Much needed update

I originally started this blog to talk about all of the things that my MawMaw and i would do as a way to work through how difficult it had become to retain the energy and spirit needed to help someone you love at the end of your time together.  We would get into adventures on my day off and i liked the idea of chronicling our time together.  My use of profanity was both a reflection of my love of cursing and a way to lighten the mood.  I just signed back into this blog to find a post that i made after MawMaw passed away and posted that.  That post marks the end of a blog centered around her.  My new focus will simply be about my life in general.  I've titled this A Comedy of Autism because a big part of my life, the biggest part in fact, is my wonderful son.  He has autism and sensory processing disorder and a language impairment.  Every day is truly an adventure and it's quite often hilarious.  I look forward to writing here and hope folks will enjoy reading our stories.

I guess i never posted this.  It's a bit late, but here it is:

Well, MawMaw and I don't do shit anymore. She doesn't call me in the middle of the night to help with pawpaw anymore. I don't stop to see her after work and have a beer with her and make her a drink and put on the radio anymore. We don't ride to Bradley's country store and buy our weight in pork anymore. And my lady and I certainly don't ride down to the creek anymore to stay the weekend and fish and visit and play phase 10 and grin at each other when she got loose enough to let a fuck slip through her lips, although we do stop by to say hello everytime we go to the beach. And I always get her a pretty shell and save it for the next time. And she probably laughs every time because we always pee in the woods because Sumatra is not as close to the coast as you think it is. But I do know she is gone. And there are no more anymore's. If I thought hard and my lady reminded me, I could maybe tell you the day she left me, but my mind won't let a date settle into clarity. I know it's been over a year. And I know she would be tickled pink to see how big the boy has gotten. I know she'd be over the moon to know that little miss Morgan has another baby, a girl! And that lily is going to have her third and tiny baby Jessie is going to have her first. MawMaw loved her a baby. And I know that she'd be proud of my beard because "I wanted it bad enough so I just grew it" even though she would definitely tell me I needed to trim it.

Top surgery

I finally did it. After more than ten years living as a man and being on hormones for over four of those, I did it. I scheduled a date for top surgery. Technically all this means is that I will now have a flat chest. I will not have breasts any longer. Emotionally it means so much more. It means that I will no longer have to wear a binder and three shirts at all times. It means that even though I have a beard and a deep voice and a wife that calls me her husband and a son that calls me daddy, I will feel that much closer to no longer having to worry about whether people look at me and question my gender. I will feel comfortable wearing a shirt.  A shirt!! Just one! Or not one at all! I will feel comfortable swimming in front of people that are outside of my extended family. I will stand straighter and hopefully have less back problems because I'm not trying to make sure my chest is the least noticeable that it can be. I will finally feel comfortable. And maybe even sexy. I've always dreamt of top surgery. I've even checked out different doctors and done some pre-planning. But it took my brother-in-law prompting me to really set the ball rolling. And of course, my lady has been there supporting my every step. Without her I could have still done all of this but it would have been a long and hard road  and I don't want to think of it without her by my side.

And so with my surgery date set, I look to my pocketbook for the finances that will afford me this wonderful change. Of course it is not yet covered by insurance because it's not a REAL medical issue. That doesn't mean you don't have to have a letter from a shrink to say that you are really and truly suffering from gender dysphoria.  I know that it will be something for which I will pay for a good long while. At someone's prompting, AHEM Marymoon, I created an account at gofundme.com to see if people could give anything at all to help me on this portion of my journey. At her request I'm also linking it here.
You don't know what a weight off my chest this will be. Literally.

http://www.gofundme.com/7hpugc?preview=1

Monday, Monday. Can't trust that day.

So I intended to start this blog to talk about the fun stuff that MawMaw and I do when we hang. And we do lots of fun stuff, we really do. I have always thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with my MawMaw and pawpaw. I learned all sorts of fun things from them. I learned how to shuffle a deck of cards complete with the fancy bridge. I learned how to spot an osprey nest and I learned how to rig a cane pole and I learned how to fish for bream and catfish and clean them. I learned how to have an offbeat sense of humor and I learned how to appreciate the finer things in life, like a family that loves and accepts everyone. Everyone that has learned how to play phase 10 from us, that was mawmaw and pawpaw. But it gets hard to do these things, with all the change that has happened. Very hard. Every time I do one of these things with MawMaw I remember how easy it was before, before they started declining in health. Before they started needing to be checked on every single day. Before the answer to an inquiry of how MawMaw is doing began to always be answered by "I could be better." I know things change, people grow old, our needs become greater as we can do less and less for ourselves. News flash? That shit sucks. I find that constantly throwing myself into the task of making sure MawMaw is ok and happy is wearing me out. And just as it was with pawpaw, I only think of how much she's done for me over my life time and how she really needs me right now and how this can't go on forever like this, I know that for a fact. Oh shit, I don't know where I'm going with this. I'll let it be for now, think about it tomorrow. Right now I've got to shower and change so I can go spend the day with MawMaw.

The weekend

Fuck it y'all, it's Friday!

Calming down

So this is entry number two. The other day's post was one full of fucks and dare I say it? I might have gone fucking overboard. But I was stoked to get started. Today's blog will have less f-bombs.  Maybe.

Now I could go into the whole spiel of Hilda Wynell Jacobs Lunsford was born in blah blah blah year to so&so and so&so but zzzzzz. Sorry, dozed off there for a bit. I'm not saying mawmaw's history isn't fucking important, it's my history too, but what I really wanna share is the awesome shit we are doing together in the present. I will post stories that have only occurred within the span of my life because really, it's my blog and I do what I fucking want.  It's all about me, dummies.

So the other day I stopped by mm's after work as I do most every other fucking day. She was having a rum and coke for the first time in probably a year. It's been so long since she had one that I really can't say. These days she usually has her dessert, as she calls it, which is equal parts 1/2&1/2 and kamora. That's off brand kahlua to you Richie fucking Riches out there that only buy name brand items. And no, I'm not kidding. That is seriously what she fucking drinks. Anyway, we got to talking about how sad she is and how much she misses pawpaw and how something has to change. I told her that she had just hit the nail on the head. Change. Things have got to change. That's one of the reasons that I'm pushing her to do more than just sit at the house. I put on some music and we had a couple of drinks together and after five different versions of "I never will marry" believe it or not, we felt better. So we turned on cal smith's "The Lord knows I'm drinking" and had another beverage. That's one of her all time favorite songs and always makes her talk about when they lived in Monticello. That was a bunch of judgmental sons a bitches, that town, she always tells me. We laughed and said that people should mind their own business, that way they wouldn't be minding ours. And we had a fucking laugh. This is what it looked like, by the way.
Adios amigos.

First post

So I hang out with my grandmother. A lot. Usually it consists of eating and fucking napping and fucking turning off the oxygen so she can smoke. But I've decided we are about to wile the fuck out!! Every Monday we are going to go do something fun. Today is the first Monday funday. Hope y'all enjoy reading this fucking shit.

So Bradley's Country Store is this stupid fucking local shit that everybody loves to talk about. Oh its so quaint!, they say. Oh, look at the fucking sugar cane mill!, they say. Let's sit on the fucking porch and play checkers!, they say. Think Cracker Barrel but for fucking real, only without the fucking Andy Griffith VHS tapes for sale. And no biscuits and gravy. You drive and drive and drive some crazy fucking amount, like 11 miles or some such shit, approximately 40 cigarettes worth of miles and then you arrive at a dilapidated old shack of a fucking place. Do they have wheelchair ramps? Fuck no. Do they have wide aisles so people's walkers can fit down them without threatening to break $8 jars of fig fucking preserves even though I think that only 1/10 of their clientele are under 110 years old? Fuck no. Do they have the best pork products that money can buy? Fuck yeah! The sausage and fucking ham are really what it's all about. And that's why I will always take MawMaw to Bradley's. Well that and she gives me my fucking cut of smoked sausage.  So we load up three pigs worth of fucking meat into the van and head back into town. We are famished like no one's business. We decide on Applebee's, which MawMaw will tell you roughly 100 fucking times that my cousin Morgan when she was little would always call applebeebees. At this point I'm just ready to be some where smoking is not allowed because even though I fucking smoke it in no way compares to the dedication MawMaw shows to the habit. She has something akin to a fat asian child's  daily pack allowance. We order (bacon fucking cheeseburger for me and soup&salad for her) and we discuss life. Do you know how hogs head cheese is made? I fucking do now, which by the way is not really appetizing at all, nor is it really cheese. Why,do you wonder, do they keep it so damn cold in these places?  I guess they just hate old people, MawMaw, and want them to fucking freeze. Do you think we have time for a cigarette? No, we don't have time for a fucking smoke! Dinner arrives thankfully, and we commence to chowing down. This raises our body temp at least three degrees and I don't have to go to the van for a fucking blanket.  Full to the brim on fucking brownie bites which we had for dessert, we ride off into the fucking sunset. Naps were fucking needed and who knows how bad the weather channel  fucking missed being watched for that fucking long.
I wonder what we'll do next fucking week....