serve openly, they wailed. OMG HOW CAN THEY? They clutched their pearls and began hyperventilating at the idea of military surgeons performing gender surgeries….never taking into account that those surgeons need to operate across a myriad of specialties because things happen in war, and if your junk gets blown off, who do you want holding the scalpel? The guy who can do little more than perform a urostomy, or the guy who has, legitimately, crafted genitals for 500 other people?

And always, always, the objections come down to religion. YOU’RE PISSING GOD OFF WITH YOUR QUEER ACCEPTANCES.

Yeah, no. I don’t think so.

God’s not a dick.

I’m sorry you think so little of Him.

Here’s the thing, where I was headed to with all this: you don’t have to understand someone who’s journey is one you don’t understand nor wish to take. You don’t have to believe that it’s normal. You don’t have to believe that it’s right. But if you have any compassion, any sense of morals and ethics, you do have to back off and allow people their right to pursue happiness in whatever form they choose, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.

And a transgendered individual doesn’t hurt you, not really.

Offense is not hurt. Offense is lack of understanding.

Not mine, but I shared it on FB yesterday
That person heading into the restroom, the one you think just walked through the wrong door? They know where they need to be. They’re not there to do anything to you. They’re going in because they are subject to the same biological processes you are, and they just want to pee. You think that’s a man going in to do things to women and little girls? No…she just wants to pee. Maybe she still has a penis, maybe not, but she’s not there to do anything but take care of her own needs.


Stammer all you want. You know I’m right. If you pay any attention at all to statistics, you are fully aware that you’re not in harm’s way. If you’re honest with yourself, you know that sending your little boy into a men’s room with men who were correctly assigned gender at birth are more at risk than anyone else being in a restroom with someone in transition.


OMG YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY BELIEVE ANY OF THAT IS ALL RIGHT AND NO ONE IS BORN THE WRONG GENDER AND WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?

Here’s another thing: it doesn’t matter what I think. It matters how I treat people. But truthfully, I don’t think there’s anything wrong or weird or abnormal about being transgendered—or nonbinary, gender fluid, or gender queer. I think people know who they are and what they are, and it’s not up to me to define that for them. And if you get right down to it, I also don’t think it matters if someone wants to change gender on a whim. It’s not my life.

OH YOU SAY THAT BUT WHAT IF YOUR SPOUSE DECIDED TO CHANGE?

:::shrugs::: I think by now I would know if that were an issue, but it wouldn’t change anything. I wouldn’t leave. I wouldn’t freak out. I love the Spouse Thingy for who the Spouse Thingy is, and there’s not much that could change that. I would miss the beard, though. I really dig the beard.

Love is love is love is love.

You don’t have to believe any of it is normal. You truly don’t. You’re allowed to be uncomfortable and twitchy about the whole thing. But that doesn’t give you license to stand in someone’s way. It really doesn’t.

Matthew 7:1

Go on. Look it up. I’ll wait.

WWJD?

Lead with love, I imagine.

And if you’re not sure, if the whole idea creeps you out, if you don’t want to judge but can’t help yourself?

Be kind.

That’s it.

Be kind.