<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454</id><updated>2012-02-04T12:53:50.896-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stephanie ...Just Stephanie</title><subtitle type='html'>...a girl with kaleidoscope eyes.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>300</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6610278604558271874</id><published>2012-01-21T18:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T18:56:36.264-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Canadian National Newspaper: Transgender Rights: U.S. confronts Bathroom Issue once again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.agoracosmopolitan.com/news/transgender/2012/01/21/2718.html#.TxterDl1lvE.blogger"&gt;The Canadian National Newspaper: Transgender Rights: U.S. confronts Bathroom Issue once again&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6610278604558271874?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6610278604558271874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6610278604558271874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6610278604558271874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6610278604558271874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2012/01/canadian-national-newspaper-transgender.html' title='The Canadian National Newspaper: Transgender Rights: U.S. confronts Bathroom Issue once again'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4506307821050693394</id><published>2012-01-17T10:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T12:10:53.715-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My first experience with discrimination</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I'm transsexual, but this has nothing to do with that. I was around when there were "coloreds only" or "white only" signs. Seems so archaic now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandfather was full blooded German. He had a temper that required someone else to be with him to keep that temper under control. Likewise his convictions on what he deemed right and wrong were just as intense. He practiced what he preached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He worked doing masonry work, my father with him, and I rode with this day. His long time helper Sterling Samual was the only helper they needed for this job. Sterling was and still is my friend. I was 12, Sterling was about 20. The job was plastering a pool in Helena, Ark, one of the most racially phobic places I ever saw. Oh, did I fail to mention that Sterling is black?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get to the job which was a day only of cleaning up and doing the finishing touches. A little after noon, work done, it was decided that we all would go into town for a late lunch. We go into a nice cafe with maybe 8 people in the 40 chair dining room, sit and wait for the waitress to come take our order. But before she would come all hell breaks loose. A white woman complains,(screaming out of control!) to management that Sterling shouldn't be in this cafe, it was for whites only. My grandfather went ballistic!  "God damnit, Sterling is my helper and he is going to eat with us!" 10 minutes of arguing, the sheriff was called, the argument nearly comes to punches being thrown. Sterling, trying to get my grandfather from going to jail, decides that he will eat in the kitchen. "Sterling is my friend. If he's going to eat in the kitchen so am I".&lt;br /&gt;So here we go, back to the kitchen. When we get there, low and behold, there are 5 black ladies back there doing all the cooking! "How can a crazed white woman eat what a black cook can make but not let a black man eat in the same room?" My first lesson in bigotry.&lt;br /&gt;That was the best, biggest, and most rewarding dinner I've ever eaten. And the lesson learned that day was far and away the most important lesson that has followed me throughout life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Civil rights for ALL people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4506307821050693394?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4506307821050693394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4506307821050693394&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4506307821050693394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4506307821050693394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-first-experience-with-discrimination.html' title='My first experience with discrimination'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2218255004907740896</id><published>2011-11-30T11:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T12:25:59.491-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Molly</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiGEODbu2_Q/TtZ1Ej72uzI/AAAAAAAAATk/vzAYBUEkj3w/s1600/Picture%2B247.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiGEODbu2_Q/TtZ1Ej72uzI/AAAAAAAAATk/vzAYBUEkj3w/s400/Picture%2B247.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680856701200677682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2218255004907740896?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2218255004907740896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2218255004907740896&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2218255004907740896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2218255004907740896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/11/molly.html' title='Molly'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiGEODbu2_Q/TtZ1Ej72uzI/AAAAAAAAATk/vzAYBUEkj3w/s72-c/Picture%2B247.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-894676163015026160</id><published>2011-10-29T17:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T17:21:42.245-05:00</updated><title type='text'>5 Best Reasons for LGBT to Support T</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.bilerico.com/2011/10/5_best_reasons_for_lgbt_to_support_t.php#.Tqx8XYRCVmE.blogger"&gt;5 Best Reasons for LGBT to Support T&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-894676163015026160?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/894676163015026160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=894676163015026160&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/894676163015026160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/894676163015026160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/10/5-best-reasons-for-lgbt-to-support-t.html' title='5 Best Reasons for LGBT to Support T'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1523124551670132057</id><published>2011-10-19T11:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T11:37:10.164-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"There's something about Stephanie"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Seems I been called everything but a white woman over on Elizabeth's, Notes from the T-side. It really means nothing to me, the name calling. It shows how petty she and a few others are sitting on top of their pedestal. She and her small group of 'true women' resort to name calling just as children on a playground do. Disagree with her and she'll call you names too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hurry over and get your chance to enlighten the 'women' and get your share of abuse! Then comment about the 'true girls' on your own blog. Spread the insanity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I'm sure I'll catch hell about this too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1523124551670132057?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1523124551670132057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1523124551670132057&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1523124551670132057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1523124551670132057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/10/theres-something-about-stephanie.html' title='&quot;There&apos;s something about Stephanie&quot;'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8851296104762151673</id><published>2011-10-13T10:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-13T10:47:48.248-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Original Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Thanks to Calie, I now have my original blog, "Stephanie ...The Prequel" back. Take a look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8851296104762151673?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8851296104762151673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8851296104762151673&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8851296104762151673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8851296104762151673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/10/original-blog.html' title='Original Blog'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2499572953711204875</id><published>2011-10-08T20:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T21:08:54.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An old new blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've had to start over on a blog I had a few years ago. When I suffered my severe bout of depression I deleted it and can't find it again. (Thanks Calie for trying to help)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's name is, 'The Prequel', about my early memories of feeling different and then finally realizing I am transsexual. I started it today and will try to post regularly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2499572953711204875?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2499572953711204875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2499572953711204875&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2499572953711204875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2499572953711204875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/10/old-new-blog.html' title='An old new blog'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-319198464730370990</id><published>2011-10-05T12:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T13:09:17.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ho hum humdrum</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have a deep sense of remorse for not writing in this blog like I did before the big depression set in. I would write nearly everyday, mundane things mostly, (like this!) observations at best. When the depression finally lifted I got back on here and tried to write but the words just don't come as they did. Even now after a year of being "better" I still find it hard to find anything that needs to be said here. I've become a housewife who only ventures outside the house on Friday to get groceries or go to the many doctor visits that I have. I'm back to being "full time" but that doesn't mean what it did when I was working. My full time then meant make-up all the time, interacting with hundreds of people, and generally having a bounce in my step and a happy face on my face. Now it's a once a week trip to town. At home, I just don't see a point in sitting here in full face for no reason. Other housewives don't, why should I? I know I should get out more but the trip to town is a 45min. journey and dealing with the only decent car we have means getting up at 5:30am and taking my wife to work, and well, I am NOT a morning person! (excuses) We are slowly getting our bills paid off so we can sell our place and move to town, maybe next spring. My health isn't going to ever be good enough to hold down a job again but maybe a volunteer job would get me out and about. I need that inter-action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this writing (if you can call it that) just seems too mundane (as I said) to be anything I'd like to post but I have to put something here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life IS good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps: I'm on Facebook a lot now. I don't have to hold a thought as long there! lol&lt;br /&gt;Pss: A very few of you might remember a second blog I had here, Stephanie...the Prequel. I stupidly deleted it (about 18 months ago) and now would like to know if and how I can get it back. Probably not, huh! dumb  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-319198464730370990?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/319198464730370990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=319198464730370990&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/319198464730370990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/319198464730370990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/10/ho-hum-humdrum.html' title='Ho hum humdrum'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7741424135857104997</id><published>2011-09-11T13:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T11:00:00.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Steppenwolf Lyrics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Taken from the song Monster/Suicide/America&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...The spirit was freedom and justice&lt;br /&gt;And it's keepers seem generous and kind&lt;br /&gt;It's leaders were suppose to serve the country&lt;br /&gt;But now they won't pay it no mind&lt;br /&gt;'Cause the people grew fat and lazy&lt;br /&gt;And now their vote is a meaningless joke&lt;br /&gt;They babble about law and order&lt;br /&gt;But it's all just an echo of what they've been told&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, there's a monster on the loose&lt;br /&gt;It's got our heads into a noose&lt;br /&gt;And it just sits there watchin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our cities have turned into jungles&lt;br /&gt;And corruption is strangling the land&lt;br /&gt;The police force is watchin' the people&lt;br /&gt;And the people just can't understand&lt;br /&gt;We don't know how to mind our own business&lt;br /&gt;'Cause the whole world has to be just like us&lt;br /&gt;Now we are fighting a war over there&lt;br /&gt;No matter who's the winner&lt;br /&gt;We can't pay the cost&lt;br /&gt;'Cause there's a monster on the loose&lt;br /&gt;It's got our heads into a noose&lt;br /&gt;And it just sit's there watchin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America where are you now?&lt;br /&gt;Don't you care about your sons and daughters?&lt;br /&gt;Don't you know we need you now?&lt;br /&gt;We can't fight alone against the monster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7741424135857104997?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7741424135857104997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7741424135857104997&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7741424135857104997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7741424135857104997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/09/creedence-clearwater-lyrics.html' title='Steppenwolf Lyrics'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5225220489854945501</id><published>2011-08-17T18:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T19:31:37.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the T out of GLBT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;A good idea or bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a lot of T's out there ready to break away from the gay community. They want the T to stand alone since it is about gender and not about sexual preference. I understand their position.&lt;br /&gt;However......................&lt;br /&gt;Both transsexuals and gay people start off in the closet trying to keep everyone from finding out that they are people with a secret. Most gay people try to keep their sexual preference hidden, transsexuals their belief that they are of the wrong body. Most will have a "coming out" experience at some point in their life with similar reactions to their secret. The difference is that when gay people come out they stay out. The "cure" for them is the coming out, the not hiding any more. A transsexuals coming out is just a starting point for finding that balance between body and mind. And, if they are lucky enough to have the financial means, family support, and courage to reach the end of their journey, then some return to a stealth mode where no one knows their past history. They go back into the closet, so to speak. I understand their reasoning, I really do. But until the ranks of transsexuals who stand up with pride and let their stories be told publicly becomes larger, transsexuals better stay connected to the GLB. There simply are not enough transsexuals willing to be put into the spotlight to make their cause effective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just my opinion...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5225220489854945501?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5225220489854945501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5225220489854945501&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5225220489854945501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5225220489854945501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/08/breaking-free-of-glbt.html' title='Taking the T out of GLBT'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5025512407857491116</id><published>2011-08-06T11:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T11:45:07.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jVkg3eSi0lY/Tj1vXhQspZI/AAAAAAAAATA/piedxSVF7e0/s1600/Anoka-Hennepin_SITEX390.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 390px; height: 285px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jVkg3eSi0lY/Tj1vXhQspZI/AAAAAAAAATA/piedxSVF7e0/s400/Anoka-Hennepin_SITEX390.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637784758393808274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;If us adults can't play nice together, then how do we expect our children to play nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5025512407857491116?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5025512407857491116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5025512407857491116&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5025512407857491116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5025512407857491116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/08/if-us-adults-cant-play-nice-together.html' title=''/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jVkg3eSi0lY/Tj1vXhQspZI/AAAAAAAAATA/piedxSVF7e0/s72-c/Anoka-Hennepin_SITEX390.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-217836137750823804</id><published>2011-08-04T10:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T12:22:43.754-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What could go wrong?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xWITxacDiQw/TjrVSA9MBiI/AAAAAAAAAS4/8iF7B266OtY/s1600/6a00d834520aaa69e201348895898f970c-200wi.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xWITxacDiQw/TjrVSA9MBiI/AAAAAAAAAS4/8iF7B266OtY/s200/6a00d834520aaa69e201348895898f970c-200wi.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637052389078599202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Not all transitions go as planned, not that I really had a plan, I live day to day. So on January 3rd, 2006 when I took my first hormone pill, I thought to myself,"let's see what happens". I knew I was transsexual all my life so this finally felt like I was doing something about this situation. Six months into HRT I was a much happier person. That gnawing in me that kept telling me I was female abated somewhat but was still there. My only plan at that time was to keep working as a man (welder) and only tell people I trusted that I was on hormones. Well, you know how that goes sometimes. Tell one and it spreads like wildfire. On the start of my eighth month on HRT I was fired. I was good at what I did but my trans status wasn't accepted. They knew about my cross-dressing but couldn't handle hearing that I was transsexual. I tried to move on looking for work. After two months of being unemployed my daughter who owned a very small janitorial service (four of us) said I could come work for her. I went to work at a airplane parts manufacturing plant. I presented male for about a month until I decided to wear "just a little" make-up. Nobody called me out on it so little by little it got heavier. Earrings, bra, and female clothes were next. Most of the men in the plant didn't talk to me, some snide remarks were heard, but the women were very welcoming. Of course they asked the usual questions. Why? Are you going all the way? Are you gay?What does your wife think about it? I'd give them the "transsexual 101" lesson and tried to educate them as best I could. A lot of us became work friends and a few became close work friends. It wasn't all roses in the workplace though. There were people in upper management who were not liking my being there but I believe they thought they couldn't discriminate against me so they let me be until it was time for my daughter to renew the cleaning contract. They took the bid but made sure another cleaning company got the contract.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 28th 2009 at 5:30am my wife fell off the steps leading into our house and broke her ankle which would take 7 months to heal. On the same day I found out that in a month I'd be out of work. Talk about a bad day! Phew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next six months I spent taking care of my wife and looking for work. "Stephanie" couldn't find work. We lived on $140 dollars a week of unemployment benefits, first mine then hers, and food stamps. By the time she healed enough to go back to work, my nervous system was going haywire. My doctor put me on anti-depressants, but apparently the wrong ones. My depression had me at the door of suicide. If my wife wouldn't have taken the bullets from my gun I would not be here. I sat in my recliner with a blanket pulled up to my chin. Six months later and finally getting the right drugs my depression subsided but "Stephanie" had not been seen in over 8 months. I just did not feel the same as I did before all this happened. It may be the depression or it may be the drugs that have kept me from finding her all this time, but ever so slowly I'm getting back to being myself again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a therapist appointment on Aug. 10th and plan on going as my true self for the first time since all this happened. It's going to be hard to do, but it's time. It certainly won't be as hard as the last two years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just my story, your transition my be smooth sailing throughout. I just want transitioning girls to see that even a flawless transition can abruptly change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-217836137750823804?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/217836137750823804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=217836137750823804&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/217836137750823804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/217836137750823804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-could-go-wrong.html' title='What could go wrong?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xWITxacDiQw/TjrVSA9MBiI/AAAAAAAAAS4/8iF7B266OtY/s72-c/6a00d834520aaa69e201348895898f970c-200wi.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7315018213331768793</id><published>2011-08-03T10:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T10:36:58.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Re: Trans on Trans Bickering</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dK6U8XAwnpU/Tjlq_EzDogI/AAAAAAAAASw/dmkn9RB_uM0/s1600/woman_with_suitcase_walking_away_24bsj0023rf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dK6U8XAwnpU/Tjlq_EzDogI/AAAAAAAAASw/dmkn9RB_uM0/s400/woman_with_suitcase_walking_away_24bsj0023rf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636654040483078658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;To the moderators of T-Central&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was asked to vote on what to do with unruly bloggers, I wondered why I couldn't be the one to censor those blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the latest round of BS that I've read these last few days I've changed my mind. (A girl has that right to do that, doesn't she?lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm one to give everyone a second, third, even a fourth chance to control their belligerent attacks aimed at others here at T-Central. But it seems I've run out of patience and they've run out of chances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since they can't become civilized, respectful people, KICK THEIR BUTT TO THE CURB!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7315018213331768793?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7315018213331768793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7315018213331768793&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7315018213331768793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7315018213331768793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/08/re-trans-on-trans-bickering.html' title='Re: Trans on Trans Bickering'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dK6U8XAwnpU/Tjlq_EzDogI/AAAAAAAAASw/dmkn9RB_uM0/s72-c/woman_with_suitcase_walking_away_24bsj0023rf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8252823829505791071</id><published>2011-07-26T10:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T10:30:49.239-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo, T-Central Poll</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Why can't you leave the site as is and let me do my own censoring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8252823829505791071?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8252823829505791071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8252823829505791071&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8252823829505791071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8252823829505791071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/07/yo-t-central-poll.html' title='Yo, T-Central Poll'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4614259527924663661</id><published>2011-05-14T12:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T12:10:09.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Therapy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I had my monthly therapy session yesterday. This was the second one with the same therapist. Once I feel I know ya, it doesn't take much for me to get to talking about things in my past so I opened up and saw an hour go by at record speed. I'm not sure how much my 30 something year old therapist knows about transsexualism but she knows a lot more now than she used to. If I keep seeing her she'll be an expert soon!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4614259527924663661?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4614259527924663661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4614259527924663661&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4614259527924663661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4614259527924663661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/05/therapy.html' title='Therapy'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-105505589511926362</id><published>2011-04-15T18:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T18:46:20.438-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Note</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ok, So I went to see the therapist today. It was only just a "get to know you visit". We talked mostly about my trip through depression and only touched on me being transsexual a little bit. Enough though that I now have another appointment with the same girl and then one with a psychologist. Since I don't have much faith in therapists of any kind, I'll just follow this along and see where it goes. After all, a little therapy can't hurt......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-105505589511926362?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/105505589511926362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=105505589511926362&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/105505589511926362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/105505589511926362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/04/just-note.html' title='Just a Note'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3460787982099371098</id><published>2011-04-09T16:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T16:45:18.799-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVzYU6H3kfo/TaDSo2-_zsI/AAAAAAAAASk/TMZMdaYWOWs/s1600/Blond%2B003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVzYU6H3kfo/TaDSo2-_zsI/AAAAAAAAASk/TMZMdaYWOWs/s400/Blond%2B003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593702336590499522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMpLVjS1OVk/TaDSojmTPxI/AAAAAAAAASc/heMAgPb21mU/s1600/Blond%2BGlasses%2B001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMpLVjS1OVk/TaDSojmTPxI/AAAAAAAAASc/heMAgPb21mU/s400/Blond%2BGlasses%2B001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593702331386642194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Can you come out of the closet twice?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3460787982099371098?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3460787982099371098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3460787982099371098&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3460787982099371098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3460787982099371098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/04/pictures.html' title='Pictures'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVzYU6H3kfo/TaDSo2-_zsI/AAAAAAAAASk/TMZMdaYWOWs/s72-c/Blond%2B003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4324899640165872262</id><published>2011-04-07T18:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T18:50:54.714-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow-up</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; This is just a follow-up on my last post. I had promised that I'd get my appointment to see a therapist, and I went through with it. I see her on the 15th. I just hope this therapist has some knowledge about transsexuals. I usually find myself being the one to teach them the basics and then get annoyed that they don't know as much as me and I stop seeing them. This should be about the tenth one I've seen. Out of those, one was good. We'll see how this goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... I have a bone density test Tuesday so the doc can better understand what's going on with my back pain. It's a disc but I'll humor them along until they come to that conclusion on their own. Besides, I've lost over 2 inches in height somewhere so maybe that will help find out where it went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4324899640165872262?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4324899640165872262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4324899640165872262&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4324899640165872262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4324899640165872262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/04/follow-up.html' title='Follow-up'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4730176602537476175</id><published>2011-04-05T10:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T11:51:57.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still standing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I haven't written anything since the end of Feb. Writing seems so hard these days. Since I'm a stay at home housewife there isn't much to write about. Add to that the hand full of depression drugs I'm on causing my mind to be a big mushy blob and, well, you get the drift.&lt;br /&gt;Since I wrote last, I've had a follow-up Drs. appointment. All my tests came back alright. Liver, kidneys, heart, cholesterol, everything is running in the normal range. Funny, I don't feel normal. I still haven't made an appointment with therapist yet. I've been putting it off, procrastinating. (I'm real good at that.) This week I'll get one.(I promise!) I've been having problems with my back again. I may have a blown disc, or at least a bulging one. The Dr. put me on a muscle relaxant which means I'm even more zonked than I was. He said we'd go from there then do tests if it didn't do any good. I also went back to sleeping in my bed instead of on the couch. I've been on the couch since the first signs of depression setting in. I didn't want to be in my bedroom because it's an ultra-feminine room with pink everywhere. I just didn't feel "pink" then.&lt;br /&gt;Let's see. We got a different car, one that I feel safe being in. The old Jimmy's front end was about to drop out of it. We still have it but it stays parked. Now it's an emergency car. Living out in the country, you have to keep a spare for those "just in case" times.&lt;br /&gt;And. Somehow we turned our 30 pound lap dog into a 50 pound "mash your lap" dog. He needs a diet just like I do!&lt;br /&gt;Over on Facebook I've connected with some friends from 'way back in the day', school friends. It's good to see that they made it through their crazy, "party 'till you drop" days. Some didn't.&lt;br /&gt;Patty Lou's doing great. She has a page over on Facebook too. Drop by and say Hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4730176602537476175?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4730176602537476175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4730176602537476175&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4730176602537476175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4730176602537476175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-havent-written-anything-since-end-of.html' title='I&apos;m still standing'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8286906280151664806</id><published>2011-02-23T18:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T19:24:22.755-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Paging Doctor Atta</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Since Dr. Atta is the only doctor I could find locally that had an opening for my medicaid, I went to see him today so I could get my prescriptions re-new'd. Actually, I didn't see him. I saw the nurse practitioner Cindy. Everyone gets to see her the first visit so she can get all the paperwork taken care of, medical transcripts forwarded to her from my last clinic, and as much medical information I could give her about me. I made it easy on my "coming out" to her by not wearing a baggy shirt. The girls were right out there! So when she saw I was on hormones and she asked why, telling her I was transgender sort of had an attached addendum that came with it. Boobs! She never missed a beat though. She asked the right questions. Am I going to have surgery, (I would if I could) was I on hormones just for the feminizing effect? (yes) When she went to put my status into the computer, (all electronic records) strangely there wasn't a transgender or transsexual category in the system. She asked me what else it might be under so I told her it was a Gender Identity Disorder. Yep, there it is. It's strange how I have been educating medical professionals about GID throughout the years. I asked if I could up my hormones since I'm on a low dose (2mgs Estrodiol, 50 spiro) and they're going to get back to me after they do some research. I was given a referral to a therapist so as soon as I can get an appointment I'll have my head shrunk. WooPee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it was a prosperous day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8286906280151664806?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8286906280151664806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8286906280151664806&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8286906280151664806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8286906280151664806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/02/paging-doctor-atta.html' title='Paging Doctor Atta'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1878048985150058232</id><published>2011-02-21T15:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T16:33:55.006-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Searching in the Lost and Found</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7doRUXM19Gs/TWLn7cEDeHI/AAAAAAAAARs/MDj1g5XB10c/s1600/Brown%2B005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7doRUXM19Gs/TWLn7cEDeHI/AAAAAAAAARs/MDj1g5XB10c/s320/Brown%2B005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576274296969590898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well, as the picture shows, I tried to "find" myself today. I didn't, it all felt so awkward. Every step of my make-up process felt like I was putting make-up on a face that it just didn't belong on. I can't understand why it felt like that. It used to feel soo right. I haven't tried being 'Stephanie' since the start of '10. I knew that the make-up wouldn't go on easy like it did when I wore it everyday. There were times when I was just a weekend girl that I would go for a few weeks without wearing it. It would take me extra time to get it right, or right in my eyes anyway. Today it never got to that point. I had hope that I wouldn't feel like a 'man in a dress' when I was done, but there it was, that feeling. I hate it. I never felt like that for all the years of being a weekend girl and then 3yrs of being full time. It's just since I fell into the depression and was put on lots of meds. I HAVE to get off of them! Somehow! I have to be the person I was. I wasn't a man, I wasn't a woman either, but I was closer to being a woman with feelings of being a woman than I am now. I do not like where I'm at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an appointment with my new GP doctor Wednesday. This will start me on my medicaid card. since I have it I can afford to see a therapist. It's time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1878048985150058232?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1878048985150058232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1878048985150058232&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1878048985150058232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1878048985150058232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/02/searching-in-lost-and-found.html' title='Searching in the Lost and Found'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7doRUXM19Gs/TWLn7cEDeHI/AAAAAAAAARs/MDj1g5XB10c/s72-c/Brown%2B005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8044750559136833675</id><published>2011-02-16T12:03:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T13:09:50.833-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gibberish</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; I really should write something here. After all, what is a blog without written words? The words in my head just won't blend in harmony. They're just a jumbled mess of quick thoughts. It's probably the meds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My GID is keeping my brain occupied all the time. Since I can't work anymore, I have too much time to think about it. I need a hobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to see if it would help if I did my make-up, put on a bra and wig, and ......that's just it. Sit here? I don't see the point of it. Plus, I remember how I felt when I took it all off before '06 when I was a weekend girl. One of the reasons I went full time was to avoid that dual life. Now, me having to wear the wig will necessitate that. Girl on, boy off. If I could just work that out in my head I'd feel much better. Well, maybe. Now if I could get up the gumption to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so I've written something. Gibberish....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8044750559136833675?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8044750559136833675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8044750559136833675&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8044750559136833675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8044750559136833675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/02/gibberish.html' title='Gibberish'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7712756356277756097</id><published>2011-02-07T11:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T18:28:29.137-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Public Service Announcement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You can also find me on Facebook now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7712756356277756097?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7712756356277756097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7712756356277756097&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7712756356277756097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7712756356277756097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/02/public-service-announcement.html' title='Public Service Announcement'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1471550315678889662</id><published>2011-02-04T10:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T10:25:11.355-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowing, Again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well, wouldn't you know it? Friday is the only day I leave the house and I get up to find snow piling up. We're suppose to get about 3 inches, not a whole lot, but enough to stop me from making a 25 mile trip to town. Today was my doctors appointment. That's been canceled and re-scheduled for the 23rd. Maybe it will be a nice day then. We've had more than our fair share of snow this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1471550315678889662?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1471550315678889662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1471550315678889662&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1471550315678889662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1471550315678889662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/02/snowing-again.html' title='Snowing, Again!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4158358573114959374</id><published>2011-01-22T11:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T12:32:07.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My health care system</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;According to the state of Arkansas it's official. I'm disabled. When I found out that my problems with my hands wasn't treatable (severe lose of grip) I filed paperwork for disability. About 4 months later it has been approved. Along with a small check every month, I've been put on medicaid to cover my health bills. Since I'm on medicaid I had to find a new doctor/clinic because the free clinic I went to won't see you if you are on any type of insurance including medicaid. I really hate having to leave from there, it has been the best care I've ever had. Our health system should take note of these clinics and integrate the good they do for so little money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get this list of doctors (about 100) from the Department of Human Services, a list of doctors who will take medicaid as payment, and I start calling to see if there are any slots they have available. One doctor will see me. One!!!, and he ONLY accepts medicaid patients. I'm wondering how good of a doctor he is. Medicaid is notorious for paying less for services than most doctors charge. Why would this doctor only take medicaid patients when he could make more money seeing insurance and cash paying patients also? I guess I'll find out Feb.4th when I see him to get my med prescriptions renewed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4158358573114959374?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4158358573114959374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4158358573114959374&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4158358573114959374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4158358573114959374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-health-care-system.html' title='My health care system'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4484134793321413381</id><published>2011-01-20T18:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T18:54:21.627-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fool</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Don't ya just hate it when you've been reading someone's blog for a long time and it dawns on you that who and what you've been reading about is all FAKE! I've been fooled for almost two years now, and I bet you have been too. Don't ask me who, I won't tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me feel soooo stupid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4484134793321413381?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4484134793321413381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4484134793321413381&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4484134793321413381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4484134793321413381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/fool.html' title='The Fool'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6596746844831196311</id><published>2011-01-15T15:19:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T16:29:02.600-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wednesday was Patty Lou's clinic appointment. She has one about every three months for a check-up and to get her prescriptions renewed. Since we still had ice and snow on the roadways, I drove her to work and picked her up for her after work appointment. I knew it would take awhile so I sat in the car waiting for her. I'd rather be there than in the noisy clinic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clinic sits on property that had two beautiful old homes on it. Probably built in the early 1900's, you could tell that someone with money had them built by the style they were built in. They were huge, and all you had to do was walk in the door and see the grandiose staircase's leading to the second floors and you knew that someone of class lived there when built. Although they had been vacant for many years, it was a shame that they were destroyed in the early '70's for the clinic to be built.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parking lot for the clinic had two houses that were torn down for it to be made also. One was a duplex, the other was a single family home. They were not like the other two. They were just plain homes, homes built about the same time but built for someone on a workman's wage. Functional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in the parking lot remembering days long past. The neighborhood kids and I searching through the rooms of the big houses. Skateboarding on the sidewalks, playing baseball on the too crowded narrow street. I remember this because the sign for the clinic shows the address being "133 Arbor St." When I was 11 years old (1965) I lived at 137 Arbor St., the address of one of the houses. When I was 12 years old (1966) I lived at 133 Arbor St. The address of the other torn down. I never got to live in one of the big houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. And I also remembered putting on an old ball type gown (black and shimmery gold) I had found in one of the big houses and showing the neighborhood kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were the days....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6596746844831196311?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6596746844831196311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6596746844831196311&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6596746844831196311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6596746844831196311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/reflections.html' title='Reflections'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5390446420386391129</id><published>2011-01-10T09:38:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T09:47:17.739-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TSspXFG4oaI/AAAAAAAAARg/B-tE9xcf8sw/s1600/Picture%2B217.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TSspXFG4oaI/AAAAAAAAARg/B-tE9xcf8sw/s200/Picture%2B217.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560583641403793826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Here's my winter wonderland. The weatherman said we would get four inches but we have 6 inches this morning. Par for the weather man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please overlook the junk car. Of course it's mandatory that every house in Arkansas has to have at least one in the yard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5390446420386391129?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5390446420386391129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5390446420386391129&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5390446420386391129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5390446420386391129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/snow-2.html' title='Snow #2'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TSspXFG4oaI/AAAAAAAAARg/B-tE9xcf8sw/s72-c/Picture%2B217.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-658516177053127259</id><published>2011-01-09T13:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T13:22:53.755-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The news here is that it has started snowing. I know, it's not much news for you who have already been shoveling snow, but we only get measurable amounts maybe once each winter and then only an inch or two. We're suppose to get about four inches between now and Monday morning. Patty Lou is just a big kid at heart so she's all giggly thinking she won't have to work tomorrow. Just a little snow shuts down everything around here. Me, I could care less on whether it snows or not, I have no place I need to be. Just as long as the power stays on I won't complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll see if I can get a good picture of it when it quits tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-658516177053127259?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/658516177053127259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=658516177053127259&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/658516177053127259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/658516177053127259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/snow.html' title='Snow'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1136588222439675371</id><published>2011-01-05T12:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T12:32:40.214-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Balance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TSS44u1X4FI/AAAAAAAAARY/ulglZqCHGMA/s1600/balance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TSS44u1X4FI/AAAAAAAAARY/ulglZqCHGMA/s400/balance.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558771124866113618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Before she went to work this morning, Patty Lou left a note for me to unload the dish drainer. Which one do I move that won't have the others land on my toes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1136588222439675371?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1136588222439675371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1136588222439675371&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1136588222439675371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1136588222439675371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/balance.html' title='Balance'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TSS44u1X4FI/AAAAAAAAARY/ulglZqCHGMA/s72-c/balance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7173526652658975230</id><published>2011-01-03T11:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T13:37:19.483-06:00</updated><title type='text'>'06-'11</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;January 3, 2006. It's been 5 years to the day since I went on HRT, except for about 6 months last year when I was in my severe depression stage. There were also a couple of times when I'd ran out due to shipping problems. (InHousePharmacy, in the U.S. we can't get drugs over the internet without a 'script anymore) In my attempt to transition, getting on HRT was easy.(first internet, now by prescription) Going full-time was an easy thing to do.(3 years) Due to the depression, de-transitioning was really hard to do. And now, taking that first step to get back to where I was seems impossible. I used to tell people to "just do it".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I listen to my own advice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7173526652658975230?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7173526652658975230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7173526652658975230&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7173526652658975230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7173526652658975230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/january-3-2006.html' title='&apos;06-&apos;11'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8337855965102310176</id><published>2011-01-01T16:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T17:23:15.435-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Usually I don't make New Years resolutions because it's too easy to break them. Unrealistic goals, lack of willpower, whatever the reason, they get broken soon after making them. It's said that most resolutions are broken within the first two weeks of making them. That would be true for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year will be different.(I hear ya! Oh ye of little faith!) This year will be different because my only resolution is, "Have a better year than last year"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people make that same statement. If they've had a good year they make it in hopes that the next year will be even better. Their chances aren't as good as those who've had a bad year. Two good years in a row I'd say is about a 50/50 chance in happening. The worse year you have the chances greatly improve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've just had the worst year of my life. Mild depression, followed by severe depression causing me to de-transition. A trial and error period with three different groups of drug therapy. Finally one brought me out of the severe depression but has left me sad all the time. I'm still trying to find "Stephanie", lost somewhere along the way. If you see her send her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A better year?  I'm not certain of one, but the chances are good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8337855965102310176?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8337855965102310176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8337855965102310176&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8337855965102310176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8337855965102310176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2011/01/resolution.html' title='Resolution'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-491927100582938408</id><published>2010-12-29T19:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T19:43:37.214-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TRvjpeBxb2I/AAAAAAAAARQ/ksMnVV2Ufjw/s1600/Happy%2BNew%2BYear%2521.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TRvjpeBxb2I/AAAAAAAAARQ/ksMnVV2Ufjw/s400/Happy%2BNew%2BYear%2521.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556284866866278242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-491927100582938408?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/491927100582938408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=491927100582938408&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/491927100582938408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/491927100582938408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-new-year.html' title=''/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TRvjpeBxb2I/AAAAAAAAARQ/ksMnVV2Ufjw/s72-c/Happy%2BNew%2BYear%2521.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7512190115355462034</id><published>2010-12-21T11:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T11:54:29.895-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TRDor_4IAJI/AAAAAAAAARE/g95fDKDBsu4/s1600/charlie-brown-christmas-tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TRDor_4IAJI/AAAAAAAAARE/g95fDKDBsu4/s200/charlie-brown-christmas-tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553194183126679698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Christmas is not my favorite time of year. During those early years of my life when Christmas only meant a time to receive toys, I was always disappointed. We were among the poorest of families and there was never a time that there was a great bulk of toys under the tree for us kids. And then what I did get was something a boy would get, a truck, a tractor. The Christmas that stays in my mind the most is the one where I got almost nothing. The one when I was about seven or eight when I got a rubber ball from my parents and a coloring book and fruit from the church. That one seems to have sucked all of the good feelings out of every Christmas after. At least I don't remember anything about the ones that followed. I wish I knew why I can only remember the worst one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now Christmas is about who can sell you the most stuff... Sale, sale, sale!&lt;br /&gt;It all just sucks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So forgive me if I say I'd rather Christmas not even come. I guess I'm the epitome of Scrooge himself.....Bah-Humbug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7512190115355462034?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7512190115355462034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7512190115355462034&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7512190115355462034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7512190115355462034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TRDor_4IAJI/AAAAAAAAARE/g95fDKDBsu4/s72-c/charlie-brown-christmas-tree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5791773468364712975</id><published>2010-11-24T11:31:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T12:01:15.518-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Absurd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TO1SNd5GXvI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/WS7s01PekCg/s1600/thanksgiving.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TO1SNd5GXvI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/WS7s01PekCg/s320/thanksgiving.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543177107678846706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TO1RHbazpAI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/PMafvqhtPM0/s1600/thanksgiving.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Airport security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a report yesterday that said&lt;br /&gt;for every 1 million people that either&lt;br /&gt;go through a scanner or go through&lt;br /&gt;the pat down process at the major airports&lt;br /&gt;there are only 700 complaints. 700!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The media has blown this all out of proportion.&lt;br /&gt;As for the 700, ...let them take the bus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile...Have a happy Thanksgiving!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5791773468364712975?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5791773468364712975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5791773468364712975&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5791773468364712975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5791773468364712975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/11/absurd.html' title='Absurd'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/TO1SNd5GXvI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/WS7s01PekCg/s72-c/thanksgiving.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2261109670241383630</id><published>2010-10-27T18:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T19:06:00.557-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just So You Know</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So today I finally got up on the roof and fixed the leak that had appeared between the add on part of my house and the main part. It's only been leaking for about 10 months, but since I'm on all kinds of drugs to control my depression, I haven't wanted to get up there for fear of falling off. I've gotten used to them so I went up there and fixed it. No problems.&lt;br /&gt;But.....Isn't there always a but!&lt;br /&gt;My carports were in need of being swept off so I crossed over the peek of the house with the broom in my hand. I was struggling to maintain my balance by the time I got to the bottom of the house part and needed to put my left foot down to keep upright. The problem is when I did this I put it right through the fiberglass panels of my skylight and went crashing down through to the ground below, about a 12' drop. OUCH!...I landed on an ice chest with my left shoulder, which is skinned raw and hurts like hell. After that I bounced off the chest and landed on the back of my head. (good thing it's hard!) Patty Lou came around from the side of the house, saw me laying there and thought I was dead! Not quite, but OUCH again! It doesn't help either that I've gained almost 40 pounds since I've been on these drugs.&lt;br /&gt;So, just so you know, transsexuals may be a bit different from your "normal" run of the mill people, but we can't fly and we still bounce the same as everyone else!&lt;br /&gt;Just so you know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2261109670241383630?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2261109670241383630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2261109670241383630&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2261109670241383630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2261109670241383630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/10/just-so-you-know.html' title='Just So You Know'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1163595984314085229</id><published>2010-10-20T18:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T19:50:51.114-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hirayama Disease</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Over the past 15 or so years, my hands have become weaker and weaker. The sensitivity in my fingers has deteriorated until simple things like opening and closing resealable bags, holding on to a pencil, toilet paper, has become harder and harder to accomplish. The use of hand tools and picking up and holding on to heavy things is getting to nearly impossible to do. Each time I would bring this up to my many doctors that I have seen, they would say that it was arthritis and prescribe an over the counter drug of some kind.&lt;br /&gt; I now have the best doctor that anyone could ever have. Not only does she listen to what you are telling her, she is not afraid to order tests to find the cause of your problems. She is the one that brought me out of my severe depression when two other doctors couldn't. She has also prescribed my hormones when no one else would, understanding my need for them. She's been great!&lt;br /&gt;  About my hands , she had me first go to the hospital here in Hot Springs to get an EMG (electromyography/nerve conduction study) where they put electrodes on your fingers and then zap your nerves in your arms with electricity to see how much damage has been done. Then after the zapping, they stick a needle in your muscles and record the electrical impulses in them. (You really, REALLY! don't want to have one of these done!) It takes about two hours to get to ALL the places they do. OUCH!&lt;br /&gt;  When the results came back, like she thought, my problems would gradually get worse over the years. Not being content to just give up, she sent me to the University of Arkansas Medical Center to have a more intense test done along with an MRI to see if anything could be done to help me. I was zapped from head to toe, stuck from head to toe again, and then taken to get the MRI. That didn't work out so good, seems I'm very much claustrophobic! In fifteen seconds I was screaming to get me out of that blasted machine! So now I've been prescribed a super strong Valium to take when I get my next appointment. It better knock me out or I'll come apart again!&lt;br /&gt;  So, they've diagnosed me with having Hirayama's disease. Supposedly they can tell for sure after they do the MRI on my neck. It will be nice to finally know for sure what's wrong. &lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, that's what's been happening to me the past month. I have yet to put on my make-up or clothes to go back to being Stephanie. Maybe soon. Maybe not.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs,&lt;br /&gt;Steph..........  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1163595984314085229?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1163595984314085229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1163595984314085229&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1163595984314085229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1163595984314085229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/10/hirayama-disease.html' title='Hirayama Disease'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8981873936610120358</id><published>2010-10-03T19:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T19:46:38.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it over?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;During my 30+ years of being a weekend girl I could always see the potential of what I could be if I only did a little "fixing" of my looks. Nothing major, just a few tweaks. When I went full time living female for 3 years I felt that I still had time to look like what I could only say as more feminine. I still saw the potential there. Now that I've gone back to living as a male for the last 9 months all I've seen is this ugly, old face staring at me in the mirror. I can not see any potential of anything even remotely feminine looking back at me. I don't know why, I used to see it even when I didn't have my make-up on. But it's gone. I desperately want to get back to being myself, Stephanie, because I know that I will never be happy again unless I return to presenting as female. It is not like I'll ever be able to be complete, but that's alright, I just need people to see me as female. It confirms what is in my head. My brain is female.&lt;br /&gt;  Now you would think that someone who always lived by the rule of "just do it" would be able to sit down at the mirror, put on their make-up, change clothes into something more feminine, and see how they feel about themselves. It's not that easy. I have a fear of the what if. What if I do that and then I see looking back at me the face of a man wearing make-up? The "man in a dress" thing. Seeing that will mean the end of "Stephanie". I don't think I could survive that, so maybe it is better if I don't even try. But still my GID remains. I feel like I've turned down a one way street that has a sign saying "dead end". What to do, What to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie                  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8981873936610120358?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8981873936610120358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8981873936610120358&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8981873936610120358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8981873936610120358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/10/is-it-over.html' title='Is it over?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4131965892896606843</id><published>2010-09-26T00:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T01:13:05.861-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An attempt to write</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Here it is 12:30am and even after taking my sleep meds 2 hours ago I'm still awake. I'm back to sleeping only 3 or 4 hours a night again. But if they up my meds I'll have a pill hangover in the mornings that I don't like, so, what's a girl to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday (Sat) was Patty Lou's birthday. Her friends from work took her out to eat lunch and then me and her went to her favorite place for dinner. We went there a lot when I was "full time" and the wait staff only knew me as Stephanie. I kept praying that nobody that knew me would see me in my drab self but of course that didn't work out. It went fine 'til we were ready to leave and then a waitress came up behind me and said "Hi, I haven't seen you in awhile."  I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. This back to drab presentation is so hard to do. And really the only thing that is keeping me from being full time again is my hair. During my severe depression last winter my hair became even thinner than it was. Now I absolutely have to wear a wig. I hate that. And yes I know there are many women that have to wear wigs, and it looks like I'm going to be one of them. It is just getting my mind to accept  that  realization that's holding me back. Both my dr. and Patty Lou are encouraging me to do so, so I'm going to try and get back to "normal" soon. I'd better. This de-transitioning thing is not going to work for me. I see that. After 3yrs. of being full time you can't go back. Your a changed person. The cork is off the bottle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4131965892896606843?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4131965892896606843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4131965892896606843&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4131965892896606843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4131965892896606843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/09/attempt-to-write.html' title='An attempt to write'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-523390351939451772</id><published>2010-08-22T15:30:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T19:36:13.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mercy, Mercy, Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;In my 5 years of browsing transsexual web sites, I can't remember ever seeing a site that was about a m/f transsexual that had lived as her real self for a period of time and then had to return to her old life. Christine Daniels/Mike Penner is the only one that comes to mind and her/his life story does not represent mine in any way. I feel I'm alone again in this world and would like to find someone to talk with. After 3 years of being my true self I found that in going back my GID is ten times worse than it ever was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt; Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-523390351939451772?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/523390351939451772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=523390351939451772&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/523390351939451772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/523390351939451772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/08/mercy-mercy-me.html' title='Mercy, Mercy, Me'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5972028907966354222</id><published>2010-07-29T18:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T19:27:58.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The different faces of hell.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;December 4th, '09 was my last post I wrote. I stopped writing because I didn't want the depression that I was feeling to turn this blog into a boo who, woe is me type of think. At the time my feeling down was just that. Feeling a little down, sad all the time. I found out I knew nothing about depression. As the days turned into weeks, weeks turning into months, my depression became so severe that it took over my life. I sat most of the time with eyes closed, quiet trying to block out any kind of stimulation that was going on around me. My nervous system was at its peek. Other than seeing my doctor, I was housebound going nowhere. In the next 6 months I went through 3 different doctors and 3 assortments of medications. Nothing was helping me. More than once during this time I pleaded to my wife to let me go and end my life so I could end the torment I was going through. Of course she would see none of that. Finally I was passed off to a doctor that knew what she was doing and put me on meds that helped me to regain some sanity. I'm still not working, but I am able to take care of the house , go shopping, doing everyday things. But this sanity came with a big price. When I started on the first round of medications, 'Stephanie' got lost somewhere. The meds did it, the depression did it, I don't know which, but that feeling of being female is not as strong as it was. I still cringe when I see myself in the mirror. When I see other females I still long to be one. It's just a different type of feeling. I don't like it, but I don't know how to get back to where I was. I'm hopeful that I'll be able to stop my meds and that I'll be back the way I was. I understand now how having to go back to being male causes some to take their life. It is much harder going back than it ever was going forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't be posting much, my days are all the same. I have started reading your blogs again. Sometimes that is hard to do. Thanks for listening to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs...&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5972028907966354222?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5972028907966354222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5972028907966354222&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5972028907966354222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5972028907966354222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2010/07/different-faces-of-hell.html' title='The different faces of hell.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-242780953408521867</id><published>2009-12-04T15:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T15:55:35.567-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Absence makes the heart grow fonder?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Well, if that's true, y'all should really love me! I've been away from here for 22days now, a new record. I've been away trying to get my will to survive back to surviving. What I'm doing doesn't seem to be working very well, I'm depressed as ever. Falling apart is much easier to do than building back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patty Lou's doctor visit was Wednesday. I drove the 2 hundred mile round trip in a cold driving rain. Truckers were passing me at 70 mph like I was standing still. By the time I got home I was a bundle of frayed nerves. The doctor told her she could put a shoe on her foot and start walking again. She's trying, but after having a cast on it for 14 weeks, and then a stiff boot on it for 6 weeks, it doesn't want to function very well. She's due to go back to work in 9 days so she's pushing it hard. I hate seeing the pain on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Patty Lou's OK, I'm OK, and the dog is doing great. I'm going to try and be here a little more often and catch up on all your blogs. Bye for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-242780953408521867?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/242780953408521867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=242780953408521867&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/242780953408521867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/242780953408521867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/12/absence-makes-heart-grow-fonder.html' title='Absence makes the heart grow fonder?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6394540884388609776</id><published>2009-11-19T09:06:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T09:59:54.052-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's been eight days since I've posted anything, a new record for me. I don't think I let my blog slide like this even when my computer was down. I have nothing to say that is of any value, not that that kept me from writing before. My days are all the same lately, boring, do nothing but watch TV days. I've seen countless numbers of commercials that keep reminding me that Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming up. Commercials telling me that to be happy I need to spend large sums of money of which I don't have. It all makes a girl want to say "bah humbug" and be done with the whole thing. I never did like the holidays anyway, now depressed it's even worse. I have seen one commercial that made me laugh though. It's for the pistachio growers association. Remember Levy Johnston, Bristol Palin's (Sarah's daughter) babies daddy? The commercial shows him with a muscle bound guy and the voice over says, "Levy Johnston does it with protection" as he cracks a nut and eats it. Bet he wishes he'd had some protection when he got his nut with Bristol! lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patty Lou's ankle gave us a scare Monday. Her foot and half of her leg swelled up and turned an ugly shade of purple. She called the doctor and was told to elevate it , which helped. By Tuesday it looked almost like a normal foot again. We don't know what caused it, she'd not been on it much. I guess she's just pushing it too hard trying to get back to work. I'll sure be glad when this is all done. It's really getting to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No news on the work front. Patty Lou even said how dead it looked in town yesterday morning at a time when it should have been busy. This is a tourist town with no tourists. Bad, very bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I just wanted to check in. Not to worry, my world hasn't come to an end and I've not been captured by aliens as depicted in movies and TV! lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6394540884388609776?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6394540884388609776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6394540884388609776&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6394540884388609776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6394540884388609776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-been-eight-days-since-ive-posted.html' title='Rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5660538652542551139</id><published>2009-11-11T15:02:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T16:18:01.605-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It ain't easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;About this time of year three years ago, I went from being a weekend girl to full time. Actually all I really did was start wearing make-up all the time and started wearing jeans and tee's with a more feminine flair to them. I was a bit nervous at first, but when everyone treated me nice with only a slight discord among them, my confidence soared and the butterflies in my stomach went away. I wrote about it in my old Y360 blog, everyone praised me and said how brave I was for being my true self. It really didn't take much courage to do something that I felt (and still feel) was a natural thing, something that I should have been able to do from birth. There are things that take much more courage to do than to "come out" or be "full time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For weeks now I've known that it is highly unlikely that I will find a job and remain a full time girl. People in this area are not as liberated as they are in other parts of this country and abroad. They may have seen a changing world on television but they do not embrace it's change here. People tell me that it shouldn't matter how I dress as long as it is within standards and I can do the job. But when you ask someone for a job you get a different attitude entirely. It would be OK just as long as it was somewhere else. I guess they fear repercussions. I do understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday my truck quit on me and I had to have a friend (my only friend from pre-transition) tow it home for me. Luckily he has a car dolly. Of course that sent my depression into a spin. I know that with us living 23 miles from town and having only one poor vehicle that could quit on us at anytime, it is imperative that I get work immediately. Bills are overdue, we are in deep trouble. So, last night I made up my mind that I was going job hunting this morning as "Steven". I'd take off the make-up and nail polish. I'd wear jeans and a shirt that was as "male" as I have, and hope that my breasts didn't give away too much information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......I am not a brave person. .....I have no courage.&lt;br /&gt;This morning came and I couldn't do it. If you think that it is hard to come out to your family and friends or go full time, try going back after three years of being your true self. I still don't know what me a Patty Lou are going to do, but I can't go back.....and I feel sooo bad about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5660538652542551139?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5660538652542551139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5660538652542551139&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5660538652542551139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5660538652542551139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-aint-easy.html' title='It ain&apos;t easy'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7413443856654303536</id><published>2009-11-07T09:20:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T10:22:50.916-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bits of life, such as it is.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The new higher dose of my anti-depression drug is not working for me. The depression isn't quite as bad, but now I have no feelings at all. My ambition to do anything, anything at all, has left me too. I sit like a zombie planted in front of the television. Even sitting here checking out how you, "the girls", are doing hasn't been interesting me, and that's way different from me being my normal self. I'm quite the curious type. (OK, I'm a nosey person!) My writing has dwindled to a trickle, not that I have anything to say, but that never stopped me before. Commenting on your posts has all but stopped too, and I'm very sorry for that. I just can't hold a thought long enough to form an opinion about anything. I have an appointment with my therapist in 9 days and I hope I can get through to her the importance of my HRT and my need to at least cut way back on this dose of Invega or stop it all together. I feel that if I can get back to my full dose of HRT, I wouldn't be needing an anti-depressant, and especially this one that's prescribed for bi-polar patients. Why she thought I needed that I don't know. I'm believing like some of you that I'm being used as a guinea pig being used for research. Well, it's time for the experiment to be over, I need my emotions back, even if some of them are bad. Not feeling is just as bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a better note, Patty Lou is pushing herself pretty hard to get back to walking again. She tells me that there's just a lot of stiffness to her ankle and very little pain, but I know she's pushing herself so she can get back to work. She's the one that deals with the bills and she knows how deep of a hole we are in. My job search continues. Putting applications in gives me less and less hope that I'll get a job as Stephanie, I see the look in their eyes. ..."YOU want a job, like that?" ...It gets very discouraging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't watch much football, but my Arkansas Razorbacks may have a chance to beat South Carolina so I'll be watching that this morning. Pre-game is coming up soon. Bye for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7413443856654303536?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7413443856654303536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7413443856654303536&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7413443856654303536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7413443856654303536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/11/bits-of-life-such-as-it-is.html' title='Bits of life, such as it is.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7027922129564723177</id><published>2009-11-05T19:09:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T19:41:30.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Patty Lou's mobile, almost</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; After fourteen weeks of having the blasted thing on her ankle, Patty Lou finally got the cast taken off and to stay off. Wednesday was our trip to Little Rock and she was trying to be calm about going, not wanting to get her hopes up, but I could tell she was in a nervous excitement. She just knew she would get a walking boot and couldn't wait to be able to walk again. She had it in her mind that with the boot she'd be up and going. For any of you who have had a broken foot/ankle/leg you know that isn't so. I've been telling her that her ankle would hurt like hell when she did get on it, but that seemed to go in one ear and out the other. She knows better now. Still, she's pushing herself to limp along with the help of her walker and I'm sure she'll be headed back to work in record time. Yeah! I love the woman, but 24 hrs. a day for 3 &amp;amp; 1/2 months and I'm ready to kiss her good bye for at least her 8 hrs gone for work! ...Oh, truth be told, we probably got along better than most spouses would being together like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing going on with me. I've put in a few more applications but haven't heard anything back. I envision the person taking my app laughing as they make a paper airplane out of it and flying it into the trash can. If they are, I'm happy I made them laugh. Hey, maybe I could join the circus and be a clown! Everybody loves a clown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7027922129564723177?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7027922129564723177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7027922129564723177&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7027922129564723177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7027922129564723177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/11/patty-lous-mobile-almost.html' title='Patty Lou&apos;s mobile, almost'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3483360959977404091</id><published>2009-11-01T10:06:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T10:42:46.958-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Costumed confusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Since I've been in the gray funk of depression for some time now, I should have stayed home and played on this computer. Instead, I went out to the bar to see all the ghouls and goblins. Patty Lou was almost pushing me out of the house to get me to go, telling me I need to get out. I guess she's getting tired of seeing me down and is trying to fix me. A job would fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I sat at the bar watching people having fun. Every now and then someone would come by and chat a few minutes, most asking where my costume was or how come I didn't get dressed up. I've always had a hard time with Halloween costumes, always wanting something with a WOW, sexy look to it, and then when dressed, it fizzled in my eyes. I've gone sans costume more than dressed up. Oh, I'd dress as a girl, but my usual girl stuff. I did the same last night. Jeans and a pink hoodie. After being asked where my costume was, I couldn't help but wonder if what I wear daily isn't just a costume that I hide behind. That thought will take more soul searching than I have patience for right now. ...I guess I could wash ALL the make-up off and ask myself that question again. Trouble is, I don't like seeing myself like that, and I certainly don't like presenting myself like that. That's just not right though. I should be able to see myself as female without all the crutches. ..........It's all too much to think about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3483360959977404091?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3483360959977404091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3483360959977404091&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3483360959977404091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3483360959977404091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/11/costumed-confusion.html' title='Costumed confusion'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7324241661763338179</id><published>2009-10-27T22:29:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T23:36:51.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cowboy up!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We are not cowboy type of people, so I don't know what the attraction is that she finds in them, but Patty Lou just loves watching cowboys riding bulls. She doesn't like any other rodeo competition, just bull riding. It couldn't be that the cowboys are big macho kind of guys, most bull riders are small. (low center of gravity) And she's not rooting for the bulls, which she can tell you the names of the best bulls as well as the cowboys too. I don't have a clue as to what she sees in them. I just don't understand that girl sometimes. I've found that there are times it's best not to try. I mean, it isn't like it's NASCAR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And people think I'm strange!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7324241661763338179?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7324241661763338179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7324241661763338179&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7324241661763338179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7324241661763338179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/cowboy-up.html' title='Cowboy up!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5758051950672220282</id><published>2009-10-25T22:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T22:55:02.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clicking the delete button</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Well, I tried writing tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started writing a post about hating my mailbox because all I get are bills and junk mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I wrote one telling about how when I was a kid I'd hide in a dark, quiet place and withdraw into myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I tried asking the question, "When you leave manhood, what will you take with you from your male days when you change to female?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was deleted because I couldn't hold a thought long enough to get any real content to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would not believe how much it pisses me off that my mind is not functioning right! Arrrrgggghhhh!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5758051950672220282?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5758051950672220282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5758051950672220282&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5758051950672220282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5758051950672220282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/clicking-delete-button.html' title='Clicking the delete button'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3195610181105095818</id><published>2009-10-23T23:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T23:37:03.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>faux pas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I took the dog to the groomers today. He has hair in his ears that has to be removed periodically otherwise it tickles him and he scratches until he has his ears raw. This was the first time I used this groomer so I had to give the girl all of the pertinent information, name, what kind of dog he is, my name. When she asked me my name, without thinking I said, "Steven Flettshock." As soon as it came out I wanted to snatch it out of mid air and say "Stephanie", but the dirty deed was already done. Jees ...How can I expect anyone to get it right if I can't even get it right? I need a good butt kickin'!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stephanie"!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3195610181105095818?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3195610181105095818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3195610181105095818&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3195610181105095818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3195610181105095818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/faux-pas.html' title='faux pas'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-79553031155333290</id><published>2009-10-22T19:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T19:32:16.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The biggest lap dog you ever saw!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SuD5DmWQcxI/AAAAAAAAAQA/QN1W2ou0V3o/s1600-h/Picture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SuD5DmWQcxI/AAAAAAAAAQA/QN1W2ou0V3o/s320/Picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395586193818678034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This critter, Nate, is suppose to be Patty Lou's dog. I got him for her for company when I was working evenings, but somehow he's become my dog. Oh, he still jumps up in her lap both mornings and evenings so she can brush his hair out, but other than that he's taken up with me, under my feet all the time or in my lap. Usually he's a great friend to have, but......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture was taken Wednesday when he wanted to be outside most of the sunny day. Today it rained almost all day and he didn't want to go out, not even when he had to pee so bad he was hurting. So about a half-a-dozen times he'd come to me whining that he wanted out and we'd go out in the rain get soaking wet only to come back in after not peeing. Needless to say, this stressed girl was ready to just leave him out in the rain until he did his duty, Patty Lou telling me I couldn't do that. Well, it finally stopped raining around 3pm, so he took his morning pee then. Ahhhh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the troubles I've had lately, he's a great friend to have around. A hug is always appreciated by him and it helps to relieve my stress. I think I need to put him on a diet though. A 35 pound lap dog jumping on you is painful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-79553031155333290?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/79553031155333290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=79553031155333290&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/79553031155333290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/79553031155333290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/biggest-lap-dog-you-ever-saw.html' title='The biggest lap dog you ever saw!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SuD5DmWQcxI/AAAAAAAAAQA/QN1W2ou0V3o/s72-c/Picture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1781993853773630627</id><published>2009-10-21T22:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T23:22:20.064-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress relieved, stress received</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The visit to the lawyer this morning eased some tension. As long as we make the payments on time we won't get into any more trouble. We found out Patty Lou's employer hadn't been making the payments on time like she was suppose to, so now the bankruptcy trustee will turn to us to see that they are. That's a good thing 'cause we always make our payments on time. The first payment doesn't have to be paid until the 27th of Dec. so we have a little time to get Patty Lou or me back to work. Getting all of this told to us by our lawyer gave us some comfort. Maybe I'll sleep better tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw my therapist this evening. I realize now that this woman has told me a pack of lies. She hasn't a clue how to treat a transsexuals needs when it comes to medication. She insists on me staying off my HRT and letting my anti-depression drug Invega (which she up'd the dose) do it's thing. I kept telling her how the crazy, swirling thoughts in my head calmed down when I was on my hormones, but she wouldn't listen. I'm to see her in two weeks to let her know how I'm doing on the higher dose. I think I'll have to explain to her how the female brain I have needs estrogen with no testosterone. If she'd just wrap her head around me having a female brain it would get through to her. It's the same as if you put a female that has had a hysterectomy on testosterone. She'd become an angry, frustrated woman who couldn't function. That's what I am right now. Spiro with the estrogen stops all of that. But then, you girls on HRT know that, learned in transsexual 101. When I got home from my appointment tonight, I told Patty Lou, or rather, in my ranting at Patty Lou, I said I should become a therapist treating transsexuals. If I had the patience to get through schooling I would. There is an obvious need for someone who knows what a transsexual is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1781993853773630627?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1781993853773630627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1781993853773630627&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1781993853773630627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1781993853773630627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/stress-relieved-stress-received.html' title='Stress relieved, stress received'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6756572831289374027</id><published>2009-10-19T13:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T14:18:20.944-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A bigger pile of do-do</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've been trying to hold off writing until I had something good to write about, unfortunately, this won't be a happy post.&lt;br /&gt;We got a letter from the bankruptcy court saying we were in default. We didn't know it but you can't just tell them you can't pay for awhile and then pick it back up. Silly us. So now we have a meeting with our attorney Wednesday so he can tell us what's going to happen. From what I can understand, we will be put on a strict probation period of 6 months making our own attempt to pay the $151 a month payment. It was being taken out of Patty Lou's check automatically, but without her working it stopped. We didn't know the place where they're holding her job for her was suppose to pay it and then get it from us. It's all screwed up. So if we default on the probation, the creditors (mostly the IRS) will sue us, take a lean on our property, and ...well, we lose the place. I still haven't found work yet so making payments and living too is getting all the more difficult. Stopping living has entered my mind on many occasions lately. I just can't keep being this sad about everything that's jumping on me much longer. It hurts. I hurt. The question was asked, "What does it mean to be a woman." All the transgirls that answered failed to realize they brought their job and their knowledge that was acquired when they were men. Strip that away and try and start over from scratch and life as a woman isn't near as much fun. I can't fall back on my old life, and my new life is tearing me apart. I'm truly stuck in the middle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6756572831289374027?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6756572831289374027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6756572831289374027&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6756572831289374027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6756572831289374027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/bigger-pile-of-do-do.html' title='A bigger pile of do-do'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-946913887274973388</id><published>2009-10-12T14:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T14:27:12.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking a break</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Seems everyone is making plans for their soon to be GRS and I'm having trouble just existing. I just can't read any more for awhile. Sorry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-946913887274973388?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/946913887274973388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=946913887274973388&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/946913887274973388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/946913887274973388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/taking-break.html' title='Taking a break'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8571526434534019764</id><published>2009-10-11T18:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T19:43:36.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorrowful apology</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I feel the need to apologize for my lack of commenting on your writings. I do read them, but after clicking to comment, I sit here with my train of thought jumping around so much that nothing makes sense once I've written it. So I delete what I have written, get mad at myself for not being able to thing straight, and go on to someone elses post where the same thing happens again. To make half sense of what I'm reading , I must read it at least three times to get your meaning, and even then I may not. It's the lack of Spiro in my system blocking that poisonous T that's causing this. I've had this happen before on the few occasions that I've run out of meds. It's as though my thoughts overlap each other, each one never being completed. When I try to back up and complete the thought, more jump in and ...well, it just turns into a jumbled up mess. To give you an idea of the problem this is, it's going to take me at least an hour to write this explanation, writing and rewriting until it makes sense. And thank goodness for spell check, it affects that too! This is how I lived all those years pre-transition. That's why the only thing I ever wrote during those years was my name, and if you were to find my old y360 blog, which I've lost, you could see the difference between the early ones and the later ones, the early ones being at a third grade level of reading, and this after 7 months on hormones.&lt;br /&gt;Telling you this causes me much embarrassment and shame. I know it shouldn't, but it does. I just want you to understand that I'm not a friend that abandons you, I read and feel your happiness and sadness. I just don't want to convey something stupid that I don't mean in a comment.&lt;br /&gt;I've ordered up my meds again and will be back on them shortly. I couldn't wait and see if the clinic was going to help me, if they do, good. But getting back to being able to think straight was a necessity, so I paid for them. I'll be back to what passes as normal soon! lol&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8571526434534019764?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8571526434534019764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8571526434534019764&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8571526434534019764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8571526434534019764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/sorrowful-apology.html' title='Sorrowful apology'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1201402345942898442</id><published>2009-10-09T14:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T14:22:56.079-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Applying the lyrics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Although &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;Ready for Love &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;by Bad Company has nothing to do with being transgender, the main song lyrics are quite apropos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;Walkin' down this rocky road&lt;br /&gt;wondering where my life is leading&lt;br /&gt;Rollin' on to the bitter end&lt;br /&gt;Finding out along the way&lt;br /&gt;what it takes to keep love (on) living&lt;br /&gt;You should know how it feels my friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm on my feet again&lt;br /&gt;Better things are bound to happen&lt;br /&gt;All my dues surely must be paid&lt;br /&gt;Many miles and many tears&lt;br /&gt;Times were hard but now they're changing&lt;br /&gt;You should know that I'm not afraid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1201402345942898442?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1201402345942898442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1201402345942898442&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1201402345942898442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1201402345942898442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/applying-lyrics.html' title='Applying the lyrics'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3382775822756170403</id><published>2009-10-08T23:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T23:43:31.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Transitioning update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;First, today was a much easier day around the old homestead. Patty Lou was in a better frame of mind, so was I, even the dog seemed better. If you are arguing with your loved one, a word of advise. Quiet and calm talking works magic. Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You already know how the world has been treating me lately, it hasn't been very friendly. You would think that I would be discouraged with the transition part of my life. After all, I'm off hormones, stuck in a middle ground, no money to pay for things to go forward, no job either. Let's see, is there anything else?!!! ...Anyhow, I'm really in a good place with where I'm at. I mean, here I am with all of this trouble hounding me and I'm still being myself. I thought that when all this hit me that I'd retreat back to the comfort of boydom. Well, come to find out, it is much more comfortable going through this as I am now as it would have been if I'd retreated. ...Am I even making any sense here? I hope you get what I'm trying to say. One more time. ...These same troubles would have been much more troubling for 'Steven' as they are for 'Stephanie'. ...By gawd I think she's got it!! lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Troubles are what made Steven strong. Troubles are what is going to make Stephanie strong. I'm getting stronger every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, just as long as a meteor doesn't smash me flat....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3382775822756170403?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3382775822756170403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3382775822756170403&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3382775822756170403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3382775822756170403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/transitioning-update.html' title='Transitioning update'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3754451142633334225</id><published>2009-10-07T21:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T22:20:04.918-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ding! And the light bulb comes on.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I'm a little slow sometimes when it comes to figuring out what's going on when Patty Lou seems all out of sorts, but I catch on eventually. She's been a beast to live with today, mad one minute, crying the next. It finally dawned on me that she hasn't smoked a cigarette today. Duh! She's going through withdrawal. Our oldest daughter and a friend of Pats bought her a bunch of cigarettes for her birthday. She's smoked them up. She had said just before her birthday that she wasn't going to buy anymore. I guess she's trying hard to hold herself to that promise. If today was any indication on how that will work out, I doubt she'll be able to keep it. I do wish she would have told me this and not let me sit and wonder what had turned her into a crazy bitch from hell! Nate, our dog, would have liked to have known too. Even he's been catchin' hell from her! I hadn't thought of this before she went to bed, but I did ask her to please wake up in a better mood. Tomorrow I'll let her know what I see is the problem. Of course, I may catch hell for that too! I see this as a situation that won't get better for some time to come. I doubt it will be soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3754451142633334225?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3754451142633334225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3754451142633334225&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3754451142633334225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3754451142633334225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/ding-and-light-bulb-comes-on.html' title='Ding! And the light bulb comes on.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1031829555128871318</id><published>2009-10-07T16:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T22:38:09.747-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctors, doctors, and arguments</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yesterday I had my usual check up at the clinic. I let them know that I was off my hormones and the Spiro. I've been trying to talk them into prescribing them to me there, but it's been to no avail. I have an appointment with my therapist the 21st,(if she shows!) and it was said she may prescribe them then. I hope so. My anger and anxiety has reached the level of pre-transition. Not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patty Lou had her cast removed and her ankle x-rayed today. But they still don't like how it's healing, so they put another cast on and gave her an appointment for the 4th of Nov. Another month! Her diabetes and her SMOKING! are the reasons she isn't healing very fast. We got into a screaming match a bit ago that left both of us crying. I was accused of helping too much! She's stressed, I'm stressed, we need space between us. I'll be at this end of the house the rest of the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top things off, today I got laughed at by two young guys while I was waiting in line at Wal*Mart. This usually doesn't bother me, but the way things are right now ...well, it hurt today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the dog pooped on the floor over night! That's only the third time since we got him New Years Day. Why now? ...I guess he's stressed too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1031829555128871318?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1031829555128871318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1031829555128871318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1031829555128871318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1031829555128871318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/doctors-doctors-and-arguments.html' title='Doctors, doctors, and arguments'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4306122477404376378</id><published>2009-10-05T15:46:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T18:49:48.881-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Transsexual Jeckyll and Hyde Experiment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Here's the experiment. You start with a mess of a human, someone that is on the verge of total destruction of them self. Then through the science of hormonal therapy you create someone that is not only functional but is thriving in their new found happiness. Then, when their confidence is soaring, you take away all the things that they cling to for life and you sit back and see how long it takes for them to fall apart. Dr. Jekyll would be proud of the Ms. Hyde you've created!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: The rate and amount of destruction in test subject is in direct correlation with the amount of denial of hormones. Your mileage may vary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4306122477404376378?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4306122477404376378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4306122477404376378&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4306122477404376378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4306122477404376378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/transexual-jeckyll-and-hyde-experiment.html' title='The Transsexual Jeckyll and Hyde Experiment'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2518844783756976832</id><published>2009-10-04T10:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T12:44:43.709-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ahhh, there's nothing like the smell of wet dog when you bring him in from his morning pee. And nothing like the smell of stale cigarette smoke that isn't exhausted because the house is closed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This mornings breakfast dishes are still waiting for me. I probably gained another 2 pounds from the glut of bacon I consumed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I wouldn't be doing anything outside anyway, just knowing that it's raining and I can't go out brings me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's not being on my hormones that's bringing me down. Or maybe it's no job to go to. Or probably a combination of both. Life is sucking lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell I'm not a happy camper? (no need to answer that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing seems to be going right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee, I hate writing these stupid sad posts. I have no happy ones to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...(sigh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;ps: (2hrs. later) It turns out, it's a perfect day to put the headphones on and sing at the top of my lungs to Pink Floyd, much to the dismay of Patty Lou! lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2518844783756976832?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2518844783756976832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2518844783756976832&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2518844783756976832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2518844783756976832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/rainy-sunday.html' title='Rainy Sunday'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-963818246810565613</id><published>2009-10-04T00:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T00:09:28.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And then tonight's trip to the bar brought me right back down to reality. I'm different than the drag queens. I'm different than the gay men. I'm different than the lesbians. I'm so different that I sit by myself in my own little world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's best if you keep your head out of the clouds and your feet on firm ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-963818246810565613?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/963818246810565613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=963818246810565613&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/963818246810565613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/963818246810565613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/back-to-reallity.html' title='Back to reality'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8198899695560550527</id><published>2009-10-03T09:31:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T10:11:08.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stroking my ...ego</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I went to the bar last night, as usual. It was a good thing I did 'cause I may have a job cleaning it and two other bars. More on this later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bar owner has a titty bar down the street from Jesters, and last night he brought the girls up to strip for the lesbians. Watching six 20+ year old girls simulate sex on stage is a big hit with them. While they were working the crowd pre-show, one pretty little lesbian dancer came over to me and danced, twisted, rubbed, handled, nibbled, pawed .........mmmmmm. I thought she was just working me for a dollar, but she asked me for a date after the show! I couldn't believe it. She thought I was one of the lesbians looking for a date. Me! Talk about an ego boost. Although it took me awhile to turn her down, I did. (something kept telling me I was married) I never did tell her I was trans, no need to unless your headed for bed. She stopped by my table and tried to get me to come with her again before she left, but no, I was a good girl. I'll probably never get an offer like that from another 21 yr old. ...sigh ...Damn conscience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8198899695560550527?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8198899695560550527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8198899695560550527&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8198899695560550527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8198899695560550527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/10/stroking-my-ego.html' title='Stroking my ...ego'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6743501507366019899</id><published>2009-09-30T22:45:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T23:57:52.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rambling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SsQ0yPJHy-I/AAAAAAAAAP0/zDxqesH2N6s/s1600-h/Picture+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SsQ0yPJHy-I/AAAAAAAAAP0/zDxqesH2N6s/s320/Picture+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387489091904850914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've been talking to Teddy Rat tonight, asking him the same question over and over again. "What should I do now?" He doesn't have an answer. He's a good listener though. I tell him my problems and no matter how I drone on about them he sits and takes it all in. Telling all these problems to someone else would have them leaving me. Nobody wants to hear or sit though such a long list. They would bore even those that are paid to hear them. ...Maybe a good bartender could stand hearing my troubles. That's it! Since I have no therapist now (nobody has heard from her) I'll tell all to a my bartender. I'll get pissy drunk in the process too. Bonus! ...Well, that won't solve anything....(sigh) I understand how some people try to run away from their problems. My feet are itching. I have a wife though, and I won't drag her down with me. I wouldn't be afraid to leave everything and run if it was just me I had to care for. I could sleep in a tent or under a bridge, need be. I don't need much, although, a laptop would be high on the list of luxuries. I have an addiction! I also have a strong urge to be free of all responsibilities. I'm guess I'm just tired of trying. I want all these bills to stop. I want all these things that keep breaking down to stop. (electric problems again) I just want to be responsible for me for once in my life. I want to quit, quit everything, but I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6743501507366019899?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6743501507366019899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6743501507366019899&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6743501507366019899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6743501507366019899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/rambling.html' title='Rambling'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SsQ0yPJHy-I/AAAAAAAAAP0/zDxqesH2N6s/s72-c/Picture+009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4007651921473454853</id><published>2009-09-30T17:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T17:42:16.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a pic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SsPddHNlqwI/AAAAAAAAAPs/48Wxs9mcHKk/s1600-h/Picture+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SsPddHNlqwI/AAAAAAAAAPs/48Wxs9mcHKk/s320/Picture+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387393071487232770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"If there's a smile upon my face, it's only there tryin' to fool the public.__&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Smokey Robinson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4007651921473454853?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4007651921473454853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4007651921473454853&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4007651921473454853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4007651921473454853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-pic.html' title='Just a pic'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SsPddHNlqwI/AAAAAAAAAPs/48Wxs9mcHKk/s72-c/Picture+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2459832798490290338</id><published>2009-09-28T22:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T23:10:47.722-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish I could have been Daddy's girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The fact that today would have been my fathers birthday didn't slip past me. It's been on my mind all day. Some of you know that I have father issues. He was there, but was absent, if you know what I mean. He doled out the punishment, sometimes on the side of my head. As the years go by, it seems less of a problem to me, the 'no praise, just punishment'  way he was. He only lived 40+ years, he was young. I don't know if it's an excuse to forgive him or just me getting older and understanding better, but I have reconciled my problems with him. I feel we all make mistakes, and if he would have lived longer, I want to think that he would have become more understanding of me. He's been gone for 30 years now, it's time I let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a hard day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do miss him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2459832798490290338?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2459832798490290338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2459832798490290338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2459832798490290338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2459832798490290338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-wish-i-could-have-been-daddys-girl.html' title='I wish I could have been Daddy&apos;s girl.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6343901845124009901</id><published>2009-09-28T09:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T09:45:42.478-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast Pizza</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I went to our little country store this morning to get some breakfast-to-go. I was glad that there wasn't a crowd there since I went without make up, no bra, nothing but my blue jean purse to distinguish me as female. I had a sleeping pill hangover going too. After the, "Good morning", "That's a damn lie", exchange we had, I get to the counter and tell Robert (owner) I felt like I was somewhere between hell and a hard place. He looks at me and says, "You look like shit", and then breaks out in nearly a tearful laughter. Now, most girls would be offended, but I've known Robert for about 10 years, and I knew he was playin' me. I did look like shit, and he knew I knew I looked like shit. There was no mean intention. We both laughed. As I left the store, a man held the door open for me and gave me a "Good morning" with a big smile, quenching my need to be seen as female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been a 5 minute stop in my morning. Nothing special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And "Good Morning" to you too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6343901845124009901?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6343901845124009901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6343901845124009901&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6343901845124009901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6343901845124009901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/breakfast-pizza.html' title='Breakfast Pizza'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1225411061703576143</id><published>2009-09-27T18:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T19:11:11.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts because of extra time on my hands.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I'm slowly weaning myself off of my hormones, not because I want to, but because of my financial problems. So far, there hasn't been any major explosions of anger out of me like the last time when I ran out. I cut back the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;spiro&lt;/span&gt; to one (100mg) every other day for a week until I ran out Friday. I'm down to 2mg of estrogen every day. I'll be going to an every other day dose in 10 days from now. I guess it seems strange to you that I would rather pay for a used computer than buy my hormones for two months, but there's logic behind my decision. The decision? Two months of hormones and no computer, or computer for much longer than two months? The computer won out because of the therapeutic properties it has to offer. And, finding even a small job will afford me a minimal dose of my hormones, whereas a computer still wouldn't be affordable. And too, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Invega&lt;/span&gt; I'm on is causing me to lactate so maybe there are properties to it that helps a girl like me.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt; I'll see how this med regimen goes and then go from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This 'lady of leisure'/unemployed thing is getting old. I don't see how people can do it. I miss my friends that I had at work, even if they weren't really true friends, the interaction with people is what I crave. I used to hide from people, me feeling unworthy or less than acceptable to be around. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;GID&lt;/span&gt; and all, you know. I was slowly building my self worth up when I lost my job, which put it back a few steps again. I feel I may never be the confident type of person I long to be. It's a slow process. And in this world of throw away people, there's always something that will lurk around the corner to crush your spirit. Building confidence in oneself is hard to do when your constantly looking over your shoulder. I've been looking behind me all of my life. I want to look forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new shows are on television now. Yeah! I watched Cortney Cox in Cougar town the other night. When I was young, I used to like older women, especially the well made-up women. It was more of a longing to be them, look like them thing than a sex thing. I guess &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; could be the cougar now, but young men just seem so silly, and for me to crush on a cougar now, well, she'd have to 80! ...(sigh) ...time marches on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1225411061703576143?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1225411061703576143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1225411061703576143&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1225411061703576143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1225411061703576143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/thoughts-because-of-extra-time-on-my.html' title='Thoughts because of extra time on my hands.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8143537330367739686</id><published>2009-09-27T10:42:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T11:23:52.701-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A night out and life learned</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/Sr-QIqH2M4I/AAAAAAAAAPk/divgvVg5_qQ/s1600-h/Picture+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/Sr-QIqH2M4I/AAAAAAAAAPk/divgvVg5_qQ/s320/Picture+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386182157778957186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I took Patty Lou with me to the bar last night, sort of a late birthday night out thingy. It's hard getting her in and out of places with her wheelchair. I have a new respect for those who are confined to one. We watched a drag show, had some birthday cake they improvised for her, and got home about midnight :30. We had a good time, as the pic suggests. (like my mans shirt/lesbian look?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I've come to understand during this time of my caretaker position is that I could actually take care of myself if I had to. I've never had to. But for a few brief times alone before marriage, I've always had Patty Lou to take care of me. She did all the bookkeeping/paying of bills, running the house type of things though out our 36 year marriage. We've always joked that if she died, I'd be right behind her 'cause I wouldn't be able to do any of the necessary things for daily living. The most I did was to wash a dish once in awhile or do a load of laundry. Bill paying? Paperwork scared me! I'm still intimidated by it. (one reason I was only a 'c' average student in school. the other, I never studied!) Now with her ankle broke, I've not only been taking care of me, but her too. And if I do say so, I'm doing a good job of it, I'm really proud of myself. I guess life really is a learning process. What you don't know today, just live long enough and you'll &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;have &lt;/span&gt;to learn how to do it. Necessity is a demanding teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8143537330367739686?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8143537330367739686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8143537330367739686&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8143537330367739686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8143537330367739686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/night-out-and-life-learned.html' title='A night out and life learned'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/Sr-QIqH2M4I/AAAAAAAAAPk/divgvVg5_qQ/s72-c/Picture+007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2014559383081288644</id><published>2009-09-24T19:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T20:08:06.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To the Birthday Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrwWJ340prI/AAAAAAAAAPc/Cf9t4kUdgHU/s1600-h/Picture+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrwWJ340prI/AAAAAAAAAPc/Cf9t4kUdgHU/s320/Picture+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385203613305185970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tomorrow, Sept. 25th, is your birthday, Patty Lou. You'll be ...younger than me. In my eyes, you'll always be that cute little blond girl of 12 years old that I met way back when. You still have that laugh all day attitude you had when I met you, and that little evil grin you can give when you want to be mischievous. Though faded somewhat, your blue eyes sparkle just as they always have. Your still a friend to everyone, naive to the trouble you could find. You told me not long ago that you was put on this earth to have fun, and fun your going to have, saying this with a broken ankle throbbing! I knew when we first met we were going to be together forever, and as hard as I made it for you to stay with me, you remain by my side. You love me, and I love you. Happy Birthday Patty Lou! xxxxxxxx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2014559383081288644?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2014559383081288644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2014559383081288644&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2014559383081288644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2014559383081288644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-birthday-girl.html' title='To the Birthday Girl'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrwWJ340prI/AAAAAAAAAPc/Cf9t4kUdgHU/s72-c/Picture+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3597496036285328618</id><published>2009-09-23T16:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T17:26:34.263-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance isn't bliss</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It will be three years on Christmas that I will have had a computer. (prior to that, Web TV) All of them used, this is the third one that I've bought. Seems I get a virus every year even with all kinds of protection. The other two computers were bought from a place that is out of business now, otherwise I would have went there again. But I understand why they are out of business now. The older man that ran the place was nice, friendly, and treated me no different than anyone else. I liked him. Every time I bought anything, he would say, "I'm sure you'll be pleased with it." And I was, but only because I didn't know any better. This computer that I bought yesterday ($185) is just so much more than what I had it makes being online really fun. The old ones were slow, really slow, 21.6 kbps slow, me being on dial up. Sometimes I would click on something and go do something else while it was loading! This computer runs at 32.6 kbps, not the fastest you can get, but I'm still just on dial up. I still haven't tried to run Youtube or download music yet, but I'm well satisfied with what I've got for what I've spent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me wonder what other things in my life that I have little knowledge about would shine amazement in my eyes if I were enlightened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, about those viruses. Along with Mozilla, I'm going to get this computer both a regular and swine flu shot, feed it penicillin, and make it wear a mask continuously!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3597496036285328618?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3597496036285328618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3597496036285328618&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3597496036285328618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3597496036285328618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/ignorance-isnt-bliss.html' title='Ignorance isn&apos;t bliss'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4669128142220286597</id><published>2009-09-22T19:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T20:18:22.568-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Different computer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So my computer crashed, or rather, I crashed it. It was giving me problems booting up sometimes, and sometimes it would shut down windows saying that it had detected an error. And under the category of "two errors don't make a right", I tried to fix it. Bad move. So someday I'll try and get it fixed, but for now I'm on a different, much better one that has me scratching my head for a bit of understanding. I'll learn how to use it. 'til then you may have to bare with me for awhile. I'm kinda like a reborn virgin here, I did it once, but it's all new to me now! I'll be good at it again! Practice, practice, practice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, in the category of Too Much Info, I've got to talk to my therapist like real bad. Seems these new pills have me lactating! Cream in your coffee, anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4669128142220286597?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4669128142220286597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4669128142220286597&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4669128142220286597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4669128142220286597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/different-computer.html' title='Different computer'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5958681321202707491</id><published>2009-09-19T23:28:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T00:34:10.345-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Drinks disguised as desserts should be banned!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrW-gaHInGI/AAAAAAAAAPU/GlJVulD9v0g/s1600-h/Toilet+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383418393565633634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrW-gaHInGI/AAAAAAAAAPU/GlJVulD9v0g/s320/Toilet+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I thought my Saturdays spent worshiping the porcelain gods were over. But nooooo! With the mood I've been in the last few days, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I should have known better than to go out drinking. I only had 2 beers and 3 chocolate martinis, but the martini's were killer. So, I suffered today. I did find out that after not shooting pool for over 20 years, if I had to, I could still hustle a dollar on the tables. (didn't know that about me, did ya!) I won 6 straight games not losing any against the bars best. My teen years were spent in the pool hall next to the bowling alley. In both places I was real good at making a dollar. It should be easier now. I can put on a short skirt and a low cut top and distract them! lol &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I apologise for not commenting on your posts. I've been in my gray world for awhile, and I don't like leaving comments when I am. I say things I really don't mean, or things I mean to say, I show no tact in expressing them. It's best I keep my thoughts to myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Like Arnold said, "I'll be back!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5958681321202707491?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5958681321202707491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5958681321202707491&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5958681321202707491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5958681321202707491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/drinks-disguised-as-desserts-should-be.html' title='Drinks disguised as desserts should be banned!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrW-gaHInGI/AAAAAAAAAPU/GlJVulD9v0g/s72-c/Toilet+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4914557911398404914</id><published>2009-09-16T23:03:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T23:38:55.191-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cancellations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrG8UhbYCoI/AAAAAAAAAPM/_lzeKqW7CO0/s1600-h/blue_bird_of_happiness_-_not.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382290090441050754" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 287px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrG8UhbYCoI/AAAAAAAAAPM/_lzeKqW7CO0/s320/blue_bird_of_happiness_-_not.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Are you like me? Do you hate it when someone cancels an appointment, especially when they cancel at the last moment?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I had my appointment with Dr. H canceled today, about an hour before time for me to leave the house. I had my make up done, dressed, ready to go and then I got a call. I guess it could have been worse. No call and me drive for 40 minutes just to be told then. But still. I don't do that. If I have an appointment, or have to be somewhere, I'm always 10 minutes early. Always! In the three years I had my janitor job, I missed 2 days, one of which I showed up and my daughter sent me home 'cause I was too sick to work. The other, I called in with a terrible sinus infection. I just believe in being where I'm suppose to be when I'm suppose to be there. I don't want to disrupt anybodies plans or schedule. It's rude to do so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I guess I shouldn't be complaining. After all, it is a free clinic, with volunteers doing the best they can. It's, ....well, I guess I just really wanted to see the dr., I need a therapy session, and now I don't know when I'll see her. The nurse said maybe next Wed. ...sigh Guess I'll just have one more week of frustration to vent about. Tonight? You'll have to do. Hmmm, at least the price is the same! Wait! They get $5 for paperwork. Y'all are better!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4914557911398404914?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4914557911398404914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4914557911398404914&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4914557911398404914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4914557911398404914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/are-you-like-me-do-you-hate-it-when.html' title='Cancellations'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/SrG8UhbYCoI/AAAAAAAAAPM/_lzeKqW7CO0/s72-c/blue_bird_of_happiness_-_not.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8165657782541155856</id><published>2009-09-15T10:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T10:50:36.202-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a dream, girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;There is a torch song singer inside of me dying to be set free. A woman with strong feelings, feelings that can only be expressed in song. Deep within me I feel it, the soul of a songstress, wanting desperately to escape the confines that holds her voice back. It's there, been there for all my years. A gritty, soulful, painful sound. A scream, a tear, no, many tears that have built an ocean of pain. Pain that can only be turned lose with the accompaniment of music. Music to be heard and felt by many, by those that have the same pain as I do, the same ache, frustration, disillusion within them. She must be set free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Ok, so where did that come from? I watched Dreamgirls last night!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;...but the feelings are real, the woman is real. And she desperately needs to be heard. Sadly she still says, "Perhaps someday."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8165657782541155856?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8165657782541155856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8165657782541155856&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8165657782541155856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8165657782541155856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/there-is-torch-song-singer-inside-of-me.html' title='It&apos;s a dream, girl.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-532797038252257880</id><published>2009-09-14T23:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T23:48:21.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm just a big Dufus!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;My never planning ahead has gotten me in more trouble than I could ever write about here. I've let opportunities past by me over and over again. I always put the blame on me being transgender and, in doing that, I can take the guilty feeling off of me. It's all my own fault that I am where I am in this world. Other transgender people have made something of themselves, I should have too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I got a call from the job placement people this morning. There was a welding job available if I had been a certified welder. I'm not, due to my own stupidity. I could/should have been. I had the chance to go and take the test, free of charge even. But I didn't. Back toward the end of my 11 years of welding at my step-brother-in-laws welding shop, he needed all the certified welders he could get to go to Magic Springs Amusement Park to weld. But I opted to stay at the shop and build all the parts that went out there for others to weld together. I say opted, but really it was because of, (1) my thin eyebrows causing me to shy away from people who didn't know about me. (Yes, I know. When I say I couldn't let them grow, it sounds stupid!) (2) Me wanting to be sure I was off at 3pm so I could get drunk and even higher than I was all day. (3) Get drunk and play dress up on Monday, Tuesday nights. Wednesday and Thursday I primped getting ready for the weekend. In other words, my life revolved around me being transgender so much, that the things I should have put first, I gave a back seat to or sometimes no seat at all. I'm a big dufus! That's a dumb ass for those who don't know what a dufus is. Now if I went to get certified, I'd have to pay to take a class and pay for a test, with money I don't have now. So what do I do? I raise my hands in the air and scream, WHY ME!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I'm a DUFUS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou should have thrown a blanket over me and beat me with a broom handle long ago!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-532797038252257880?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/532797038252257880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=532797038252257880&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/532797038252257880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/532797038252257880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-just-big-dufus.html' title='I&apos;m just a big Dufus!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-339702832808047730</id><published>2009-09-12T13:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T14:05:31.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ups and downs</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;When my therapist added Invega (nerve calming) to my med list, she told me one of the side effects in males was breast growth. "But you won't mind that," she said. (MIND IT! Bring it on!) Of course, I thought it was like other drugs that had that warning precaution on the label, there only for legal reasons, applying only to the .000000002% of males that got sensitive "bumps" who wanted to sue for a large settlement. I took the two week, once a day, "let's see if you have any side effects" dose, and I kinda thought there was something happening in the boob area, but I wasn't sure. I had lowered my hormone intake trying to save money, and I thought that the sensitivity I was feeling could have been attributed to that. But now with the increase in the Invega the doc prescribed, 4 days into it I know that the breasts are "perking up". WooHoo!! .........I think, I don't know, maybe? ....If I don't get a job because of them, that WooHoo could turn to a, "why the hell did I do this to me", damn!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I hate this, this every step forward being met with doubt. Not doubt that I should be female, that I'm sure of. But doubt that transitioning at this stage of life with my very limited resources, wasn't something I should have undertaken. That maybe I should have let it lie where it was as just a dream. And all this goes though my head with me knowing that I wouldn't be here today if I wouldn't have started transitioning. I feel like I've become the poster girl for, "Damned if I do, Damned if I don't".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;It's raining today. S'pose to rain tomorrow too, and the next day. Today it's raining in my head too, with a gloomy outlook.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-339702832808047730?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/339702832808047730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=339702832808047730&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/339702832808047730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/339702832808047730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/ups-and-downs.html' title='Ups and downs'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5791067895634189671</id><published>2009-09-09T19:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T19:51:43.813-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A discouraging day</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou's appointment with the doctors UAMS was a bit discouraging. We thought the cast would come off today, but no. They said her diabetes is making the healing process take about double the time for the bone to bond. They put on another cast and gave her an appointment for the 7th of October. So, she's down a little today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;While I was there, I checked to see if they did have a transsexual research program that I could get into. Nope. I'm being to think my therapist is full of..... . So, I'm down a little today too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I was aware of it being 09-09-09, and I watched the clock pass 09:09 this morning. Good thing I'm not superstitious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5791067895634189671?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5791067895634189671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5791067895634189671&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5791067895634189671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5791067895634189671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/discouraging-day.html' title='A discouraging day'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3687293487418938596</id><published>2009-09-08T20:50:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T21:53:39.542-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clown No. 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;There are days when I feel I'm just one of the clowns coming out of the clown car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;This morning I had to pick up the second half of my new prescription for Invega. They only gave me a two week supply to see how I would react to it. The drug costs $782 for a months supply,(I pay $5) so they didn't want to give me the whole months worth if I was going to have a bad reaction to it. How 60 pills that you don't even get high on can cost that much is beyond me! Anyway, I didn't sleep much over night. It was my own fault, I played here until 2am. I came to at 7, half asleep yet from the night time pills, fixed the make-up I'd slept in, zapped some previously made eggs, ham, and cheese biscuits, and climbed in the Jimmy to make the 25 mile trip to the clinic. As I'm walking in, I notice I have a glob of cheese on my pink T-shirt that when pulled off leaves an orange stain. Great, I'm already self conscious about my hands peeling from washing the car in pure , well, it's a degreaser from my old job. (Perks!) Today I found it strips paint too! So anyway, I look and feel a mess, and it seems I have to see EVERYONE in the clinic before I leave! Geez!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;After a not so quick stop at Wal*Mart for spray paint, (ran into an old friend while there) I get to the house, get out of my town clothes, put on work clothes, and went to work stripping the old paint off of a two step kitchen high chair. Two hours of stripping, two hours of painting,(forest green) and it's finally done. I clean up, sit down here to read, and remember that I forgot to get Patty Lou's cigarettes when I was in town. Ahhh, THAT"S why she's not talkin' to me! (I've been after her to quit) So I change clothes to go to the little country store, glance in the mirror at my make-up, not bad, I'm off for the 6 mile trip to the store. After buying the cigarettes and getting in the car, I have to pull down the sun visor and I see it. The whole underside of my nose and top lip is forest green! Oh gawd, just shoot me now! I wipe it off, then I tell Patty Lou when I get home so she can laugh hysterically at me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I guess I'm getting too comfortable in this full time thingy. I learn by mistakes. You can bet I'll look myself over a little bit better from now on. But I know it will happen again. It happens to GG's too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;P.S. I've noticed my writing has a much more upbeat theme to it lately. The Invega must be working. ...And I get to double the dose today! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3687293487418938596?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3687293487418938596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3687293487418938596&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3687293487418938596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3687293487418938596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/clown-no-13.html' title='Clown No. 13'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4618054791709698034</id><published>2009-09-08T00:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T01:03:39.669-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We get smarter as we get older</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Yah, right! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Some things I've recently learned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;1. Just because the rose bush is dead, that doesn't mean the thorns won't stick you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;2. Before bathing your dog in the bathtub, close the bathroom door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;3. When the label reads, "Wear gloves when using", wear gloves. Some cleaners will eat the skin off of your hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;4. Skin pealing off of your hands should never be pulled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;5. Never fry bacon naked.(I already knew this from past experience. But I took a refresher course yesterday!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;6. After cutting a piece of metal, it is hot. (This I already knew from previous experience. Aren't refresher courses wonderful!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;7. Never say anything bad about your wife's child, even if it's your child too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;8. Always smell your milk before drinking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;9. If you go outside without your dentures in, someone is sure to drop by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;10. Never pick your nose after handling jalapeno peppers. (again, a refresher course)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;11. .....and the list will keep on growing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4618054791709698034?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4618054791709698034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4618054791709698034&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4618054791709698034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4618054791709698034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/we-get-smarter-as-we-get-older.html' title='We get smarter as we get older'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8152178094884925814</id><published>2009-09-06T18:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T18:39:05.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Groundhog Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Have they added more hours to Sunday? Or do the clocks move slower on Sundays? I guess I'm just not going to be happy on Sundays, I used to be. Back when I worked M-F, (that's Monday through Friday. lol) I liked my Sundays, well, some of them. Some were spent with my head under the covers hiding from light and sound after too much drinking on Saturday night. There were a lot of those. But some Sundays, we would get in whatever old car we had, pack a lunch, a couple joints, and just drive. With no map, no destiny, just turn down this and that road, it was fun. We don't do that anymore. I guess we could, now that I'm not working on Sunday again. But then once we get home our aches and pains would begin to shout at us. It's just not worth the pain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;I liked working Sundays with my daughter the last 3 years. Oh, I complained about having to, when I had to. But now with no job, well, I'd rather be working. You know what they say. You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;("A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;nd the big yellow taxi pulled in the parkin' lot")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;So today I made breakfast, watched 3 movies, the names of which I couldn't tell you, (boring!) sat here at the computer twice, (y'all need to write more!) zapped a lunch, and took the dog out twice. Oh, and I think I ate about 10 in-between-meal snacks! (12 pounds in 11 days!) And it's only 25 minutes after 6pm!!!!!!! I'll never survive this being out of work!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8152178094884925814?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8152178094884925814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8152178094884925814&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8152178094884925814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8152178094884925814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/groundhog-sunday.html' title='Groundhog Sunday'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7037421788823146748</id><published>2009-09-04T16:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T17:48:07.564-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy, very busy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I'm not one of those people that are multitask masters, I do things one at a time. When I get done with one, I go on to the next. I've always been that way, giving my full attention to each chore. In doing that, I feel I've done my best, which is necessary to appease the perfectionist in me. Once I get started, I don't stop. And getting started isn't a problem anymore, now that I've stopped smoking the herb!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;! I get up, get started, and keep going non stop until I sit down here usually before bed. (I'm early today, going out tonight!) That's how I've always been on any job I've worked at. No breaks, keep going 'til finished.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;So while I was still employed, things around the house backed up considerably. (One thing at a time.) Two sheds desperately needed sorting, both our bedrooms had things stored in them because the sheds were a mess, and a large, 5 sided breakfast nook had more than the bedrooms. So far, I've cleared everywhere but one shed, and it's exclusively for storage. (The other doubles as a workshop.) Along with that mess cleaned, I've washed (hand scrubbed!) a neglected car, mowed an overgrown lawn, built a handrail on the steps leading into the house for Patty Lou, and cleared the weeds and old veggies out of the garden. All of this was done this week along with 7 trips to town for appointments, and the never ending housework/caregiver/dog walker job I acquired when Patty Lou broke her ankle. Phew!, I'm tired! I need to get a job so I can get some rest!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Seeing the results of my hard work is rewarding, giving me a sense of accomplishment. I need that now. It fights off depressing thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7037421788823146748?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7037421788823146748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7037421788823146748&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7037421788823146748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7037421788823146748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/busy-very-busy.html' title='Busy, very busy!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5741280807347963272</id><published>2009-09-03T13:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T14:00:00.061-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your brain and gender</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;There's a story being reported by MSNBC that a woman in Germany had a seizure, causing her to think that she was a man. It was also reported that she was perceiving other women as changing into men. The story said the scientists were saying, "Although this is just one incident, we are now thinking this is proof that your brain is connected to your gender perception."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Ahhhhh, DUH! Do they not listen when the multitudes of M-F transsexuals tell them they have a female brain and see themselves as being in the wrong body?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Maybe my new job classification should be scientist. I'm obviously intelligent enough!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5741280807347963272?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5741280807347963272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5741280807347963272&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5741280807347963272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5741280807347963272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/your-brain-and-gender.html' title='Your brain and gender'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-2716980235385205698</id><published>2009-09-01T18:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T19:14:06.919-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy Rider</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/Sp21TlaNcFI/AAAAAAAAAO8/AB03w9G3kH8/s1600-h/Pictures+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376652878214426706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/Sp21TlaNcFI/AAAAAAAAAO8/AB03w9G3kH8/s320/Pictures+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou had her regular check-up at the clinic this afternoon. Pushing her around in her wheelchair was difficult because of narrow halls and doorways. I was running into everything, although, not once did I bang her broken ankle. Even so, she was grumbling telling the staff that I was a terrible driver and nurse, all in jest. So when we got to Wal*Mart, I took her picture in one of their zoom, zoom machines. Since Wal*Mart is her favorite place to shop (shopping in one in all 50 states would thrill her to no end!) if you see this coming at you, run, run away. Run as fast as you can! lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;"Danger! DANGER!!, Will Robinson!"&lt;/span&gt; ...(guess I dated myself there!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-2716980235385205698?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/2716980235385205698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=2716980235385205698&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2716980235385205698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/2716980235385205698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/09/easy-rider.html' title='Easy Rider'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oFepcqzJLr4/Sp21TlaNcFI/AAAAAAAAAO8/AB03w9G3kH8/s72-c/Pictures+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-4883388824702420113</id><published>2009-08-31T23:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T00:44:27.995-05:00</updated><title type='text'>$131, Beans, Ground Beef, Mac &amp; Cheese</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;I went and filed for my unemployment benefits today. 3 1/2 hours of sitting, getting on the computer, sitting, interviewing, and sitting, there was lots of sitting, I found out I'll be receiving $131 a week. It will take about 3 weeks before the first debit card will arrive. I'd better have a job by then! Thank goodness I decided that my daughter could pay me only once a month when I was working. I'll have a months pay tomorrow to live on, plus a little from last month, plus a little Patty Lou doesn't know about, so I'm not worried too much , ...yet. Just wait until October and me with no job. I'll be a raving lunatic! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;We're getting every federal, state, and local help agency involved with us again. I hate that. I said I'd never do that again, now, here I am. We had to do that about 30 years ago when the kids were little. It was because of me not being able to tame those transgender thoughts whirling in my head. I couldn't stay out of a dress long enough to hold a job, I'd get fired. It's ironic that I've just been laid off from a job after being full time for over 2 1/2 years, and I'll be that way when I go back to work. Yep, made that decision today, no other choice really. But what pushed my decision that direction was today's experience. While everyone could tell I'm in-between genders, no one cared. Every pronoun was correct, there wasn't any giggles, not even a knowing grin from employees or from the clients waiting. Not one thing in the 3 &amp;amp; 1/2 hours I was there could even remotely be considered derogatory. And I even had to be called Steven. (first on the fix-it list!!!) I'll put this lay off/job search in it's proper place as part of my RLE, where it belongs, just like any other girl would have to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;Stephanie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-4883388824702420113?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/4883388824702420113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=4883388824702420113&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4883388824702420113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/4883388824702420113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/131-beans-ground-beef-mac-cheese.html' title='$131, Beans, Ground Beef, Mac &amp; Cheese'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6472707231625191017</id><published>2009-08-30T22:40:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T23:31:40.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dilemma</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I put in an application for a custodian job at Community Counseling Services here in Hot Springs. A forty hour week with an hour for lunch, it would pay well, and comes with all kinds of benefits. It was an online application in which I used my legal name (Steven, arrrrgh!) and I didn't tell of me being transgender and transitioning.(should I?) If I do get an interview, I'm at a dilemma wondering if I should be proud of who I am and show up as my real self and probably not get the job, or if I should see if 'Steven' can get the job and then transition, ...again. 'Steven' does not look like a 'Steven' much anymore, greatly reducing the chances that he could get the job either. It is a building full of psychiatrists, counselors, and therapists. Shouldn't they understand? Decisions, decisions, decisions. Guess I should wait and see if the horse shows up before I decide if I'm going to ride it side saddle!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6472707231625191017?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6472707231625191017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6472707231625191017&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6472707231625191017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6472707231625191017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/dilemma.html' title='The Dilemma'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8307015770448963958</id><published>2009-08-28T22:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T22:59:46.464-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I got that lovin' feelin'...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;...or, "You love me", "You really love me!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;As it turned out, I had to go back to the plant this evening. They wanted their trash emptied before Sunday when my daughter was going to do it. It only took me 3 1/2 hours, but in the time I was there, both Amanda and Candy, who were working late, gave my hurt feelings a much needed pick-me-up. Both of them said their goodbyes to me, Candy saying, but not for long, that I'd be back. She remembers when the new cleaners had the contract before us, how nasty the place was. They're going with them to save a whopping $166 a month! I have my doubts about us returning even if they see it was a mistake letting us go. The bitch in charge of the contract wanted me gone. And yes I'm sure it was my being transgender that was a major cause for us to go. She's trans phobic, probably homophobic, and every other kind of phobic. Which I can't understand. She has a bi-racial granddaughter. Her prejudice will bite her someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;So now I'm officially unemployed, laid off, not working (...hmmm, I don't like the sound of those.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;So now I'm temporarily a lady of leisure. (much better!) Monday I'll go to the employment office and let them know. I'll see what kind of pittance I have earned while I'm being this lady of leisure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou's calling, she needs something. I forgot for a brief minute. Housewives/caregivers don't get leisure time! lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8307015770448963958?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8307015770448963958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8307015770448963958&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8307015770448963958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8307015770448963958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-got-that-lovin-feelin.html' title='I got that lovin&apos; feelin&apos;...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-9061906499575660656</id><published>2009-08-27T23:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T00:02:26.872-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Although I'm someone whose expectations are fairly low all the time, especially when it comes to other people, I find myself still disappointed with them over and over again. I didn't think there would be a best wishes party with Dixie cups and paper plates, but since everyone knew that tonight was my last night at work, I thought I'd get at the very least a goodbye, or a wish of luck. But I got nothing. No hug, no "see ya 'round", nothing. In fact, it was as though nobody knew what to say to me. Except for one "Hi Stephanie" when I first arrived, they were quiet. I guess I just expect too much. Or maybe I'm a needy person. Or maybe even after all these years of having my feelings stepped on, they still aren't callused as much as I thought they were. Or maybe I got what I asked for when I first went full time there. I wanted to be thought of as "the cleaning girl", not a transgendered cleaning girl, just a cleaning girl. Cleaning girls aren't very high up on the corporate ladder of life. Girls in that low position don't get parties when they leave. Guess I was just one of the girls. The cleaning girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-9061906499575660656?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/9061906499575660656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=9061906499575660656&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/9061906499575660656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/9061906499575660656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/expectations.html' title='Expectations'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8409886550920442420</id><published>2009-08-27T09:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T10:42:09.739-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A preliminary verdict on the new meds.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;With only two doses in me, it's pretty early to judge what the long term effects will be. That is, if I can withstand taking them for very long! The Invega, a nerve pill I take during the day, seems to do it's job without any bad side effects. There's no groggy feeling, something I just can't stand. I want to be fully awake when the meteorite smashes me flat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Now the Vistaril (oops, got it wrong in a previous blog), hydroxyzine pamoate for sleep, is another story. It puts me at a point of sleep where my dreams are VERY plentiful and vivid, can be scary, both real and unreal happenings, and there is a lot of sexual nature to them. Not that I'm waking up with an overly 'enlarged clitoris', (a term used by Patty Lou's doctor the other day! I've got to get this woman as my Doc!) I think those days are long past! The sexual nature seems to be all about anal sex. (TMI,Too Much Information? yes, I think so) ...Anyhow, if this keeps up, I'll be looking forward to sleeping all the time and won't get anything accomplished! ...ahhhh, just kidding! I'll ask for something different. The sleep is very disruptive and I'm still tired in the morning. Can't the drug companies combine a six pack of beer and two joints in a legal pill form? ..arrrgh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou's been in a better mood lately. She's been up more trying to do things around the house. It's been a month since she broke her ankle, so I don't think she can hurt her it as easily as before. With that in mind, I'm not as protective of her as I was. She appreciates that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;And the job search continues...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8409886550920442420?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8409886550920442420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8409886550920442420&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8409886550920442420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8409886550920442420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/preliminary-verdict-on-new-meds.html' title='A preliminary verdict on the new meds.'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-8641466050352081283</id><published>2009-08-26T22:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T23:10:10.311-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm really not vindictive, but...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;A little over a month ago, just before I knew I was losing my job, the woman who held our contract in her hands came to me bitching that there had been 3 chewed pieces of gum in the trash can in the last stall in the ladies room for over a week. She wanted them removed. I knew they were there, but since nothing else had been thrown in the can I left them. I told her yes, and went and changed the bag in the can and I've made sure that the bags have been changed every day when anything at all was in them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I had an evil thought tonight. I sure wish I'd saved EVERY piece of chewed gum I found in all the trash cans in the past thirty days. It would make about a full can. I would leave them in her trash can on my way out! LMAO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-8641466050352081283?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/8641466050352081283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=8641466050352081283&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8641466050352081283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/8641466050352081283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-really-not-vindictive-but.html' title='I&apos;m really not vindictive, but...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-712572777533018108</id><published>2009-08-25T23:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:25:47.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctors appointment</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I went to get my new meds from the clinic today. Now they have me on Invega in the daytime, and Invistaril at night. They stopped the Serequel.Yeah! It made me feel like a zombie! I haven't tried the new ones yet. I may be wishing for the old! We'll see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;While I was there, I wanted them to go over my blood work I had done three weeks ago. I thought they ordered my estrogen count, but no, just testosterone and two others I have no clue what they were for, even though two different doctors explained them to me. Doctor language is not part of my vocabulary. My T is at 16, so I'm taking enough spiro (100mg), but I still don't know about the estrogen. I wanted to know because if I was taking a high dosage (4mg orally, 100mic patch changed twice a week) I might could get by with less, financial problems and all. I couldn't see my doctor, so I saw Patty Lou's, a woman doc. She checked my boobs, which when I told Patty Lou, she thought that was just hilarious! I can't see why! Her doctor couldn't understand why my doc wouldn't prescribe my hormones through the clinic. (he gave me no explanation) She did put a note in my file that I should be referred to the trans program at UAMS. It's the big teaching hospital in Little Rock where my therapist wants me to be her subject, Patty Lou's ankle got fixed there too. So, in a long, round about way, maybe I will eventually get the help I need. Why couldn't someone tell me about this 30 years ago?! ...sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;On the work front, I have three days left. It struck me funny tonight why I'm so upset about losing a job where I clean poop off of toilets! ...I won't miss that! ...just my girlfriends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Thanks goes to you girls trying to cheer me up. I love y'all!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-712572777533018108?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/712572777533018108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=712572777533018108&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/712572777533018108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/712572777533018108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/doctors-appointment.html' title='Doctors appointment'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1999012855701748132</id><published>2009-08-24T10:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T11:36:15.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Implosion, implosion, explosion</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;This is not going to be a good week for me. With my job ending, I'm at a loss as to what to do next. The girls at work are going to have me crying every time I look at them. They are "Stephanie's" friends, my first friends, not "Steven's". I think you understand. Most of them never saw me before transition, and the few who did, never paid any attention to the goofy looking man that was doing the cleaning. It's going to hurt me terribly to say goodbye, especially since I have no other women in my so called real life but them, oh, and Patty Lou. It's going to be a sad time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou's been a hand full lately. I know she's bored silly having to sit around the house, but she cannot walk using her crutches, so she's mostly confined to her wheelchair or recliner. She's being very demanding, picky, grumpy, ....sigh. This has me holding my tongue as best as I can, but eruptions still surface. I keep thinking, "this will all end, hang on", but it's getting very difficult to do. I see no light at the end of the tunnel. When I do, it will be a train. Hope it's going slow, I may decide to hop on!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;My Florida daughter has screwed her marriage up. Some of you know I'm not a big fan of the prejudice, homophobic husband, but he did take good care of her, and I'd like to see them stay together. That's not going to happen now. Third husband, third infidelity by her. She thinks the grass is always greener on the other side. Hell, I'm standing on the other side! It ain't green! ...sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;That's enough of my drearies. I write this for me as a record. So if I bring someone down (you know who) just quit reading. Someday I'll be cheerful again. Maybe...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1999012855701748132?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1999012855701748132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1999012855701748132&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1999012855701748132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1999012855701748132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/implosion-implosion-explosion.html' title='Implosion, implosion, explosion'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-83001890998678907</id><published>2009-08-22T09:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T10:23:01.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another bruise</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Vultures circling overhead, doesn't mean the body is a corpse yet. I may be wounded, but if I was afraid of pain, I would never have transitioned. When fists were used to beat me, I absorbed their pain into me, making me stronger. The laughter aimed at me, callused my heart, protecting it from hurt. Evil words were thrown at me, each fortifying my resistance to them. Do I feel the fists, hear the laughter, hear the words still? Certainly. But they are only a nuisance, nothing but a bruise. It's healing will only make me stronger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-83001890998678907?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/83001890998678907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=83001890998678907&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/83001890998678907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/83001890998678907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-another-bruise.html' title='Just another bruise'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-3227436829956572090</id><published>2009-08-22T01:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T01:20:21.452-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Advise</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;For all of you full time girls, I give you this advise. When all your friends and acquaintances smile at you and tell you how glad they are for you that your transitioning, be aware that smiling faces tell lies. When you really need them, they won't come to your rescue, you will be on your own. Suddenly, you won't be seen as a brave girl who is finally being able to become herself, you will be a crazy man in a dress, someone to avoid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-3227436829956572090?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/3227436829956572090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=3227436829956572090&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3227436829956572090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/3227436829956572090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/advise.html' title='Advise'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5838708390903571034</id><published>2009-08-21T15:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T16:01:51.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In need of a break</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I haven't gone to Jesters (bar) in over a month, so I'm gonna put on my glad rags and see if I can find me a night of decadent distraction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333300;"&gt;Meanwhile, sing it girls!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Walkin' down this rocky road&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;wondering where my life is leadin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Rollin' on, to the bitter end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Finding out along the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;what it takes to keep love (on) living&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;you should know, how it feels my friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;....chorus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Ohh, I want you to stay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Ohh, I want you today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;I'm ready for love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Oh baby, I'm ready for love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Ready for love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Oh baby, I'm ready for love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Ohhh, for your love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Now I'm on my feet again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Better things are bound to happen'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;All my dues, surely must be paid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Many miles and many tears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Times were hard but now they're changin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;You should know, that I'm not afraid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;....chorus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;_________________Bad Company&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5838708390903571034?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5838708390903571034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5838708390903571034&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5838708390903571034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5838708390903571034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-need-of-break.html' title='In need of a break'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-1349579833562545766</id><published>2009-08-19T23:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T23:55:12.674-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Long day</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;First, Patty Lou had her ankle X-ray'd and they said it's healing fine. She has to keep the cast on for another 3 weeks, then she may get a walking boot. I hope so, she wants to get up and go, anywhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;On our way to her appointment, I got pulled over by one of our state troopers. I saw that he was giving a ticket to someone, and the law does say that I'm suppose to get into the other lane as not to get too close to him as I pass, but that lane had two cars coming up so fast that I was afraid to get into it. He was nice enough to just give me a warning ticket, probably because he saw Patty Lou's cast. Idiot!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I had my therapy session this evening, if you want to call it that. I'm getting nothing in the way of therapy out of it. She has her own agenda wanting me to be her show-and-tell piece for her class of studying new therapists. Right now, I need therapy, badly. The stuff that is within us that holds us all together is in short supply in me. I'm screaming for help and nobody is listening. Mental health care in this miserable state of Arkansas sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;It's almost midnight, I've been up since 4:30 am, and I still want to read your posts. Your my best therapy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-1349579833562545766?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/1349579833562545766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=1349579833562545766&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1349579833562545766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/1349579833562545766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/long-day.html' title='Long day'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5368684537614764963</id><published>2009-08-18T22:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T22:38:23.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Car update</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;The nice guy was the mechanic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;The owner of the place was an ass!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;$423 for a fuel pump.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;He won't be getting my business anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I'm up before the butt crack of dawn tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou has a doctors appointment in Little Rock for her ankle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Time for bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5368684537614764963?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5368684537614764963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5368684537614764963&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5368684537614764963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5368684537614764963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/car-update.html' title='Car update'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-5499924312351569139</id><published>2009-08-17T22:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T23:30:15.695-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Strike 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;They say bad things happen in 3's, so I've been waiting for number 3. I don't have to wait any longer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;My old GMC Jimmy has been getting hard to start, well, sometimes. Sometimes it would start right up, then other times it would take awhile to kick off. I got to the second building I had to clean tonight and it decided that that was where it would stay. Not starting, I had Patty Lou call the mechanic directly across the street from the main building I clean, and had him call me. He called a tow truck to get it to his shop, came and picked me up, and I waited for my step mother-in-law to give me a ride back out in the country so I could get my truck and finish work tonight. The truck is on it's last leg too. ...sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Patty Lou slipped with my name telling him it was Steven. So while on the phone he talked to me as a man. When I got in his truck he says, "You don't look like a Steven." After me telling him I was transgender, he changed his entire attitude. (for the better) From then on, I was 'Honey' and 'Sweetie', and, "I'm going to help you out, it's going to be alright darling." I couldn't believe how his demeanor changed after he saw me. It was all good. I was a woman in need, and him being a slow talkin' southern gentleman, he was going to take care of me. He's going to call tomorrow and tell me what's wrong. I'll see how much he cares when I get the bill for this! So far it's $60 for a 2 block tow charge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-5499924312351569139?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/5499924312351569139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=5499924312351569139&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5499924312351569139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/5499924312351569139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/strike-3.html' title='Strike 3'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-7643754247881504878</id><published>2009-08-17T13:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T13:44:32.741-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a rant</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;When I try to sign up for something on the internet and it asks for a user name, if I give it one that is already being used, it kicks it back to me and asks for another one. Why then can a company use the same address as another making it a journey through hell to find them on the internet. Can they not be given a number or something so you can go directly to their site? Apparently, they want to see just how tenacious you are in your search if you are looking to find a job with them. Arrrghhh!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-7643754247881504878?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/7643754247881504878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=7643754247881504878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7643754247881504878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/7643754247881504878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-rant.html' title='Just a rant'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6241957753216392454.post-6564819402367685969</id><published>2009-08-16T22:43:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T23:34:51.664-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Patty Lou, ten miles high!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Over the years of my drinking and drugging to excess, Patty Lou wasn't just sippin' tea, she joined right in there too. But she was the one that kept things under control. Unlike me, she always knew when she'd had enough. When she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, she quit drinking all together. Her only vice now is about a joint a day, and a pack of cigarettes, which I never smoked, and wish she didn't. I was smoking about 2 joints a day, but since I'm going to be out of work, and most employers want you to take a drug test, I quit the day I found out I'd be unemployed. (damn I want a joint!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Now, with that said...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;When she broke her ankle, they gave her a prescription for percocet. When her ankle has been hurting, she takes them very sparingly, even breaking them in half, so she doesn't just fall asleep when it hits her. Good idea? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Sorta...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;If you met her, you'd soon realize that this girl has fun all the time. She's one of those happy people, happy, happy, happy, that laughs and giggles all day long. If I'm still around, I'm going to put on her headstone, "She Died Laughing!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Now when you take someone like that and add percocet, (which she said she likes a lot!) you get a silly, fun loving, wise cracking woman, who is just looking for someone to have fun with. Trouble is, I'm the only someone here, and I haven't been feeling like having fun. After a while, I just want to scream, "Hey, I'm nursing my depression here!" ...sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;I don't know what I'd do without her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;Stephanie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6241957753216392454-6564819402367685969?l=stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/feeds/6564819402367685969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6241957753216392454&amp;postID=6564819402367685969&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6564819402367685969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6241957753216392454/posts/default/6564819402367685969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephaniejuststephanie.blogspot.com/2009/08/patty-lou-ten-miles-high.html' title='Patty Lou, ten miles high!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02903540438864171068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5JmfQDqhv0/TXQrMv875HI/AAAAAAAAAR0/sVkqa7EHcg8/s220/f185.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
