It’s been a full week since the surgery. The bruising has faded to a greenish-yellow. Firstborn’s eyes are open, the nose guard and stents are out, some stitches were removed, the swelling is going down (excruciatingly slowly but it’s a little better every day). She can sort of chew. She even brushed her teeth today which made her feel human again.
The practice provides for a nutrition and image/beauty consultant to assist in those necessary small indulgences that help you bring together a look to go with how you now feel post-surgery. It’s a nice thing to do. I’m very impressed with the attention to detail, to how they focus on wellness and the whole person.
I’ve been road tripping on the turnpike and the Schuylkill Expressway daily since Friday. I’ve grown sympathetic to road rage and I spend my idling in stopped traffic time daydreaming about upgrades to the Subaru, ala Mad Max—flamethrowers, battering rams, bazookas—you know… like you do.
Neither she nor I are talkers, we “keep company” by sharing space and having convos that are probably unintelligible to anyone else—short, to the point (and always involving horses, cats, chickens, the farm, the weather and food), then long periods of comfortable silence. But at one point we got to talking about the relatives, past and present, and then she did a recap of how the transition came into focus, how she decided to deal with it, and why she waited as long as she did to move forward.
It was interesting and somewhat surprising to me because, as I said in an earlier post, Mom’s kinda clueless about stuff in a tunnel-vision way, but what really floored me was her saying she knew I was ready for the big reveal after reading a book I’d written about a trans turned vamp mid-change and the consequences of being suspended in between male and female with no hope of either going back or moving forward.
It’s strange how things work out. I’m always tickled to hear from readers that something I wrote made a difference for them, but I never expected it to hit so close to home! And just for the record… I didn’t know about this until the other day so my cluelessness record remained unsullied until that point.
And since I haven’t hawked a book in forevah! the tome in question is ACID JAZZ SINGER which I’ve put on sale on AMAZON and ALL ROMANCE for 99c.
Acid Jazz Singer, Nya Rawlyns
Genre: Dark urban fantasy, paranormal, gay fiction, transgender
Her name was RayLee. They called her the Acid Jazz Singer, her sultry voice mesmerizing human and demon alike. She’d been running for three years from her maker and only Travis McKenzie stood between her and the darkness that had become her life.
Travis hunted the hit squads of demons and paid lip service to the Sheriff of the city. The half-blood had gifts, of the magic, shifting kind—and something more. It made him a stone cold killer and the only thing that mattered in his life was safeguarding the woman he was falling in love with.
Vladimira was the oldest of her kind, an enforcer—a gun for hire to the highest bidder. Vamp, human, demon. It didn’t matter. It was all about the job … until the stakes changed and she found a reason to care.
The singer and the protector had a history. But that history changed when a southern bigot vamp turned Travis’ friend into a travesty—neither man, nor woman … but both. Travis fell hard for the trannie known as RayLee. He was having a harder time dealing with his best friend, Ray.
Then the game changes, and Travis and Ray have to rely on an assassin with a secret agenda and uncertain loyalties.
When the demon comes to claim Ray, Travis must walk through the bowels of hell to save the only being on earth he cares about.
The problem is … who is going to save Travis from himself?
“Strap in…this is an awesome, fast paced reading experience!”
“…deliciously wicked twists of character and plot.”
Sessha Batto did a killer book video.
And as usual—a big shout-out to our friends who’ve made this journey easier in more ways than I can tally—from taking care of the farm, to making sure I have books to keep me occupied (and not worrying quite so much), to the well wishes and expressions of support for both of us.
It takes a village, for real. And when that village is filled with love and caring… well, anything is possible.
Love and peace.