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Moving on, or Rawhide, or Something

So here I am, typing online. If you’ve tried to reach me in the last week or two, I’ve probably responded by now. Which you probably already know. So why am I talking about it? No particular reason. I was just offline for a bit. I do that sometimes. Now I’m back, until the next time.

Meanwhile, I’m in the midst of moving to San Antonio. Or…well, I’m already in San Antonio. I guess I’m in the midst of moving family and associated clutter down here with me. But not any of these words–nope; they live in cyberspace and don’t need to budge. So that’s settled. Good.

In other news, a longtime subscriber to this blog canceled her subscription b/c of the “Free Pagan Sex” post. Said it was offensive. Well, hell. Maybe I should charge money. That’d be better…right? Maybe even lots of money. While I’m at it.

Fun stuff going on here. We’re moving forward on becoming foster parents. Going through the standard process this time. That process isn’t enjoyable, but I expect the pitter-patter of little feet, and teenage rebellion, and occasional bits of food stuck to the carpets, will all be amusing me in a month or two. Kids are cool–they have functioning brains, mostly, but they just have no idea of context. So I guess trying to provide or refer to context will be my job. We’ve specified the 5-17 age range, no diapers please, with a preference for kids who have trouble finding places to go. Legal troubles, or other troubles. Sound like fun to you? It does to me. Might be periodically hellish for the kids, though. We’ll see.

Okay, here’s a thing: a few weeks ago I spent several hours sitting with a distraught transgendered teen, discussing her love life and a recent blow thereto. I wanted to be there, doing that very thing. The conversation seemed to help her. But I have to tell you, I didn’t know my life would head in that direction. A weird place to be, you know?

The thing is, her ex-boyfriend had arranged things so that I’d be there–and then he left. His explanation, given to me as he walked out the door, was that he talked to me about “that stuff” when he was upset, which has been true for several years now…so he thought she should too. Didn’t think talking to her himself would do any good. Maybe it wouldn’t? Beats me.

By the way? Explaining just how far he’d gone in a new relationship, and providing a general update as to the activities he had planned for the evening…were (with malice aforethought) left up to me. See, she was coming home and expected us both to be there. I could give her the bad news. Or I could lie. Or I could duck out and let her come home to an empty house. Whichever I wanted. Free choice! Right?

Now. Was that a dick move, on his part? Yes. Clearly. But sort of flattering. And funny. Too. I even admire the maneuver, in an I’ll-get-him-back-for-that-one sort of way. Evidence for that: weeks later, I’m still laughing about it. Also, the kids are together again, already. They move fast, in all directions, at that age.

And, surprisingly often, they seem to want a bit of advice, or maybe some of that context I was talking about, or a sympathetic ear. The ones I’ve been dealing with don’t even mind when I laugh at them…as long as I explain the joke, anyway. Will others react similarly? Maybe. Maybe not.

Is this post disjointed? Yeah, I think so. So is my life, of late. Lots of flux, lots of energy, lots of not knowing what’s next.

My family and I are doing well, as we judge these things, and I hope all of you are too. Book-writing is a bit stalled. I expect that will change at some point. It generally does.

Meanwhile? Have fun out there!

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