Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

I wished Ex a happy 25th Unniversary via text. She replied, "Et toi." No kidding: we were married 25 years ago today. I moved out of the house we shared ten years ago today, only remembering later in the day that it was our anniversary.

And in quasi-political news, I ordered something for a circumflatulation project from an eBay seller in Virginia. The last time I ordered it, and the time before that, it arrived via USPS in five days, tops. This time it's been two weeks, and USPS claims it should be delivered today. Let that be a lesson to people who need to vote or transact other time-sensitive business by mail.

Today is the second of those ten-year anniversaries that I mentioned earlier. It's partly a somber anniversary: telling Ex that I was going to do something I'd been promising not to do for fifteen years, namely start living as a woman. She said, "You son of a bitch," and cried for two hours.

You may think this is a small thing to spill so many bits on, but it isn't. This was the hardest thing I've ever done, emotionally, and it was the single biggest hump in my entire transition, bigger than coming out at work or to my family, or beginning to live as a woman.

I haven't really thought about it all that much until I started this entry - I'm fortunate in my ability to focus on the positive - but at the time, it consumed my life for months. Imagine sharing a bed with someone who despises you. Imagine resenting her as you've never resented anyone because you want to get on with your life, your real life. That was me ten years ago.

But the last ten years have mostly been so wonderful that I can scarcely believe it. I admit to worrying that it will all come to a crashing halt: protracted unemployment due to being over 50, or Cheeto Hitler throwing me into a concentration camp for being too fabulous. Today, though, is the anniversary of my first real step toward making something wonderful happen for myself. And that's what life is about: taking those steps. I'll be walking 'til I drop.

( But first, my son tried to poison my dog. )

( San Francisco -- the Castro )

( Santa Cruz )

Considered going out tonight, but ran out of time and energy.