Finding the right ones

As a intersex woman, finding or getting into a relationship is a little hard at times. There are 4 types of guys I always come across. 
1.   The guy that just wants to experiment and find out what he wants, but in the meantime not really taking your feelings into consideration.
2.   The guy that wants you to be a secret or a down low relationship, and this guy is typically married or has a girlfriend. 
3.   The guy that views it as a fetish or thinks of you as a toy.
4.   Last but not least, the good guy. Now this guy is out there, but sometimes you can’t see him even if he is right in front of you.   
You’ve been though all the other guys so now you just believe all guys are the same. Or you have a really specific type.  That is all good, but nobody is perfect and you are probably never going to find the right guy that has 100% of everything you want and need. If you do find that guy he is either pretending or hiding something.
But… if you do find the ultimate guy of your dreams, good for you girl!  And like can you help a sister out here?  
I think everyone goes through challenges when getting or finding that person to connect with no matter the gender, race and so on.  Just at the end of the day, don’t sacrifice parts of yourself to get the guy, or try to make someone like you.   Because we are all perfect as we are no matter what.

Life’s Little Laughs

I wanted to go get another plant for my room, so my mom and I went to the store to get one the next day. I picked out a long and beautiful green Ivy plant. As we arrived at checkout my mom begins to pay for it. All of a sudden she pulls out her VA card and says, “This is my VA card. It’s for my prescriptions.” The cashier just gave a weird but understanding look at my mom. So as my mom finished paying (with a real credit card) the cashier says, “You know, if you fill out a form about being a VA veteran you can get a discount.” My mom stops to think and replies, “Oh, OK.” Then we head out the Magic doors that open as you arrive. Later, laughing with my mom about the awkward moment of pulling out her VA card, I start to understand what she was trying to say: Can I get a discount from me showing my VA card like I do at other stores or restaurants. So anyway, going places with my mom can be an adventure, or just really time consuming. But in the end I at least have a bag full of new stuff. So, yeah, love shopping with my mom.

~ Gean

Goodbye 2018

They say that whatever you do on New Year’s Day you’ll be doing the rest of the year.

They also say that black-eyed peas and cornbread ensure good luck for the upcoming year.

Not sure if I believe in the second one, but just in case there is a grain of truth to the old wive’s tales, I’ve made an effort to comply.  Can’t stomach black-eyed peas, but BBQ pork & beans slow cooked with maple bacon and hamburger over corn chips just might do the trick.  We’ll see how this year goes, and add some chili powder next New Year’s.  Maybe the idea is to clear out your colon, you know, kind of a symbolic sweeping out of the past year’s bad luck.

I discovered a lot about skin care in December.  Did you know that spray foam designed to insulate those nasty cracks beneath your exterior doors does not smooth over the cracks in your skin.  Don’t even ask about my nails.   I ended up leaving lot’s of  Hansel and Gretel type crumbs of hardened foam all through the house as I frantically searched for any type of chemical that would dissolve or soften this yellow crap.  Dish soap, bleach, insecticide, Lysol, Murphy’s oil, kerosene – none worked.   Acetone, yes!  Didn’t have any.  Ended up scouring most of this off with a wire dish scrubber.

And lo and behold, within days, Daughter #1 send me the most glorious gift of all!  A Revlon Paraffin hand bath.   Oh, the wonder!  The delight!  I have never had my hands and feet waxed before!  The rest of me still looks old and decrepit, but my hands and feet look 20 years younger.  Not to be outdone, Baby girl gave me a mani and a pedi and painted my nails.  She also threw a mask on my face,  so now my face only looks 10 years older than my hands.  But she also gave me an aromatherapy necklace so at least I can be all zen about the disparity of ages among my body parts.

She’s a sly one, she is, Baby Girl.  Eager for us to pursue the after Xmas sales.  Says she needs new clothes.  What?  Why?  She has an entire second bedroom up there dedicated to her wardrobe, shoes, make up and jewelry.  One look told me I have apparently had all of my upstairs re-carpeted during the past six months.  A second look told me the new carpet was her entire wardrobe, tried on and casually discarded, covering the entire floor.  After a short but sweet come to Jesus moment, it was decided that there will be no new clothes until my carpet is back to it’s original condition.  That was two weeks ago.  I’m afraid to look.

I love my daughters.  I love my son.  And that kind of brings me back to the original statement of this story.  How do I spend the first day of the new year?  How to make it symbolic of what I want and hope for this year?  Like everyone else, I want love, peace, happiness, joy, and acceptance for everyone.  And I want some for me too.  I’ve ridden the waves of love and hate, anger and remorse, joy and depression for years.   It’s the human thing to do, and I don’t truly think this is going to change.

I spent today remembering that as I love, I need to spread the love.  Every day. Unconditionally.  Today, I did not clean house, I did not pay bills, nor did I worry about where the next dollar came from.   I slept late, cooked a yummy meal for my loved ones (thank you,  Penzeys Spices).  Watched the winter birds forage for food.  Fed the feral cats.  Watered the plants.  Held my daughter’s hand, and smoothed the soft fur of my sweet cat and dog family.  Prayed for my family, my friends and neighbors, and all peoples of this world.   Prayed for the peace of this world and all of her creation.

I held peace in my heart today, and prayed that I may hold it there all this next year.

And that’s what I did on the first day of this New Year.

 

~ Gean’s Mom

‘Tis the Season!

Some where in the Frigid Northeast of The United States of America, there is an infant shivering in the cold.  Like 5 degree temperature Fahrenheit, folks.

No, no, not in a manger with shepherds and  brilliant guiding stars, and angels singing on high from above, but on a sidewalk in a small town in the U.S. North with approximately one-half of the local citizenry as witnesses.  And canned, recorded, old Christmas music blaring over the local emergency broadcast system.

Mama and Dada brought their precious child to his first small town Christmas parade.

You know the parades where every fire company in a 50 mile radius cleans and decorates their majestic fire trucks.  Rescue trucks too. Candy is thrown to the excited children.  Tractor stores, Tree Trimming companies, Septic Cleaning companies, High School hockey teams, Veteran’s groups, Honor Guards, Local Churches, the Sheriff, the Local Police, EMS in the parade – it really is great to watch all of the small town camaraderie.  Lots of back slapping and reminiscing and laughter.  Other than freezing toes, I was really in to this small town expression of brotherly love.

Then, someone smelled a Poopy diaper, or maybe a bad ass fart.  Ah, poor baby got passed off to Mama to investigate and remedy the situation on the spot.  So sad for baby.

Shivering in the cold.

Meanwhile, Baby Boomer Mom is slowly backing up into me.   “We need to move further down,” she says.  OK, so we do.  Away from small baby.  And I’m thinking, “Wow, the smell.”

At a safe distance half way down the block, I notice Mom sneaking peeks at the family scene we just left behind.   “Damn,” she says.  “Those beans flat tore me up.  We just really needed to get out of there before they opened up the diaper.”

My mom.  Please, if there is a God in Heaven, forgive her.

Poor baby.

Joys of Aunthood

In other news today, it seems that youngest nephew decided to pee in big sister’s toy teapot and serve it to her dolls. About the same time as the tea party (which sister missed), sister was having the lump and cut on her head examined by the school nurse.  Note:  Walking backwards in the hall using the “eyes in the back of her head” doesn’t work as well as Mommy’s eyes do in the back of HER head.

I prefer to think of my nieces and nephews as gifted and creative.  They think outside the box.  WAY outside the box, but with only the genius a child can possess.

Others. I fear, see them as:

1) so far away from the box they can’t see the edges anymore, or

2) that they are buried deep within the darkness of the box.

I really love these kids!

~ Gean