And So It Begins...

"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." ~ Woody Allen

I made a resolution to start the new year with a clean room and a clean attitude. I planned out my attack, decided what to do with all the stuff I want to get rid of (it's going to Goodwill), and took New Year's Eve off from work so I could get an early start.

And then I came down with a flu. Hear that sound? It'd God laughing His ass off.

Well, the clean attitude came into play here, and I did what I could with my room despite the weakness and the nausea and the screaming pain behind the eyeballs.

I've taken over the guest room to deal with my clothing surplus... one bed is covered with laundry, which I cart out of my room by the armload every time I exit; the other is covered with clean clothes that I intend to keep, and there's a big box (in which our new vacuum cleaner was delivered) slowly filling up with clothes that don't fit very well or which I no longer wear. I also went through my CDs, including software, and got rid of everything I don't want. Laying around and feeling miserable took up the rest of both days (as well as celebrating midnight with the Grandmother and a very ill-looking Dick Clark, watching a few episodes of the HBO series Rome, and FaceBooking all over the place...I'm totally addicted to FaceBook just now).

So once I have all the clothes out of the room, I am going to start taking out the trash... there's a lot of it, and should take up this evening fairly well (I'm now feeling a lot better and hopefully will have the energy when I get home from work). Then Saturday I take out all the pillows and stuffed animals off the bed, wash all the bedding, and cover the bed with a dust-sheet to become (for the day) my book-sorting surface. I'm emptying my shelves, dusting them (this is the important part), and putting the books that I want to keep back in nice neat order...and putting the rest into the Goodwill box. The goal is to reduce everything by a third.

Sunday I will take down the tree and put Christmas back in the attic for another year, and then on Monday I return to the gym (with all the other Resolutionists, it will be crowded) and start my diet-and-exercise regimen anew. And then, giggling God willing, I will be starting the new year nice and fresh!

Other plans for the new year include getting my finances under control (shopping may only occur when there's a surplus from the previous month) and getting a handle on my mental state (I have an appointment with my shrink first thing in February, and the diet-and-exercise thing as well as the cleaner room are designed to help lift the depression a little more in the meantime). Finish my novel, write more on my blog, go to more meetings, do more work at work (and less FaceBook), and exercise more patience with the Grandmother rounds out the list.

I'm looking forward to accomplishing some of these things this year (or at least keeping God ROFLMAOing). This is a Seventh Year of my life, and Seventh Years always bring amazing changes, so I am hopeful and excited about 2009.

I'll keep you posted on my progress!

Fake It 'Til You Make It!

My depression is still dogging me, not as heavily as it was but rather in waves of sadness and nights of obsessive thinking; my joints still hurt; I still haven't done any laundry and am now wearing mismatched socks; I'm still tired all the time; my bank account keeps overdrawing itself no matter how I try to juggle things; I'm still fat and uncomfortable in my own skin.

But you know what? I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. I'm going to smile and laugh, anyway. I'm going to pretend I feel good, and I'm going to enjoy whatever I can enjoy. I'm going to decorate the Christmas tree, no matter how much I hate the filthy stinking thing. I am going to cook Christmas food no matter how much I resent having to do it. I am going to set a festive Christmas table no matter how much I want to pound the forks into the wall and toss the glasses down the chimney. I am going to exude Christmas cheer over all and sundry even if it kills me.

It's not really that hard. I let people know that I'm still feeling a little crazy, so they won't be surprised when the mask falls and I start screaming and trying to stab myself in the eye with a Bic pen; but I don't let the being down get me down; I don't let let negativity dwell.

And when all else fails, I look at beautiful boys. Beautiful boys always cheer me up.

Sick and Tired

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome sucks. I doubt if what I'm dealing with would be characterized as CFS by a physician, but I am certainly experiencing some symptoms, and I'm sick and tired of them. Being tired all the time is just so bloody inconvenient.

I wanted to go to a Court show today, Mama P's Charitable Christmas, in fact I've been planning on it all week... I planned what I was going to wear, what I was going to perform, all that. But come the day, I was too damned tired, I had too much else to do around the house, and I just couldn't pull myself together enough to even go, much less dress and perform.

And so instead of sporting the rather fabulous gold outfit I've been longing to wear for some months, I lay here playing Blood Lust on FaceBook and reading. I got up to take a shower, at least to get dressed and maybe get some housework done, but showering and dressing made me so tired I was shaking, so I had to come back and lay down.

After my bout of depression last month, I have yet to fully recover what little strength I'm used to. I've been sick with nameless ailments twice, one a sort of flu and the other an obvious cold, each lasting a few days and making life difficult. I haven't missed any work, or at least I didn't until this Friday, and my productivity is OK, but maintaining my standards is very draining. So when the weekends come, I'm so done in that I spend the whole time laying around instead of doing the things around the house that need doing, both for Christmas and for just regular upkeep. Simply feeding myself is a challenge.

I'm not sleeping well these last few days, and that's taking the greatest toll. I have a hard time dropping off, I wake up a lot, and I have very vivid and sometimes disturbing dreams.

The thing is, I'm having to face the possibility that this is what life is going to be like... that this is something I'm going to have to learn to manage, rather than something that will go away if I could just eat the right things or get enough rest or even change my medications. What if this is just the beggining? What if CFS is about to becoe part of my life the way bipolar disorder has become part of my life?

It's kind of scary to consider. I don't want it, no thank you, not today.

But then, I don't get to choose, do I?

As always, I shall remind myself that it could be worse, that taken all in all I have a pretty OK life. But I still wish it was completely OK. Or maybe even fantastic.

Is "fantastic" really so much to ask?

Reason Regains Her Throne

I just came through a very dark time. I mean, I was angry that Prop 8 was on the ballot at all, I was angered by the outright lies of the Yes on 8 advertising, but I had no idea I could even be as angry as I was when it passed. The rage took up every corner of my heart and mind. The desire to punish and hurt was so strong I could barely function around it.

The thing is, I have no way of processing that kind of anger. All I know to how to do is hold it in so that I don't do anything while I'm angry which I'll later regret; I couldn't even talk about the topic, much less my feelings, without spewing hate and ugliness... I had no safe vent for the feelings, they were so horrible and destructive that to let them loose for a second would hurt somebody.

What I really needed was to be able to just curl up and hide, ride the feelings out, pray and meditate my way through the anger... unfortunately, I had to work. And at work, due to some sudden personnel changes, I've once again been spending most of my time in the Career Center with all the various customers coming and going... so many interruptions, so many sketchy personalities, so many little crises and concerns, and me doing my WASP best (which is not inconsiderable, if I do say so myself) to be pleasant and to smile and to pretend there was nothing wrong.

Which I suppose, for a normal person, would be exhausting... and it was exhausting... but I'm not a normal person: I'm a manic-depressive, so all of the above spun me into a depression so profound that suicide was my every other thought. It was probably the lowest ebb of depression I've ever experienced, even worse than before I was medicated. It was too terrible even to talk about, not to my best friend, not to my shrink, not even to you.

One of the elements making things even more miserable is that I firmly believe that Grandmother voted for Prop 8. Maybe she didn't, but I feel certain her "Christian" principles would have demanded it of her. Still, I haven't asked her, largely because I was afraid of what I might say or do if it turned into an argument... I could clearly visualize myself smacking the shit out of a ninety-year-old woman, and I couldn't let that happen. But the feeling of pain that this suspicion caused me made everything so much worse... I had to shield Grandmother from my anger, so I invented an illness so that she'd leave me alone. She thought I was coming down with a flu, and I let her believe that.

So after three workdays of this ghastliness, I finally got to Saturday... I got a lot of sleep, going to bed at six Friday evening and not getting up until ten the following morning. Then I went out with Caroline and bought some new clothes, which always makes me feel better. And then I spent the rest of the day on the couch watching inanities and taking catnaps.

Sunday, however, brought a fresh hell: church. A room full of Christians, many of whom also probably voted for Prop 8, singing about their God of Love and Peace and Whatever, their hearts full of hypocrisy, their disgusting religion hurting more people than it could possibly help (at least those were my thoughts at the time).

After the sermon, I abandoned Grandmother in Bible class, telling her I had to step out for some fresh air and taking a brisk mile-or-so walk around the neighborhood. During that walk I boiled over all of my hatred for (inspired by anger toward) the so-called Christians who worked so hard to pass this discriminatory Constitutional amendment: thinking about all of the money raised by members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (some $25 million, all tolled), thinking about how many orphans that would have fed, how many homeless it would have housed, how many sick it would have comforted. What Would Jesus Do With $25 Million? I wanted to ask them.

My thoughts then turned to my relationship with Grandmother: could I forgive her, if indeed she did vote for Prop 8? And if not, what would I do? Would I give up my relationship with her, move out of the house, live in my car or go couch-surfing if I had to?

And the answer was: Yes. I could do that. But not while I'm angry. I will have to give some thought in the coming weeks about how and whether I can continue to live with a person who thinks that homosexuality is a sin... or, rather, someone who labors under the false delusion that homosexuality is more of a sin than other sins which she and others commit all the time. I just have to wait until all the anger is gone before I can talk to her about it.

Of course, by then, I will probably have lapsed back into inertia and complacency. Yes, I could leave Grandmother... but will I? It's such a lot of effort. Another topic for prayer and meditation, to be sure.

I guess what really boils down to is that I don't understand where these people get off... what is their beef with homosexuality, anyway? What difference does it make to them? Sure, OK, let's say for a moment that it's a sin, that God wants us to not indulge in homosexual behavior. Kind of an asshole-y God, if you ask me, but for the sake of argument, let's take the Bible at face value.

Even then, it's pretty minor: it's only mentioned three or four times (five or six if you stretch a point), it's not one of the Commandments, and Jesus Christ never said Word One about it (not that was recorded, anyway). Sure, those three or four mentions are pretty damning, but have you read them in context? Each one of those mentions is accompanied by admonitions against adultery, as well as a few other things. And Christ Himself said that to divorce and remarry is to commit adultery... and even my sainted Grandmother divorced her first husband and then remarried. A forty-seven year adulterous relationship? For shame!

Logically, I can understand: you focus on a sin that you yourself are not interested in committing, and then you imagine that this sin is much worse than any sin you might commit, in order to compare it to the sins you do commit and feel better about them... comparison to someone supposedly worse than you is the easiest way to feel better about yourself.

But how can people claim that God is working in their lives when these kinds of spiritual dichotomies and lazinesses and outright hypocrisies still live in their hearts? Where exactly do they get off pointing out the splinter in my eye while ignoring the planks in their own? How can their God allow them them to be so blind?

If that God is the real true God, I'm better off without him. Such a God would be a dick, plain and simple, and not worth worshiping.

But God is not a dick. God is the controlling principle of the universe, He is all that is good... I believe that with all my heart. My jury is still out on Jesus, but I can't believe in the Bible because the God of that Book is a dick.

A lot of people defend organized religion by pointing out all of the good it does. But I truly believe that the people who do perform good works in God's name would do so without a church or a book telling them to so do... just as the assholes of the world would still be assholes without a church or book to back up their evil. People are good or evil in their own right, in their own hearts; religion is just a structure on which to lay that good or evil... it would exist without the structure just as well.

But what organized religion can and does do is to poison the hearts of good people with misinformation, and it is for that reason that I think the good it does is outweighed by the evil it does.

See, my Grandmother doesn't want to think of me as sinful, she doesn't want me to go to Hell, she doesn't want me to be punished... but she was taught by the assholes who perverted her religion that I am sinful and will be punished in Hell... and she has to believe that in order to believe everything else they told her, all about Jesus and Heaven and eternal life. It all comes of-a-piece for her, her mind formed long ago around faith-based thinking; she can no more change that than learn to think in German. Her natural goodness continues to nurture me and the rest of the family, but the poisonous hate she ingested in youth prevents her from loving me as completely as she wants.

Well, anyway, the proposition passed, and everyone has moved on to the next steps... getting it overturned being the first logical step. In the meantime, a lot of people have taken other steps, protests in front of Temples and City Halls, petitions to revoke the tax-free status of churches and to illegalize divorce, for no other reason than to show Those People what idiots they're being. They seem rather futile gestures to me, but we all have to deal with our anger and disappointment in our own ways.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm just glad I'm not so angry anymore. I am still angry, but it's the containable anger that I've been carrying around with me through years and years of unfairness and discrimination, the anger at the first person who called me a faggot when I was seven, the anger at the last person who made fun of me because I'm effeminate, the anger that keeps me working toward a goal of justice and liberty.

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In other news, here's my Halloween costume, as previously promised, though a couple of weeks late:


This is the version I wore to work, the version with the least number of accessories and encumbrances. I won the costume contest with it... though the victory would have been somewhat more satisfactory if I hadn't also been the person who organized the contest and purchased the prize.

By the way, that black beard is not painted on... I actually dyed it black, as well as my eyebrows and my hair. My hair didn't come out so well, it was very patchy in the back, but I just packed it with product and slicked it down; the whole effect was quite delightfully sinister. And I actually look pretty good with black hair, it complements my skin tone. Of course I tried dying it back to brown afterward, but it was a disaster and my hair is now a tricolor mess.

But back to Halloween... later on, Caroline and I went out to the City to check out the revels there...


The wig and the jabot were added, which were too warm to wear to the office (hence the hair-dye), as was a full-length black cape with a rather fantastic stand-up collar which I did not get photographed. Ah, well. Caroline dressed as a 50s Showgirl:


We had a pretty good time, me ogling the other costumes (sneering at the store-bought as a good queen should) and Caroline meeting new people (cute boys and effusive girls) along the way, then hanging out at Cookie Dough's Halloween Show at the Octavia Lounge, but I had been at work all day and was incredibly tired by the time we went out, and then finding parking was even more of a nightmare than usual... we ended up parked on Geary and Divisadero, about two and a half miles from Castro. Ridiculous! But still somehow better than taking mass transit.

Anyway, a good-enough time was had.

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In other other breaking news, I just came back to this post after watching Dancing With The Stars and am thrilled that my beloved Cody survived this week's elimination. This is the second week he's been in the bottom two, and though I think his improvements are stellar, I don't know what kind of a fan-base he has (outside of myself) so I couldn't be sure he'd be spared. I was so worried about him, and he looked plenty worried, too... I think he was preparing to go home. But in the end, it was Maurice Green who was voted off... I thought he had improved a lot, too, but he was still rather graceless, strangely heavy on his feet for a runner... and he isn't a big-eyed blond moppet... so I wasn't sad to see him go.

So YAY! I get to see more of Cody next week, and he's such a cutie!

And speaking of cuties...

I just can't handle it...

I'm so unbearably angry right now that I can't even think. I can't function.

I want to scream, slash, maim, burn, destroy. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I want to hit somebody. I almost want to kill myself just to express my feelings.

I'm so furious and disappointed and hurt that I can't even enjoy the victory of Barack Obama... Prop 8's passage has ruined democracy for me.

For now, anyway. This, too, shall pass.

God, grant me strength, grant me patience, grant me understanding.

Dr. McDaddy!

My employer-paid medical benefits kicked in this month, so I made an appointment with the same GP I had when I was a Kaiser member before, just for a general checkup. Kaiser Permanente has made a few improvements to the way they make appointments, by the way, and I got an appointment two days later (last time I had to wait five weeks). Well, anyway, I got to the appointment on time, with a list of questions to ask (fatigue, gas, and arthritis), mentally prepared for all sorts of indignities like partial nudity and/or a prostate exam (which one would think I'd enjoy, but noooooooo).

So there I am sitting on the paper-lined bench, reading an ancient copy of Runner's World (the only magazines in the office), and in comes the doctor... and my jaw hit the floor! Now, I chose my doctor partly for his looks in the first place (I'm shallow like that), and I've met with him before, so I knew he was good-looking and had a sexy foreign accent; but he had heretofore always worn a white lab-coat and a tie and generally looked like a doctor. But this time he was wearing tight navy blue slacks and a charcoal-and-navy ringer-tee on his SERIOUSLY ROCKIN' BODY.

I don't know what he's been doing with himself during the twenty months since I last saw him, but he was effing hot. The man is in his mid-fifties, maybe even early-sixties, but the chiseled pecs, tiny waist, and bounce-a-quarter-off-it butt (not to mention the shiny gold hair, glowing bronzed skin, and glittering clear blue eyes) were what one might expect on a twenty-year-old. I was so dazzled and stunned that I quite forgot to ask about the fatigue and the gas (though he did refer me to an osteopath about the joint pain).

Something tells me that I'm going to get sick a lot in the near future. ;-)

Actually, I am healthier than I was when last I saw him... my blood-pressure has returned to normal (it was slightly high last time), my circulation is good, and though my triglycerides are still through the roof, my cholesterol is great. He wants me to lose some weight and get into a cardio exercise program at least three days a week to improve my muscle tone and get those nasty triglycerides under control (so it's back to the gym for me)... but for my age and weight, I'm in pretty good condition.

And I didn't have to take off my clothes, nor submit to a prostate exam (though I must say I was a trifle disappointed, seeing as how thoroughly I cleaned up for possible inspection).

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In other news, I have become completely addicted to the TV show Dancing with the Stars. I've always been a casual fan of ballroom dancing, but I tend to not like these shows where people are critiqued and eliminated... they seem so mean (even my second-favorite show, Project Runway, gives me a qualm about that... I get so sad when Heidi says Auf Wiedersehen, especially if it was one of the contestants I like).

But one Monday evening the Grandmother and I were sitting at the table after dinner; I usually leave the table after Jeopardy!, or maybe Wheel of Fortune if there's a cute guy on, but this time I was working on the Sunday crossword and so stayed at the table later than usual.

And while I sat there trying to think of a five-letter word for "Tahitian currency," the season premiere of DWTS came on, and I got hooked immediately: I mean, I like Lance Bass (I don't know if I'm more interested in him because I now know he's gay, or if the coming-out process made him more interesting), and I adore Cloris Leachman, so they were reason enough to watch; but right there at the beginning they had Cody Linley dancing... those of you who don't have young people in your homes (or who have better things to do with their lives than watch Disney Channel even when there aren't children around) probably don't know this Hannah Montana cutie. I recognized him from the show, on which I thought he was kind of pretty but rather goofy with much-too-large features on a rather small face; but I have to tell you, that boy has gotten gorgeous in the months since his last HM appearance, since turning eighteen, since reaching his full and impressive height.


So yeah, now I have this huge horrible crush on Cody Linley, and though I enjoy watching Lance and Cloris and the other celebs hoofing it in front of the live audience (oh, and I guess a couple of the pros are fun, too), I only keep watching for Cody. I am deeply ashamed of myself.

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So having developed crushes on someone old enough to be my father (if just barely) and another one young enough to be my son, I find myself feeling a trifle confused. Maybe I need to find someone hot of my own age to fantasize about, and I'll have The Three Ages of Man. Maybe I'll have to start watching Grey's Anatomy so as to drool over the incredibly sexy Patrick Dempsey, whom I know is only twenty-three months older than I... unfortunately, I tried watching Grey's Anatomy the other night, as it comes on right after my fave show Ugly Betty, but I just couldn't get into it. Medical shows tend to bore me. Maybe if they kept Patrick onscreen and shirtless at all times, I could stomach it?

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So let's see... what else is new? Oh, yeah, my new office got redone last weekend, and it's gorgeous! New furniture, new paint, new layout... here's my desk BEFORE (this was right before the redecorating, my desk wasn't usually this bare):


And now (ta-daaaah), my desk AFTER:




Isn't she pretty? The walls are this incredibly soothing sage green on one side and an equally soothing creamy-beige called "Navajo White" on the other, and my desk is on the other side of the room so I can see out both windows at once. I also get a cross-breeze right over my desk, so I'm always nice and cool.

The Before picture was taken with my cell-phone, but the After pix were taken with my brand new camera (which I couldn't really afford but had to have anyway, a Samsung L100 in glittering bright red); after taking pictures of my new office space, I also took pictures of the building... this is a great view, and if you had it in full resolution (which I am not posting, both for privacy reasons [the pic is so clear you can read the license plate numbers] and for bandwidth reasons [the full-size pic is just over 2mg]) you could see one of my coworkers trying to break into her own car.

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Well, I guess that's enough out of me for the time being. I'll definitely be back before the end of the month to show you my Halloween costume. In the meantime, here's a tricky little treat for you (by way of Vera's Big Gay Blog):

Things Are Looking Up!

Wow, am I glad that's over! The depression, I mean... the rest of my life is still in pretty much the same place, but without the depression painting it black, it's all so much more manageable! Thanks for the well-wishes after the previous kvetch-fest, guys! It really does help to know that people are out there, caring.

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So today is my and Caroline's 25th Anniversary. We've been friends for a quarter of a century! Ever since we started sharing a locker in sophomore year of high school. We've had some hiatuses (hiati?) in that time, some periods where we didn't see each other much, some relationships that took us a little bit away from each other; but we've never lost touch, and in the last few years we've become incredibly close. I am extremely grateful for Caroline every day.

To celebrate, we drove down to Carmel by the Sea yesterday for some very luxe window-shopping (they have a lot of estate jewelers in Carmel, as well as furriers, art galleries, and a rock-shop containing some really spectacular geodes that had Caroline salivating all over the place), enjoying the rather Druidic weather on the drive down the coast, stopping for snacks here and there. Then we had dinner at one of our favorite coastside restaurants, Sam's Chowder House in Half Moon Bay, where they have the absolute best clam chowder in the world. The rest of their food is great, too, of course, and the service is exceptional. They also had a live band playing (rock/jazz, a little too loud for my tastes, but very festive).

We took some pictures, particularly of the magnificent opera-length Swarovski crystal necklace Caroline made for me, but they haven't been developed yet... instead, here we are celebrating the anniversary two years ago, at the historic Webster House in Alameda (which serves a kick-ass high tea):

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In other news, I have been attending some coronations in my effort to become more involved in the Court... two weekends ago I went to Sacramento's Grand Ducal Coronation, which was held in the really gorgeous back complex of Faces nightclub. I thought I looked pretty fierce, but nobody took a picture of me (and my camera is broken, I have to get a new one lest I lose more fabulous outfits to the mists of memory). I had a good time, though, chatting with Mama Portugal and Bill Bailey, SoHorny Beaver and Jimmy Alvarado, Ella Gant and Rich Ragnow. I didn't really know anybody else there, though (aside from the adorable Wesley, whose blog I recently added to my list), which is something I'm going to have to work on... I'm not much of a social butterfly, being ridiculously shy about talking to strangers.

Then the next weekend (last weekend) was San Francisco's Grand Ducal Coronation, which was held at the deliciously campy Swedish-American Hall on Market Street near the Castro. I went over with my good friends Angelique deVil and her partner Damon, who is my counterpart in this Reign as Crown Baron (did I mention that I am Crown Baroness? I think I did), and we had a great time getting ready together in their hotel room.

Of course, we ran late... we always do. But even after being shamefully behind schedule to start with, and then my having to park a zillion miles away (this was the night before Folsom Fair, you know, so the Castro was packed... I ended up parking at Market and Gough, over a mile away), we made it to the Hall just in time for our Walk! And I have to tell you, I looked fan-freaking-tastic!


This picture doesn't do the dress justice... it's full-length, with a sweeping trumpet hem and just a bit of a train, made of a material so blindingly sparkly that I felt like a disco-ball. You can't quite see my tiara, nor my rhinestone-studded shoes. I was The Personification of Bling, I tell you!

Oh, yeah, Angelique looked nice too ;-). I really do need to get a new camera so that I can get full-length pictures. Not much point in spending that much money on a full-length gown and not getting pictures of its full length.

I knew a lot more people at that event, since more of our own Court were there, and the San Francisco Courts overlap a good deal with San Francisco performance venues... so there were some familiar faces in the crowd, notably Pollo del Mar with whom I have a number of mutual friends. I also ran into Bill Jennings, late of Mermaniac fame, and though I didn't get a chance to sit and catch up with him, it was nice to see him and his partner there.

Also the same night was the Living Sober Fall Follies... by serendipitous luck, the venue for that event (the surprisingly elegant Everett Middle School on Church and 16th Streets) was only three blocks away from the Coronation event, so I was able to attend both. Again my timing was perfect... I was scheduled to be halfway through the second act, and I arrived exactly at 9PM, just before the second act started, giving me plenty of time to catch my breath, touch up my face, go potty, and schmooze a bit with old friends Ivy Drip, Cookie Dough, and Madasin Hatter; I also got to chat with Mary Regan, Liability, Sue Nami, and Barbra Jo Peterson.

After that, I went back to the Coronation, where I just missed the Final Walk performaces from Grand Duchess Big D and Grand Duke Oliver with a Twist; but I did get to sit and chat with Cindy Z and Tim Ava and some other Court folk, and watched the crowning of the new Grand Duke and Duchess, Carlos Medal and Landa Lakes. Then I schlepped back to my car (1.3 miles, according to MapQuest), then back to Angelique & Damon's hotel (where I got back into boyclothes and they changed into leathers for the exclusive Magnitude pre-Folsom event), then back home and finally to bed.

And if you think I wasn't in serious pain for several days after walking about four miles all tolled, in pumps that were slightly too big and a corset that was way too small, you got another think coming! I still have bruises on my waist, and the blisters on the balls of my feet are just now callused over. But it was totally worth it... I had such a great time, I'd happily do it again! (Though if I did it again, I'd bring a pair of walking shoes for sure!)

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So anyway, those are the big highlights of my life lately. The rest of The Life continues to putter along... I'm still not finished with my filing project, there have been so many interruptions and the creation of new files is taking longer than I expected; but I will get there, and hopefully within the next week. My health insurance has been activated, so I can start making appointments... I need to see a GP about this fatigue issue, and I need to see an eye doctor about getting new glasses (and maybe some contact lenses), and I need to get on board with a psychiatrist so that my Prozac supply doesn't dry up. My money situation is still bothering me, but at least I made my very final car payment... Miss Jane is now ALL MINE and I have the pink-slip to prove it! That will make things a little easier in the coming months, not having the car-payment expense anymore.

And so life goes on, tralalala, and I'm enjoying it for the most part.

How's with you?