Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

I had my hormone levels checked on Wednesday, as do I and other trans women with the need & means. This happened, per Dr. Leather Bear's standing instructions, roughly in the middle of my two-week shot cycle. The level, 288 pg/ml, was about the same as the last several readings, so yay.

So far so dull, you say, but for the first time that I can recall I read in the lab report what levels are typical for cisgender women in various states. My reading is smack in the middle of the range for cisgender women who are ovulating.

That explains a few things about my personality and sex drive, doesn't it? And remember, my levels as a function of time follow a sawtooth pattern, so right after a shot my levels are probably at the high end for ovulation, and shortly before a shot they're at the low end of that range. Staying within at least some naturally occurring range for cisgender women (but not pregnant ones, apparently) is a stated goal of Dr. Leather Bear's because it's known to be relatively safe.

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When I went to ride my bike, I didn't quite lift my leg high enough. It struck my rear fender, thereby snapping it in two. Let that be a lesson to you: don't buy bottom-of-the-line bike accessories like I did, kids. This fender has been replaced with one that I hope is more durable.

When I went out for my ride this morning, I noticed that my front tire had lost about half its pressure in the twenty or so hours since I'd last ridden. (I didn't bother with a gauge.) Due to time constraints, I decided not to change the tube until tonight.

It had not lost any more air over the course of the day. So I'm conducting an experiment: I pumped it back up to see if the air will stay in there. When I took the pump off the valve, I did hear a suspicious, split-second hiss. Is intermittent valve failure a thing? How could that happen to a Schraeder valve with the cap on? Or is it a teeny, tiny puncture that needs higher pressure to force air through it? Tune in tomorrow!

I'd just finished my laps around Green Lake yesterday on Goldiebike yesterday. I was riding slowly back to from the trail to the streets on one of the narrower sidewalks. I see three older people, one with a cane, coming my way, so I slow way down and go around them. "Get off the grass!" the lady among them says.

I laugh, point out, "You're on the sidewalk!" and keep going, bound for the shower. Even if I'd dismounted, I'd still have been on the grass.

Sometimes I think nature tries to make us miss our elders less when they're gone. In this case, it's working on me.

I was almost half way through the first of my usual two laps of riding around Green Lake when there's this lady jogging in the bike lane with her little Boston terrier. I move to pass. The dog, however, is a kamikaze and runs right toward my path. I grab the brakes good and hard, naturally, and send myself right over my handlebars.

I have a bit of road rash on my hand & elbow and my front basket is trashed, but aside from that I'm OK. I've cleaned my wounds with alcohol, and I will soon pop some ibuprofen. Another cyclist who had been behind me encouraged me to exchange info, but I didn't. I just finished the lap and went home.

Happy Monday! I was thinking that basket looked kind of rusty anyway.

Went to the goth swap meet and scored a long velvet coat, two shortish skirts, and a wallet - all black, of course - all of which I either flat out needed or are better than something I already had. Total expenditure: $20. Socializing, too. Happiness.

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Got m'boy a new (to him) bike that's as least as good as mine, $170 at Recycled Cycles. Funny, I don't remember their prices & selection being that good two years ago. Timing? Economy?

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Tonight's plan, courtesy of xaotica, is Terrence Parker at Re-bar. First Church of House, Detroit Synod. Should be worth the rough Monday morning.

At around the 5800 block of 148th Ave. NE, there's a pedestrian-only stoplight. This stoplight is on the trail that I ride my bike on for eight blocks to and from work. I get to make cars stop on a four-lane street with a 40 MPH speed limit. I am drunk with power!

I've noticed a disproportionate number of trannies, including myself, using bicycles for either commuting, exercise, or both. Mind you, my survey methodology consists of reading LJ and chatting, but still, what's up with that?

With my Father's Day loot I got a new front basket for Goldiebike (That's extra girl points, right?) and installed it. It's wide enough to fit my backpack and a quart of yogurt. I had to relocate my headlamp and loosen the rear brake cable a little, but everything seems to be firmly attached and working.

Got more memory for m'boy's digicam, and some for my much older one, a Nikon Coolpix 885. What I should have researched first is that older digicams have an upper limit on the size of memory cards they can use; the oracle of the Internet says the limit for mine is 2 GB. Mine is so old it uses Compact Flash, which is apparently the Betamax of the memory card world. (My son's camera uses Secure Digital.) Yeah, this is all getting ready for Spain. I got a transformer, too, which I wish I could test.

ETA: Another trip to Fry's later, I've found that a 2 GB Compact Flash card does indeed work in my old camera. I'm set for Spain. For Burning Man (next year?) I'll need a way to charge batteries, though. Or better yet, a new camera.

I've donated my old bike to a group that's going to send them to Africa. This was the bike that took me to the UW and back, to work and back for a few years, and around Black Rock City in '07. It's pretty beat down now, and doesn't have enough gears for eastside commuting, so I hope it'll find a more loving home.

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Pimpin': Nibs writes a letter to Rush Limbaugh.