When I was young they'd feed me fairy tales, and this goes on til I'm old and gray
After I had blood drawn at the doctor's, I stopped by the S-L Pantry for a beverage supplement to the pop-tarts I brought along. I wondered for a long time where the name came from until one day while waiting for the bus I put it together that it's on the corner of Sheridan and Lawrence. Not one of my MacArthur Fellowship moments. It's the type of convenient store that still stocks 3-liter bottles of soda and sells items without tax or at least everything conveniently rounds up. My pint of chocolate milk was only one dollar even -- probably because my man was too lazy to deal with coins. I had to excuse myself past two men discussing truly taking Jesus into your heart and the larger meaning in society of such a task. Their enthusiasm intrigued me, but I was still happy to have my headphones on which often excuses some anti-social behavior.
On the train platform, I was extremely disappointed to learn that I had accidentally selected the pouch of chocolate pop-tarts instead of the strawberry ones. But I ate them anyway.
It's cold. Extremely cold. And dry. And windy. And sunny. It reminds me of half of my days here in Chicago, especially the hours waiting on platforms for trains.
I noticed on my medical chart that my cholesterol when taken in November was 124 total. And my HDL levels were 35. Of course, this was before the holidays when all dietary reforms went out the window (and I still haven't improved), but I've also been more consistent at taking my medication, so they're probably about the same. My total count has never been a problem, since it's always been well under 200, but I'm glad my HDL levels went up since they were previously 12 or something small like that.
And for some reason improvement in this category makes me feel I can buy credibility with the doctor. Like he'd be less likely to be convinced I should change my hormone dosage, or at least how it's administered, if I was unable to maintain good blood pressure, cholesterol counts and weight. Which is somewhat ridiculous -- it's not like I'm lying or trying to trick him into raising my dose with some bizarre hopes of making something happen. I'm technically only at half-dose right now, compared to the average transguy. And at first I didn't mind that some of my masculinizing slowed down, possibly even leveled off, since so many changes were happening. But now I'm anxious to resume.
My new mixer is fabulous and I had fun last night though Damon might have enjoyed it more than I did. By the time he left I was tired of all music, especially the records he was looping to death. Sometimes it hard to talk to him about making beats since not only are our styles and interests different, but now I'm starting to have some concrete knowledge and aplications behind my ideas, so I think/see things differently. Which is not a huge problem -- I'm generally quite capable of having conversations with people when I know more about the topic then they do -- it's just strange to see it unfold. Especially since I originally learned so much from him.
And thus concludes the Raymond sampler platter.
On the train platform, I was extremely disappointed to learn that I had accidentally selected the pouch of chocolate pop-tarts instead of the strawberry ones. But I ate them anyway.
It's cold. Extremely cold. And dry. And windy. And sunny. It reminds me of half of my days here in Chicago, especially the hours waiting on platforms for trains.
I noticed on my medical chart that my cholesterol when taken in November was 124 total. And my HDL levels were 35. Of course, this was before the holidays when all dietary reforms went out the window (and I still haven't improved), but I've also been more consistent at taking my medication, so they're probably about the same. My total count has never been a problem, since it's always been well under 200, but I'm glad my HDL levels went up since they were previously 12 or something small like that.
And for some reason improvement in this category makes me feel I can buy credibility with the doctor. Like he'd be less likely to be convinced I should change my hormone dosage, or at least how it's administered, if I was unable to maintain good blood pressure, cholesterol counts and weight. Which is somewhat ridiculous -- it's not like I'm lying or trying to trick him into raising my dose with some bizarre hopes of making something happen. I'm technically only at half-dose right now, compared to the average transguy. And at first I didn't mind that some of my masculinizing slowed down, possibly even leveled off, since so many changes were happening. But now I'm anxious to resume.
My new mixer is fabulous and I had fun last night though Damon might have enjoyed it more than I did. By the time he left I was tired of all music, especially the records he was looping to death. Sometimes it hard to talk to him about making beats since not only are our styles and interests different, but now I'm starting to have some concrete knowledge and aplications behind my ideas, so I think/see things differently. Which is not a huge problem -- I'm generally quite capable of having conversations with people when I know more about the topic then they do -- it's just strange to see it unfold. Especially since I originally learned so much from him.
And thus concludes the Raymond sampler platter.
Girl you are to me, all that a woman should be.
:P