May Day is special. For a lot of reasons, but a personal and professional one is that on May 1st, 2002 I opened the members-only area (the paysite/for-money part) of this site, TastyTrixie.com. So I have been making money on my indie porn site for SEVENTEEN YEARS today!
Happy anniversary to me, and thank you to all of you who’ve supported and enjoyed me and my work over the years.
Today I celebrated by launching my very first NON-ADULT (non-porn) website.
I’m keeping it completely separate from all of our naked, sexy and pornographic stuff, so I can’t tell you what it is. But you can read more about my new site (and why I’m excited about it) here on WebWhore101.
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.
It was a sunny day so we did one of my favorite together-things; took our car to the car wash & vacuumed it out! But first Delia told me to go out back and look around.
Some of my sweet favorites!
She got me bunny bubbles and other treats!
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.
All of these years together and the more time that passes, the more I feel like everything’s going to be okay. And that everything is so much BETTER than okay right now.
It probably seems like nothing is happening, but … somethings ARE happening, and I’m excited as I keep practicing letting them take shape with less fear, healthier priorities (and FEWER priorities), and more faith and confidence.
Thanks for your patient, curious, and loving support of me/us!
Note: I was in a bad mood when I started this post, but writing it adjusted my attitude to CRAZY INVINCIBILITY by the end!
My mid-life crisis anxiety has been so revved up over money challenges, fear of failure, our biological clocks ticking, overwhelming necessary work transitions/reinventions, social/interpersonal sadness, and feelings of incompetence that I got fixated on how I’m about to turn 42 . . . to the point where I started thinking I already *am* 42, and was telling people I’m 42, and about to turn 43.
But I’m still 41! For a couple more days.
The whole trying-to-get-pregnant thing (with doctors who are younger than I am looking at me like, “lady you better HURRY UP if you’re serious about this, because you are fucking OLD! Do you know how old you are? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re REALLY PUSHING IT, Grandma”) amped up my fear to the point where all I could think is that I’m too old . . . and just getting older. That it’s too late for alllllll of the good things I want, and all the good things I want to be. That tons of doors are shutting all around me. My time is up – I squandered it. Wasted my youth, my privilege, my health, my IDENTITY. Now I just have to figure out how to make do really fast and SAVE us from all of our debt.
This was supposed to be a happy-go-lucky positive-thinking post where I talked about OH WOW SEE ALL THAT NEGATIVE THINKING JUST MADE ME AGE MYSELF PREMATURELY AND I’M AS YOUNG AS I FEEL AND I CAN FEEL *GREAT* AS LONG AS I TURN THIS FROWN UPSIDE DOWN AND RECOGNIZE THAT I’M JUST AS FULL OF POTENTIAL AS I WAS TEN OR FIFTEEN OR TWENTY YEARS AGO IF NOT *MORE* AND YAY SO HAPPY AND EXCITED ABOUT EVERYTHING!!!
Guessing I need to not work myself up into having more attachments to big dreams, but to surrendering to just being happy with what IS, right now; I have white hairs sprouting up in my pubes, and I don’t actually just LIKE having text on my kindle enlarged to hugeness . . . I need bifocals or reading glasses to wear with my contacts because I’m becoming farsighted in addition to my already-deeply blurred life with this astigmatism and near-sightedness.
And my neck. My motherfucking NECK! How did I not see these ghastly loose flabby neck wrinkles coming?!? They’re in my genes and I made it worse by gaining and losing so much weight. Yes, forty extra pounds is MUCH WEIGHT. I’ll tell you more about that in more explicit pictures one of these days.
I hate it when people bitch about shit like this. I hate how much I’m doing and saying stuff that I hate.
I don’t want to be pretty. I never really did. What I wanted was to be immortal.
Apparently I don’t know how to make realistic goals.
But wait, THAT’S NOT TRUE!! I mean, it’s true many of my goals and dreams are unrealistic, but FUCK IT – our lives are awesome because we do shit most realistic people don’t have the balls to do.
I used to be 5’2″ until I made it a goal to be 5’3″ in my thirties. GUESS WHAT?? I’m an inch taller! I made myself taller. IT’S THE TRUTH!!
And speaking of even more fantastical transformations: this is my wife, Delia, now:
Delia showing off her tits in Vegas.
This was my wife twelve years ago:
There was so much more to her transition than gender presentation.
Fuck “reality”. What a stupid cage. I’m going for immortal.
And thanking Delia (who NEVER complains about getting older, or any of the myriad challenges much bigger than mine that she meets with sweetness and serenity) for it. And remembering that there are a lot of people who can’t just *think* themselves into being healthier and happier. I want to get rid of our debts so we can do more to help other people.
My birthday is on St. Patrick’s Day / Tuesday the 17th … there’s a 42% chance I’ll be on cam if you want to say happy birthday (and look at my big boobs)! I may even do a very affordable gold show, so keep an eye on my twitter feed to see if/when I might log in.