The first time Delia told me she loved me was 15 years ago … the day my dad died. I wish he’d been able to know her … he would have loved her so much. Their loving kindness and senses of humour are so exceptional and similar.
And just over ten years ago, near Mother’s Day of 2007, is when Delia decided to transition. My memory of that day and her announcing this beautiful change is one of the happiest and most hopeful, joyful memories in my whole entire life.
A post shared by Trixie Fontaine (@tastytrixie) on
I fervently wish for everyone to be able to be their best, happiest, truest, most green-growing radiantly-thriving selves, and be surrounded by love, safety and the certainty that we all want the very best for each other, and allow each other the freedom to determine what is best for themselves. It may not be true today, and it doesn’t seem probable … but it is possible, and I want to focus on believing that kernel of goodness is in everyone as much as our capacity for fear, willfully self-centered comfortable ignorance, and cruelty.
Just got home last night. Been gone way too much this month: almost half the month. One of one of my orchid’s buds burst open while I was gone.
I have a lot of catching up to do with the blackcaps and other berries in the backyard.
The amount of good I feel from yardwork (which for me is very slow and meditative and not super productive) is HUGE. Cutting back prickly little vines and salal reaching too far into pathways. Moving small piles of the prickly vines & leaves from wherever to The Big Pile. Watering & pulling weeds occasionally.
Here’s a glimpse of one of the things we did while I was in Seattle:
I love my wife in long knit maxi dresses. JOIN NOW for all of her “tenting” pics & videos!
Other things I did over the weekend in Seattle:
called 911 on the way after neighbor called to alert me to suspicious dude on our property
felt super grateful for how much lithium orotate is helping my brain because without it I would never have been able to hold multiple stressful conversations on the phone while in crowded ferry terminal, WALKING, etc.
we celebrated a belated mother’s day with my mom
took her to brunch at Salty’s & cruised Alki afterwards
watched Hello My Name is Doris
resolved to watch more movies in our building’s theater room
walked through & past all of the drunk Mariners fans & the stadium(s)
finally bought contemptible vaping supplies for easier consumption of headache medicine. And stuff.
grudgingly became a convert to vaping
restrained myself from impulsive potential porno opportunity with beautiful young man
regretted so thoroughly restraining myself
played games on my phone while Delia listened to streaming Phish concerts
tried not to feel bad about spending money on a spa day
I haven’t been there in over a year … jesus!
had a PMS-exacerbated rare pouty spat with Delia upon my return
was again super grateful for the lithium keeping me way more balanced than I’d normally be … and for how calm Delia is about such things (although super frustratingly yet blessedly impossible to actually FIGHT with)
we put a date night with each other on the calendar: too much of our time with each other lately has been work or family or just trying to recover from work &/or family
enjoyed lunch Delia prepared & amazing view with each other on the top floor of our building
A photo posted by Trixie Fontaine (@tastytrixie) on
got ORCA cards
even with research online, was prepared for it to be more difficult than it should be
no white people in positions where they should be able to help folks procure ORCA cards knew fuck all about how to go about it; black guy whose job it was not to help me (pretty sure he was a ferry boat captain), helped me with MULTIPLE options and very clear instructions & directions for each of them
Plastic eggs make sweet Easter tree-jewels! People make things humbly special in our town. Less like strip malls, more like old-fashioned home. And it is home to me, so of course I was here alone for Easter time, wandering around outside enjoying springtime.
A couple of days later Delia (my wife) came home to me and we had the BEST time. Since we’ve basically been living and working in different places for a couple of years — her in our Seattle studio, me in our out-here home — we’re finally getting the hang of taking REAL DAYS OFF TOGETHER (instead of everything overlapping with work as self-employed work-at-home webwhores). Taking real days off together makes me very happy.
We did a bunch of errands and stopped at the self-serve farmstand bursting with daffodils and other flowers, and a book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time (Oryx and Crake) was in the free book box.
For dinner we drove to our favorite place to get burgers in the next town over. We love sitting in our car to eat, especially when the sky is so blue and the temperature promisingly warm without being hotter than blazes.
Usually part of our burger date includes stopping on the way home at the lot full of used cars, trucks, boats, trailers and RV’s. We like to just walk around and look at what’s there. But the lot was pretty empty and we were tired and ready to get home so Delia decisively declined when I asked if she wanted to do the usual.
So we drove straight home stopping only for some groceries.
And when we were less than a mile from home … our car stopped running.
Pulled over on the side of the road, she tried to get it to start again. She checked a couple of things under the hood, couldn’t find anything obvious wrong, and wanted to stay and work on it … but I wanted to walk home so I could pee and not worry about it for awhile, and come back with clearer heads. I had to talk her into that part (it’s always interesting when Delia is a: really decisive/not super flexible feeling, and/or b: anxious … because it’s rare she’s either of those things and I kind of enjoy the way our roles change when that happens).
The whole time Delia & I have been together we’ve only driven old &/or beater cars that were given to us for free or sold to us for cheap; as a result we have enough practice with cars breaking down (and Delia is often able to fix them herself or at least knows enough about what’s wrong to make good decisions about paying for repairs). At this point it’s one of the few things that doesn’t give me the kind of anxiety attack you’d expect and just sort of makes me feel grateful because so far it’s never put us in a super dangerous situation, and this car especially has managed to break down maybe half a dozen times but always delivers us VERY CLOSE TO HOME or right where we can get help without causing a traffic nightmare before it gives up, even when we’ve been on long treks a hundred+ miles away.
We came back later as it grew dark and she tried and tried a bunch of things. But honestly my mind was pretty much made up to retire this car. There were a bunch of problems with it, including the transmission, and I didn’t want to worry about it breaking down anymore. It has served us really well. It was a relief and a sign to me when it broke down this time. But Delia felt a bit stressed out about it.
The role reversal of her overthinking and spinning her wheels while I am calm and at peace with a decision makes me feel a lot of tenderness for her, and gratitude for the ways we balance each other out. The moments when I am not crazy and struggling with her soothing me are FEW, so it’s a relief when *I* am sure, and *I* am calm.
Me: we’ve broken down a lot together. And everything’s been ok!@DeliaTS: we have! I’ve broken down with you more than anyone else!
Growing is hard work, and out of your control a lot of times. It happens whether you think you’re ready or not.
I truly want to grow and think I have a pretty great attitude about it, but I don’t. Not completely: I want to be in charge of WHAT changes, HOW MUCH … WHEN and towards what (perfect) ends.
The good news: I might be past the worst of my midlife crisis, and am embracing good changes. Want to read about them? This month (National Bike Month, coincidentally) I’ll post more here about a significant lifestyle change we made at the end of March right as my grandma died (which was harder for me because of other family issues it brought up than actually losing my grandma) and this crazy overheated early spring unfolded … AND as the person I’ve been spending the most time with other than my wife decided to move out of state for a new job.
AND PRINCE DIED! Maybe that has nothing to do with me and I shouldn’t take that loss so personally, but his passing has been a touchstone of grief and strengthening wellspring of affirmation and inspiration at the same time.
It’s been chilly and super windy recently; felt like I might have jumped the gun on calling it an early spring, but either way … it will be official on Sunday. Regardless: I was SO FUCKING STOKED that our nearby taco cart opened back up … ’tis the season!!!
The sun feels good on the backs of my legs while I wait for my tostada salad with fish
Tomorrow is my birthday so consider this me wearing green in reverse. Or green wearing my shadow?
Card for our friends to get their feet washed & massaged by us
Today is the only full day I’ve had to myself in awhile … so I’m capping it off with some NATURAL sleeping pills, a noodle binge … and a sickening return to Candy Crush after keeping it off my phones for years now:
Noodle binge time!! two bowls of greasy noodles & my gut in polar fleece in foreground.
White bowl: thin spaghetti with olive oil, salt, parmesan cheese & capers
Orange bowl: thin spaghetti with sesame oil, chili oil, and (later) soy sauce
Happy birthday to me!!! I’m planning to FULLY exploit my wife when she gets home for a couple of days (don’t worry; she’s looking forward to it as much as I am!), and then I’ll spend a few days with my favorite guy. Although all of that could change if my grandma dies, which could happen very soon.
We thought she was going to depart last year, but dying is an unpredictable business. Still, I feel like I said my goodbyes to her at that point so right now I’m saving my family-grief energies for my mom during the after-part rather than hurrying to make another trip to see Grandma at her most breathing-yet-absent. It may sound like I have a lot of clarity and resolve about this, but honestly I don’t know what the right thing is to do. I don’t feel a pull to go be with her but I do feel some pushing in me to AVOID. You might say the right thing is to go see her — that I’ll regret it if I don’t and she dies before I get to — but honestly I don’t think I will. I might feel *guilty* — concerned what other people think — but that’s not the same thing as genuine regret. I don’t think Grandma will know the difference either way. Then again, that does feel a little like a lie to suit myself because I am certain she knew I was there last time and that it meant something to her.
My mom & dad on their Valentine’s Day wedding in the sixties
Seeing who I come from — thinking about who these people are/were, and who they raised me to be (and loved me INTO being) — is a good reminder to try to be the best of who I *am*, instead of struggling to be better at being more like other people, or trying to give people what I think they want or need instead of what I have and who I really am. I have so many of my parents’ limitations and their gifts – when I look at them with love and realism, I can be kinder: more loving towards myself. More honest with myself.
I’ve been thinking a lot about love as privilege in the past year or so (and privilege and love in general).
I’ve also been circling back to my childhood and young adult years, reflecting on how I experience love and intimacy and connections most profoundly, and where there are gaps and raw little injuries I keep re-experiencing, and accepting that even though I’ve been (and am) really fortunate when it comes to loving and being loved, I still need to puke vomit gag “love myself more” if I’m going to thrive (be the best, happiest, most free, most positive and contributing version of my human self I can be) and make the MOST of my good fortune and unique gifts.
Mommy: 20, Daddy: 32
I’m thinking right now of what it means to be fruitful and multiply. How hard they worked to bring us into being and how they did their very best. Not that any of us believe literally in crazy bible shit like that (or that it has any relevance to us today: OBVIOUSLY NOT), or that they took us to church; they didn’t (though that church they’re standing in is where I was baptized and where my sister’s first wedding was and is a powerfully beautiful place that figures prominently in my values and development – that church is part of my home, even though we didn’t belong to it).
I am meant to bear fruit. I am meant to do things that result in exponential increases of abundance. I believe we ALL are meant for that. I need to accept with celebratory unapologetic abandon and leaps of faith that I can’t follow off-the-shelf mainstream/normal-person blueprints for that.
I don’t want to love or live a little.
I want to — and I do — love a lot. With fires baptisms feasts famines DEEP QUIET HIBERNATION PERIODS debauchery pestilence dreams deafness sacrifice communion peace oil foot-washing long walks alone VISIONS (hallucinations) long silent walks together temple-building and being laid low over and over and over to be resurrected again and again and again. With trances prayers uncontrollable dancing tics dramatic little speeches blessings levitation transmogrification cave-dwelling and secret walks in the garden, just me and Jesus alone. Just you, and I. With stories and songs delivered especially to/for children. With radiant naked trust and fear-blasted visages and loyal marriage to my own pleasure. And confession and absolute loving forgiveness that we are all just human monster saint angels.
This song is so annoying-sounding, but the lyrics/concept are about having your need for love and attention and comforting acceptance exclusively met all night long:
I believe that I am made in the image of “God” because I don’t know you, but I love you. And I *do* know you. We know each other. The reason you are reading this or anything about people on the internet is to feed an emotional and spiritual hunger. Don’t be shy. I love that about you. We love that about each other.
We believe in magic and bullshit and making babies. Or just masturbating alone on Valentine’s day watching the tubes, like I did today. Together. We are all one body. We are all alone. Happy Valentine’s Day. If it sucks, use your imagination. Get religion. Get a call girl. Or a camgirl. Listen to Hozier all night if you want to. There’s some pretty good stuff in the world. If you can’t find any of it, have a tender conversation talking to your divine little self. Hold your own hand. Do it in earnest.
Welcome to my blog and homemade porn site! I've been a proud WebWhore since the year 2000; I plan to make porn for the rest of my life! I hope you enjoy exploring my personal site whether it's getting to know me through my words or seeing me naked in my pictures, videos and webcams!-Trixie