Miss Canada

I have held off blogging for a few weeks as I have been busy trying to finish a freelance project and because I knew that I would soon have some real news to share.

Two weeks ago I heard from the Provincial Ministry of Health that I had received approval for surgery. All I then needed was a letter from my doctor and some medical forms to fill out.

Today (yes Saturday) I received an e-mail from the office of Drs. Menard and Brassard office saying that July 1^st is to be my date for SRS surgery. Somewhat shocked I got a response so quickly (they had said mid-week they might have an answer) it took a few minutes for me to process the information.

I immediately started texting friends and thinking about all the arrangements necessary for me to travel to Montreal. It hadn’t occurred to me but my friend D pointed out that the first was Canada Day, hence the title of this post!

My first visit to CAMH was October 2009, it took almost nine months to get into see them.

I started hormones in March 2010. It took six months to find a sympathetic doctor.

I started this blog August 18^th, 2010. In my first post I wrote that I hoped my road might be a freeway. There have been a few traffic jams but the destination is now in sight.

I didn’t go full time till September31, 2011 due to employment issues.     

It is hard to believe surgery is just over two months away. The gap between some of these dates doesn’t seem that long but at the time seemed huge. The challenges seemed insurmountable too but here I am. So soon but light years away from the child who laid in bed praying to God to wake up a girl.

I am a pessimist at heart so I can’t help worrying about last minute complications, accidents, problems, that could prevent me from reaching my goal. You know like being caught up in a freak elephant accident or something.

I am of course excited, so please bear with me as I know many have already written about this portion of their journey and the story is somewhat old hat. I am also aware of the pain that those of you who are still on the road and struggling to make progress feel.

I hope that all of you can soon feel the joy I am feeling now.

Hugs,

April

Here is one of my favorite later tunes by the Cramps, and surprisingly appropriate:

 

PS. the photo is of Miss Canada 1966 with a Canadian made Clairtone "G" stereo...cool eh?

Million Dollar Compliment

Once again I am apologizing for my absence, not that I haven't kept up with the adventures of my bloggers in arms.

It was a tough week with some serious downs that I really don't want to talk about yet. In fact I was not going to post anything... till this morning.

I was up till the wee hours last night to meet a deadline for the first section of a major industry directory I am working on. Just enough time this morning to drink two very large coffees, make some last minute edits and then get ready for a dental appointment.

I drove the Jaguar which seems to have developed a mysterious tranny leak (no jokes please), just like the Thunderbird....ah the joys of vintage cars.  The sun has returned but no accompanying warm weather, in fact it snowed on April 1st! see photo below.

After my mostly routine appointment the receptionist out of the blue tells me I look, "absolutely stunning and gorgeous".  I was rather at a loss for words having rushed to get ready that morning and was still suffering the effects of having burnt the candle at both ends.  Nor was not wearing anything fancy just black jeans and a sweater.

She then asks where I am from, uh England I say, "Oh I would have thought you were Scandinavian being so tall and blonde"

I was taken aback as I thought everyone in the office was aware of my "past", clearly she was not as  
she asked about children and then complimented me on my figure and asked about my husband.

OK enough singing my own praises but I did feel like a million bucks driving home.

April Fools indeed

Time for some more tall blondes:

Insert Positive Message Here

I apologize dear readers for not posting for a while, I have some blog posts written and pictures and music to share but my heart has not been in it.

 

So instead let me leave you with some words of wisdom from Don Draper while I work on giving another under paid freelance blow job to an undeserving car company.

The universe is indifferent,

April

PS. Hope you all are watching the Walking Dead this evening, it’s a documentary right?

PSS. Sometimes despair gets the better of me (as some of my posts attest) and I want to surrender but I guess I am just a stubborn bitch who would rather die fighting.

 

Paris, Now Let's Go

Better Than Sex?

Beautiful sunny weekend here with plus degree temperatures that had the whole street come alive. Children on bikes and families talking with each other outside.

I was not the only one taking advantage of the warm weather to wash the winter grime from their cars. The Lincoln received a wash and vacuum as did "family truckster" Chrysler Town & Country. Took ages with extra fine steel wool to get the factory chrome rims clean of baked on brake dust. Ugh so much for my nails.

A weekend highlight was getting the 1977 Jaguar XJS out on Saturday. As the roads were dry I drove her to Oakville to help out at Genni's pub for a few hours.

The cool evening air meant I didn't have to worry about overheating issues (she runs great but I don't like where the temp gauge sits in hot weather. I want to upgrade to a bigger aluminium rad to avoid a summer traffic jam catastrophe.....the aluminum engine reacts fatally to overheating).

Anyway the V12 feels more like a jet turbine and makes me grin from ear to ear, blasting along in the fast lane then taking the off ramp at speed was an amazing feeling. This low mileage one owner car doesn't feel quite new but is darn close.

The XJS doesn't get the kudos or price of its seventies contemporaries, the Ferrari 400 or Lamborghini Espada but is easily their equal if not better.  I would go so far as comparing the XJS to the million dollar 1968-1973 Ferrari Daytona.

Pity mine is the colour of a seventies stove:

adult toy?

Ok prepare to get all misty eyed at this Jaguar sales film, I think I watched it twenty times in a row. Look for the famous number 44 racing XJS at 1:03 and Canadian cold weather testing at 2:25.

Hugs,

April

History of Speed or SPEED is History

On March 5, 2013, Fox Sports officially announced that it would re-launch Speed as Fox Sports 1. In corporate marketing speak that means the channel is history.  I don’t think I turned it on more than twice in the last few years.

After spending almost a decade making automotive television programs for the Charlotte based channel I can’t help feeling a degree of schadenfreude.

For someone obsessed by all things internal combustion the channel was pretty good back in the old Roger Werner, Speedvision days before being purchased by News Corp.

As an independent production company we lived or died by the decisions of Speed executives.  Each season we went through hell, left to wonder if our contract would be renewed. On a limited budget we created the best television possible, sometimes even creating something you might see on Britain’s Top Gear if they were having an off day.

We pitched killer ideas for new shows only to be met with blank stares of incomprehension, we would be asked to change it up but when we asked what they wanted they would say, “we don’t know but we will tell you if we see it.” No one at Speed was a car guy or gal.

In an effort to keep them happy we traveled to South Africa, France, Italy and Germany to capture new stories. We filmed inside Ferrari and Maserati  (I once owned a 3500 GT project car…or rather basket case but that is a tale for another time) we alternately froze and sweltered on racetracks across North America.

My real complaint is that the people running Speed were not car guys, in fact they had no idea about the topic their channel was dedicated to. In my many meetings and conference calls with Speed not one of the people I met with drove an interesting new car, raced, did their on wrenching or had a project car hidden in the garage. Plain Jane sedans and mini vans were the mainstay of Speeds parking lot.

Believe it or not I judged them even harsher then as I used cars as an emotional tool to block out the constant voices of transition in my head. Any man who did not have grease under his nails, spend all night in the garage working on a ground up restoration was beneath contempt. 

Could I have saved Speed if I was in charge of programming? Not sure but I would have made sure they had some real car shows.

True story:

On a spin off show we made for three seasons, the host reviewing an upmarket sport compact called it a real MILF car. We received a call from Speed after they saw the episode asking that we do not use obscure automotive terms that not all viewers might understand. 

Dispatches from the Front

It is amazing how a little sun can brighten ones mood. This winter has been a tough one, especially as we all got off so easy last year.

It was below freezing yesterday but the sun made it at least look like spring, birds were even singing. As the roads were dry I decided to charge the battery on the Thunderbird use my meager gas budget to pick up the children from school. No real difference in cost taking the T-Bird over the Lincoln as they are both powered by 460 cubic inch V8s.

The 73-76 T-Birds just seem to be smiling at you

The Thunderbird does seem to have a tighter torque converter and more responsive gearing so it is a blast to drive around town. The rear wheels want to break free at every traffic light when one has a heavy heel.

The rad might have a slight leak, so I am keeping my eye on that, I believe I have a spare from a 72 Mark IV tucked away somewhere. Free is good. 

The last two weeks have been busy pumping out a series of automotive business articles for Canadian AutoWorld, a dealer focused magazine.

The rest of the month is dedicated to a very difficult and time consuming edit project for an industry directory.

Certainly glad for the freelance work but my real goal remains a career position in marketing.

The Lincoln was in for an oil change, I usually do it myself but one it was too cold, two my friend had given me a coupon for a free service at a local garage. I arrived early and had a nice conversation with the shop owner. Lots of car magazines in the waiting room. He was a big MOPAR fan and we chatted about cars for ages, his quote, “You are a fascinating woman, I could talk to you all day.” And Is your husband into cars as well?”

Mark IV oil change, check out banana bike on wall! 

The seventies Stutz revival cars came up in conversation, wouldn’t you know it the magazine with my article on them was right in front of us sitting on top of a pile of Hot Rod magazines!  I so wanted to claim credit for the article but it had my old name on it.

Stutz Blackhawk prototype 

Speaking of names, my name change is all official right down to my drivers licence and health card. Passport next.

Good news from CAMH today that I am approved for surgery. Still very much hurry up and wait as their positive findings have to then be approved in turn by the Ministry of Health. Only then an appointment for surgery can be made.

Fingers crossed things move swiftly and smoothly as the T-Bird did yesterday afternoon.

Heard on the car radio last week, still sounds so clear and amazing for 1958.

Hugs,

April

PS. photo of me is from Sunday before I went grocery shopping, hate my massive forehead, which I try and hide most of the time, really want to get my hair line moved surgically.  

     

Diana Dors' 1959 Cadillac

 I always wanted to be a starlet….with apologies to Goodfellas.

I secretly idolized the blonde bombshells of the fifties, preferring Mamie Van Doren and Jayne Mansfield to the mainstream fascination with Ms. Monroe.

Then there was home grown Diana Dors. Like Jayne she had a thing for Cadillacs, a rarer trait in conservative Britain. Her most famous was her first, a 1955 series 62 baby blue convertible that she took with her to France. On the streets of London it caused a sensation, pastel and chrome, people ran after it having never seen something so cool.

I heard rumours she had a 1959 Cadillac like moi. One hire firm claimed to have a pink 59 Eldorado convertible that belonged to her. Seemed too good a story to be true, I had never seen any candid or publicity photos showing her with her over the top automotive counterpart. Last year I found a photo of her with just part of the rear fin visible, clearly a 59 but it could have been taken when she lived the States. Finally last night proof an official fan site. A 1959 series 62 convertible (not Eldorado), you can tell by the single row of teeth in the rear grill and Cadillac V and crest on the trunk lid it is not the very similar Eldorado model. The best part is the licence plate DD 200 !

It is a black and white picture…would it be too much to assume it was painted pink?

Extra:

Amazingly her house, Orchard Manor still stands much as it was in 1984 when she sadly died of cancer. Jayne’s pink palace was torn down. I hope Diana’s home survives and is not redeveloped. It is totally Hollywood and should be preserved as a historic site. http://www.dianadors.co.uk/orchard_manor_41.html

watch her bio pic here:

Hugs,

April

A Miraculous Journey

Reading The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane with my 10 year old.

The book is about the adventures of a china rabbit. But it is really about love.

I don’t think I have ever come across such a beautiful written story, which is all the more beautiful and a joy to read aloud.

Oh yes I cried and cried, once safely in my own room. I had trouble a few times carrying on reading, claiming I had some dust in my eye or perhaps I am getting a cold.  But such is the story that we gladly exceed story time by a few chapters.

At one point Edward is rescued and befriend by a tramp and his dog. The tramp whose name is Bull explains that he and his dog are lost. He did not mean lost in a geographic sense. That struck such a chord; I have felt so lost myself throughout my life but perhaps never more so than now.

Wishing you all happy endings….

photo Virgil and I

 Later that night, Jack came and sat next to Bull and asked if he could borrow the rabbit. Bull handed Edward over, and Jack sat with Edward upon his knee. He whispered in Edward’s ear.
“Helen,” Jack said, “and Jack Junior and Taffy — she’s the baby. Those are my kids’ names. They are all in North Carolina. You ever been to North Carolina? It’s a pretty state. That’s where they are. Helen. Jack Junior. Taffy. You remember their names, okay, Malone?”
After this, wherever Bull and Lucy and Edward went, some tramp would take Edward aside and whisper the names of his children in Edward’s ear. Betty. Ted. Nancy. William. Jimmy. Eileen. Skipper. Faith.
Edward knew what it was like to say over and over again the names of those you had left behind. He knew what it was like to miss someone. And so he listened. And in his listening, his heart opened wide and then wider still.
The rabbit stayed lost with Lucy and Bull for a long time. Almost seven years passed, and in that time, Edward became an excellent tramp: happy to be on the road, restless when he was still. The sound of the wheels on the train tracks became a music that soothed him. He could have ridden the rails forever. But one night, in a railroad yard in Memphis, as Bull and Lucy slept in an empty freight car and Edward kept watch, trouble arrived.

Takes One to Know One

No not a transsexual but someone who has suffered with depression.

I was at boarding school in England when Ant Mania was at its height, though being a proto rockabilly rebel I had no time for music that though interesting lacked ideological purity.

I recently came across Adam Ant’s new album and particularly like the cut Cool Zombie. Hooked I went back and listened to the songs that were a soundtrack to my last years in the UK. 

I also came across the documentary, “The Madness of Prince Charming”, despite the overly cute title it is a harrowing account of his depression, breakdowns and hospitalization.

The documentary struck a cord, like soldiers comparing notes on the same battle. I admire his fortitude to carry on.

And Oh Boy was he handsome back in the day!

Drafted

My good friend Genni is opening a British style pub in Oakville, Ontario. Named the Bouncing Bomb after the famous Dam busters raid the pub has a definite RAF theme with copious memorabilia and even a vintage air raid siren (no that is not a reference to me).

The pub is conveniently attached to the Trafalgar Brewery, a very successful producer of craft beers. The beer is supposed to be excellent but I wouldn’t know as I never acquired a taste for it, preferring Diet Pepsi.

I had lent a hand here and there painting and cleaning to get the pub up and running. I cannot overstate the huge task Genni took on single-handed to remodel the old bar.

Sunday she catered the brewery’s annual dinner, I was drafted to serve along with three other brave souls but spent most of the time as a plungeur, shades of  Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London (talk about rising to one’s level of competence). I don’t think I sat down till midnight. The dinner was a great success and the food and service received numerous compliments.

The push to get everything ready for the banquet really sped up the renovation schedule and the pub will unofficially open tomorrow with an official grand opening at the end of the month.

I will be making a return appearance tomorrow but this time I will behind the bar, really why hide the pub’s greatest asset in the kitchen LOL! My freelance writing and editing dance card has begun to fill up this month but some additional income is most welcome.  

Can't think of anyone better than George Formby to supply the musical selection for this post:

         well just one more:

Faggot & Freak / Law & Order

If you might recall dear constant reader, I have had some problems with one of my neighbors. I have worked hard to give him a wide berth and to avoid enraging him with my mere presence.

Last weekend he unleashed a string of disgusting sexual terms and mimed sexual acts while my youngest daughter and I were playing outside. He repeatedly mimed pulling down his pants and invited me to give him a blowjob. I was called a faggot and a freak in front of my child.

The next morning he accosted me in my driveway, me two inches from my face he berated me spewing the worst homophobic, transphobic, misogynistic (he is an equal opportunity bigot) spittle flecked rant one should ever have the misfortune to witness.

He bragged of having a police record for beating up “faggots” back in the day, I assume he is in his sixties. He also claims to have videos and photos of me doing “things. I believe this is called stalking.

Most amusingly he seems to have a fascination with the number of times I check the oil in my cars, a more solitary and quiet activity I cant imagine.   It is terrifying how quickly a situation with the potential for violence can escalate. I was scared to go out to my car to even go to the grocery store for fear of another incident. I do not fear him physically but nor did I wish to be seen as the “bad guy” for defending myself against an “old” man.

Yesterday morning I phoned the police, fearing that property damage and violence would be next on his agenda.

Despite some mix up with schedules a police officer did take a statement from me in the evening then cautioned my neighbor.  I will see if the visit from the police will have cooled his ardor but I am not confident. The officer discussed me laying charges and mentioned hate crime legislation. However, some sort of physical attack seems to be necessary before they would charge him with such an offense. I was not pleased with the officer mentioning I should remember he comes from a different generation. I didn’t realize that age was an excuse for violent bigotry.  

On the whole I try to avoid politics in this blog but I envy the more robust civil liberties of my neighbors to the south and their 2^nd. amendment. Even such self-defense products as mace and pepper spray are sadly illegal here.  In Canada it is safe to say that the accused has more rights than the victim.

I have been advised to call 911 if he sets foot on my property again.

 

Edge of Reality

 

 Not just an Elvis song. I am still recovering from the worst flu ever! Seriously folks I have never been so sick.

A week in bed has left me near stir crazy, insomnia, claustrophobia (my biggest fear). I wake up in the middle of the night feeling buried alive and on the edge of panic and insanity.

These feelings have come to follow me into daylight hours. I imagine this is what it is like to come close to experiencing a nervous breakdown.

I think the sickness left me too much time in my own head and all my worries and concerns have overwhelmed me producing feelings of being trapped. It has got to point where I fear going to sleep and stay up as late as possible to guarantee I will be unconscious as soon as my head hits the pillow. Even then I have to calm myself by breathing deeply and slowly while thinking happy thoughts.

Perhaps it is the bitter cold and bleak winter landscape is adding to my desperation.

 

I hope as I get better and do my best to address each issue, primary a lack of a “real” job I will be able to enjoy sleep again.

Sick as a Parrot

I have been feeling poorly for a week, which I had put down to burning the candle at both ends and worry about my CAMH meeting.

Yesterday I was laid low by the full force of whatever flu bug is rampaging across the continent. I spent most of the day in bed experiencing weired dreams (yes cars were involved....I was lost in Miami driving a white and blue 1977 Lincoln Town Coupe frantically looking for the airport) and a pounding skull that felt as if I had been beaten repeatedly with an aluminum baseball bat.

Today I am off to the office but am unsure if I will do any good. I conducted an interview this morning with the expert on Ford modular engines for a car magazine. For my British readers he worked on engine packages for Marcos, Jensen and the late lamented V8 powered MG SV and ZT.

Not me nor my car

Here are two mixes that if I hadn't shared them earlier with Cass I would have thought I imagined them in a fever dream:

On Ramp, Stand On It!

Friday was my fourth and second official visit to CAMH (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health) at the same time.

To explain, I originally went to CAMH in late 2009 after which I diagnosed with GID, I did not go back until 2011 when I changed jobs and was free to set a date for going full time. 

I followed the familiar path along the QEW (Queen Elizabeth Way) highway up Spadina Avenue to the CAMH building again in October 2012 to show them I had met all their major requirements for surgery….living full time for over year, name change and working as myself.

So yesterday was my second official visit leading to surgery. I had to be interviewed by two psychiatrists and be able to explain the surgery in detail, the risks and my plans for recovery. I made sure I prepared as well as I would for any interview.

The weather was cold and snow forecast for later in the day so I decided to take the commuter train instead of driving. Dressed in conservative business attire I nonchalantly boarded the train to Toronto, back in 2009 I would not have had the confidence to sit cheek by jowl with my fellow commuters.

Union Station

I felt a pang of longing for my old routine of journeying to Yonge and Bloor everyday on the train to work in banking….well more for the pay cheque than the commute.

At Union Station (my favourite old building in Toronto) I decided to walk up through the financial canyons to my appointment. Near city hall I turned left along Queen Street, which still claims to be the hip centre of Toronto, I passed Kops (a record store) where I spent my lunch money on vintage rockabilly 45s and over priced European imports. The Horseshoe Tavern where I had seen the Sun Rhythm Session and The Razorbacks.

Now I felt free to look in the windows of the designer boutiques I passed. In the bad old days those clothes were a symbol of a world I could only dream of inhabiting. I feared any furtive glance would lay my secret self bare.

The two meeting went very well and I was told unofficially I am on my way. I still have to wait two months for the board to meet to find out officially. 

Assuming I receive my funding approval  the date for SRS will be another three to six months (possibly longer) in the future. So 2013 looks to be my year! the surgery will be in Montreal with Dr. Brassard.

The sense of relief even at this point was immense, a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Later that Day I visited Bobbi and Alex in the city where we enjoyed some delicious Thai food and discussed our shared experience as great fluffy flakes of snow turned the city from dirty Soviet grey to glowing white.

I would have stayed later but I had been up at five am and was beginning to seriously crash and burn. Bobbi drove me to the subway and I rode it back to Union. Avoiding the temptation of everything from McDonalds to Cinnabon in the station I caught the 9:45 back to Burlington.

The Lincoln dusted in snow faithfully started on the first crank. Home, dinner and bed in that order. 

In honour of Cass and and her narrow escape from a van full of ninjas here is her future boyfriend: 

crying, waiting, hoping

Hugs,

April

A Final Solution to the Trannie Problem

Like waking up to find a virtual burning cross on ones front lawn. Not to over do the hyperbole (too late) or to make light of the racism suffered by African Americans. But that is the image that popped into my mind when I came across the submission given to Parliament by Dr. Joseph Berger in regards to Bill 279 described as a trans human rights bill and a bathroom bill by different camps.

Whatever you think of the merits of the Bill 279 lets be clear this NOT a case of transgender vs. transsexual politics, he doesn’t care where we are on the spectrum. He explicitly denies our existence, in his opinion we are nothing but unhappy psychotics.

When he says transgendered he means transsexual, those seeking surgery.

I will let his own words condemn him:

"From a scientific perspective, let me clarify what transgendered actually means...

Sometimes some of these people have claimed that they are 'a woman trapped in a man's body' or alternatively 'a man trapped in a woman's body'. Scientifically, there is no such a thing. Therefore anyone who actually truly believes that notion, is by definition deluded, psychotic."

As a psychiatrist he bases most of his reasoning on “science”. Really how is he any more qualified than I am to speak on surgical and neuroscience issues.

"what we are talking about scientifically, is just unhappiness, and that unhappiness is being accompanied by a wish – that leads some people into taking hormones that predominate in the other sex, and even having cosmetic surgery designed to make them ‘appear’ as if they are a person of the opposite sex."

I realizes that some people have difficulty in dealing with us but hopefully that group is becoming extinct.

He was invited to speak by REAL Women of Canada, now I am a conservative and no doubt share some of their small government views. However, a REAL conservative believes in personal freedom and responsibility, they don’t seek to stigmatize and suppress others.

After reading the doctor's submission I was shaking with rage. I can only imagine the horror that could well have befallen me if I had come out at a younger age and come into the care of such evil men.

It is a slippery slope from calling people whom you disagree with sick, delusional psychotics to locking them up and applying electroshock. And that did happen in the past to women and men like us.  

Talking with friends about this they both suggested perhaps the good doctor is perhaps over compensating….if that is the case he has my sympathy.