Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

Telecommunication #1, Friday: former co-worker M calling* and telling me to talk to my HR department to see if they'll let me work for them from Canada, and maybe even sponsor me.

Telecommunication #2, Saturday: my ex texted me to tell me to make plans for Canada. If you'll recall, Ex is Jewish and like many if not most American Jews she lost relatives in the Holocaust.

Telecommunication #3, Sunday: Good Sister called with what she called an update with no real news. Her lawyer is being kind of weird about getting us permission to sell Mom's house, telling GS not to call the court about it. My sister is a ball of frustration about to go super-critical. She's calling the court today, and has let her weird lawyer know that.

Telecommunication #4, Sunday: I texted the director of Lambert House asking if they'd sent out their 1099s yet; I can't file my taxes until I've seen it. He responded with a thumbs-up tapback. What does that even mean?

The thing is, the Canadians aren't going to do squat for trans Americans unless their lives are directly threatened, and maybe not even then. Sure, I'll talk to HR and update my go bag, but really? That's about it.



*We're Xers. We talk on the phone.

But first:
Good: I got my fat tax refund. Good Sister calls me "speedy".
Bad: I can't spend it because I may need to use it to help recover my mother's house. I've already promised GS that I'd save it.

OK, back to commuting. I patted myself on the back for being a little early out the door. Of course I jinxed myself: we were one stop north of the bridge that I cross on my southbound bus when, thanks to being in a handicapped seat, I heard the dude on the radio to drivers on my route. There was an accident up ahead, and they were to be rerouted. The best part: as we crawled across the bridge, the radio dude came on again to reroute the reroute in order to use a different bridge. Le sigh.

But the real fun was as we were trying to rejoin the regular route. The driver almost turned the wrong way on a one way street. I was the only one who said, "This is 4th!" It's supposed to be 3rd Ave. The driver asked the help of passengers to avoid a collision as he backed up in a sixty-foot articulated bus. Bonkers!

Amazingly enough, I got to work only five minutes late.

I had the day off today, and a good night's sleep last night. Circumflatulation etc. ensued.

Le sigh: I talked with Good Sister. She still doesn't know the status of our attempt to get Mom's house away from the reverse mortgage company, and she dreads explaining the situation (again?) to Mom. This means that I can't spend any tax return money that I get this year until further notice. I guess I'm going to accrue some interest.

Good: The idiot light in my car is most likely the result of the Wendling's failure to screw the gas cap on tightly enough, according to the distractingly attractive young lady at the Toyota dealership who met me at the door to their garage. Instead of chilling there all afternoon as I expected, I hit the nearby used rekkid store.

Aw, yeah: I pulled the trigger on buying a plane ticket to London. I'll be there April 9-22. I've been warned that I won't want to come home. I'm hoping I get to meet some of the trans women I've typed at on the Bird Site.

Not anticipation: I have all my W-2s, I think. I've printed out my 1040 & Schedule 1. That's right: time to do my taxes.

Anticipation: There shall be Neapolitan pizza with salad and beer this evening, courtesy of my son. He insisted on buying because I never told him what I wanted for my birthday. Honestly, I couldn't think of anything aside from that pizza. And a round-trip plane ticket to London.

Oh, and about the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: We queers owe him a huge debt that we must not forget*. He showed us the way, and that way involved getting in trouble and pissing people off. Fun fact, gleaned from KEXP: Stevie Wonder did a song called "Happy Birthday" that's about MLK. Wonder helped lead the campaign to get MLK Day made into a national holiday.



*You want to repay that debt? The closest you'll ever come is actively fighting racism.