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Ann Teve 's Entries

188 blogs
  • 30 Apr 2008
    I've just come from a makeover by SMASHBOX cosmetics. Wow! What an improvement on me. What an improvement on the day. I'm really starting to get the hang of this. Life as Ann is -- little by little -- improving. I think that I'm finding a 'look' that suits, I'm finding normality as Ann -- each day being less remarkable than the prior day. I'm becoming something of an ordinary girl, if only in my own mind. Perhaps the biggest change is my growing self-assurance. I often hear people dreading being 'read' or 'clocked'. To know you've been read you've got to be watching others' reaction to you, something of an insecurity, at least for me. I don't look any longer and more importantly, I don't care. People judge people. This is a point of significant personal growth for me.Buried by gender dysphoria and now my transition is damage from being Bi-Polar. That too is now coming under control. I am feeling so, so much better. I am finally on medication to relieve me of depression and mania. Transition wasn't the challenge that coming to terms with Bi-Polar was.As Ann I have made two close real-girl girl friends and a growing number of real-girl acquaintances. I am better received as Ann than I ever was as Michael. Has my personality blossomed as Ann? Do people find Ann more appealing than Michael ever was?In every change there are periods of constance and then milestones -- turning points. I feel that I am at such a point. Its a moment that has crept up unseen and even as I write I don't know what change is pending.I guess that the message in this post is that I feel that the success of transition can be measured by how normal all the daily nuances of life become. I am truly becoming who I am, it is unremarkable, it is normal. I am taking my place in society indifferent to the opinions of others. I am finding unqualified acceptance from new friends whose opinion I value and I am grounded and made secure by you, my longterm friends here at TW.P.S. My friend M has a 3-year old P. Last Thursday was the perfect day to spend at the beach -- so we did. It was a delight to have P tow me down the beach by my finger issuing instructions, "Ann, pick up that stone.", "Ann, go into the water."
    764 Posted by Ann Teve
  • I've just come from a makeover by SMASHBOX cosmetics. Wow! What an improvement on me. What an improvement on the day. I'm really starting to get the hang of this. Life as Ann is -- little by little -- improving. I think that I'm finding a 'look' that suits, I'm finding normality as Ann -- each day being less remarkable than the prior day. I'm becoming something of an ordinary girl, if only in my own mind. Perhaps the biggest change is my growing self-assurance. I often hear people dreading being 'read' or 'clocked'. To know you've been read you've got to be watching others' reaction to you, something of an insecurity, at least for me. I don't look any longer and more importantly, I don't care. People judge people. This is a point of significant personal growth for me.Buried by gender dysphoria and now my transition is damage from being Bi-Polar. That too is now coming under control. I am feeling so, so much better. I am finally on medication to relieve me of depression and mania. Transition wasn't the challenge that coming to terms with Bi-Polar was.As Ann I have made two close real-girl girl friends and a growing number of real-girl acquaintances. I am better received as Ann than I ever was as Michael. Has my personality blossomed as Ann? Do people find Ann more appealing than Michael ever was?In every change there are periods of constance and then milestones -- turning points. I feel that I am at such a point. Its a moment that has crept up unseen and even as I write I don't know what change is pending.I guess that the message in this post is that I feel that the success of transition can be measured by how normal all the daily nuances of life become. I am truly becoming who I am, it is unremarkable, it is normal. I am taking my place in society indifferent to the opinions of others. I am finding unqualified acceptance from new friends whose opinion I value and I am grounded and made secure by you, my longterm friends here at TW.P.S. My friend M has a 3-year old P. Last Thursday was the perfect day to spend at the beach -- so we did. It was a delight to have P tow me down the beach by my finger issuing instructions, "Ann, pick up that stone.", "Ann, go into the water."
    Apr 30, 2008 764
  • 21 Apr 2008
    April 19th marks the half way (6 month) point of my RLT. It is not as one might imagine, time of consistent experience but an evolving experience which, I have to point out, brings a change to my insight of self with every day that has passed.The first month I was preoccupied with just being dressed as Ann at work. I was treated well and was very sensitive to this treatment. As I have before, I say that I was treated in a wonderful way at work and completely accepted. All of the staff made a great effort to get my name right and the pronouns right. Most of the shoppers were accommodating -- a few did seem to look at me oddly, only one had a reaction that was distressing, he laughed out loud.
    718 Posted by Ann Teve
  • April 19th marks the half way (6 month) point of my RLT. It is not as one might imagine, time of consistent experience but an evolving experience which, I have to point out, brings a change to my insight of self with every day that has passed.The first month I was preoccupied with just being dressed as Ann at work. I was treated well and was very sensitive to this treatment. As I have before, I say that I was treated in a wonderful way at work and completely accepted. All of the staff made a great effort to get my name right and the pronouns right. Most of the shoppers were accommodating -- a few did seem to look at me oddly, only one had a reaction that was distressing, he laughed out loud.
    Apr 21, 2008 718
  • 08 Apr 2008
    It was mid-morning, a day off, and I was -- of course -- in the bath. I heard the doorbell and moments later mother's steps to the top of the stairs. "There's a man at the door with a letter which he'll only give to you." That couldn't be good. I culled my mind for legal transgressions which might now be coming due. Wet and dripping, I wrapped my bathrobe around me and headed upstairs. Without preparation, my painted toes were the only sign of my aspiration to be female. I shrugged mentally. I doubted that he would care."Are you Michael Steel?" He was pleasant enough and the day outside pleasant enough as well. My name was informally written across the envelope. I took the envelope, said, "Thanks." and closed the door.The envelope was unsealed. I dropped it on the dining room table and returned to my bath. Mother opened and read the contents.I lay back in the tub. My chest burned. Fear? Anticipation? Dread? Everything was suddenly different. I knew that. I couldn't wash the ill that I was feeling from my body. I pulled the plug.The letter was open on the table and I could see the legal seal on the upper left. I skimmed the letter knowing its contents. Words on paper. I had been served with divorce. We were over. I thought that I would be the one to take this step but somehow it felt better that the anquish and surprise be mine.Divorce is an unavoidable step in my path and that of my ex. We had been growing apart over issues other than my gender dysporia but you forget those issues at moments like this. Spring sun beamed through the window of my bedroom as I lay down. I covered my eyes with a sweater left there from the night before. In the dark, I cried.Every good moment of our marriage passed before me. Long forgotten moments returned. Colours, senses, smells, feelings, the finest of details about our time together. I sobbed releasing from deep within my chest the dread and sadness held there. The last connection with a person I dearly love has been severed. I am a lone.
    658 Posted by Ann Teve
  • It was mid-morning, a day off, and I was -- of course -- in the bath. I heard the doorbell and moments later mother's steps to the top of the stairs. "There's a man at the door with a letter which he'll only give to you." That couldn't be good. I culled my mind for legal transgressions which might now be coming due. Wet and dripping, I wrapped my bathrobe around me and headed upstairs. Without preparation, my painted toes were the only sign of my aspiration to be female. I shrugged mentally. I doubted that he would care."Are you Michael Steel?" He was pleasant enough and the day outside pleasant enough as well. My name was informally written across the envelope. I took the envelope, said, "Thanks." and closed the door.The envelope was unsealed. I dropped it on the dining room table and returned to my bath. Mother opened and read the contents.I lay back in the tub. My chest burned. Fear? Anticipation? Dread? Everything was suddenly different. I knew that. I couldn't wash the ill that I was feeling from my body. I pulled the plug.The letter was open on the table and I could see the legal seal on the upper left. I skimmed the letter knowing its contents. Words on paper. I had been served with divorce. We were over. I thought that I would be the one to take this step but somehow it felt better that the anquish and surprise be mine.Divorce is an unavoidable step in my path and that of my ex. We had been growing apart over issues other than my gender dysporia but you forget those issues at moments like this. Spring sun beamed through the window of my bedroom as I lay down. I covered my eyes with a sweater left there from the night before. In the dark, I cried.Every good moment of our marriage passed before me. Long forgotten moments returned. Colours, senses, smells, feelings, the finest of details about our time together. I sobbed releasing from deep within my chest the dread and sadness held there. The last connection with a person I dearly love has been severed. I am a lone.
    Apr 08, 2008 658
  • 27 Mar 2008
    "Why did you leave me waiting and wondering so long?" The question was simple and pointed and pierced my soul. How could I say to her that to let go of her was almost to let go of life itself. My hold has been selfish but not entirely so. 2007 for me was consumed by recover from profound depression, but even now threads of those feelings linger surprised me with tears triggered by a word, a memory or a vision of doubt about my future."If your going to divorce me, then do it." The words and all they meant were out, said by her without discernable emotion or emotion buried in past unseen and unshared tears and heartache. "Okay." was all I could say in reply.We spent Monday talking but it has taken me a few days to piece that time together for you. What have I done and why? One part of me wants this all to end, to go back to the way things were but at the same moment I know that they cannot. How can this all be so confusing, so uncertain, so conflicted.There is a future out there, I still not certain what it is, or how I'll find it, but I realize now that I am set on the path to find it. People are moving away from me. People are set on their paths, paths curving away from me. If I look to them, I am alone, I have to resolve to my own path, believing that it will bring good people into my life..
    707 Posted by Ann Teve
  • "Why did you leave me waiting and wondering so long?" The question was simple and pointed and pierced my soul. How could I say to her that to let go of her was almost to let go of life itself. My hold has been selfish but not entirely so. 2007 for me was consumed by recover from profound depression, but even now threads of those feelings linger surprised me with tears triggered by a word, a memory or a vision of doubt about my future."If your going to divorce me, then do it." The words and all they meant were out, said by her without discernable emotion or emotion buried in past unseen and unshared tears and heartache. "Okay." was all I could say in reply.We spent Monday talking but it has taken me a few days to piece that time together for you. What have I done and why? One part of me wants this all to end, to go back to the way things were but at the same moment I know that they cannot. How can this all be so confusing, so uncertain, so conflicted.There is a future out there, I still not certain what it is, or how I'll find it, but I realize now that I am set on the path to find it. People are moving away from me. People are set on their paths, paths curving away from me. If I look to them, I am alone, I have to resolve to my own path, believing that it will bring good people into my life..
    Mar 27, 2008 707
  • 24 Mar 2008
    I mentioned in a post that my wife dropped off a van full of my possessions. I have to admit that I 'left' without thought of all of the things that one acquires over time -- the memories attached were so wonderful as to be unendurably painful. In going full-time, I have by default chosen to abandon my past. With that van, it came back. Today, I had some time to go through some of the boxes. All were neatly packed and neatly marked with the contents. These boxes stand in a row next to my desk in the basement. The first box I opened contained ornately painted vials from China. They were wrapped in pink paper and under the paper, cradled in little wooden boxes held with a bone clasp. To hold a vial was to be transported to the market in the streets of Hong Kong where we had purchased them. I cried.
    653 Posted by Ann Teve
  • I mentioned in a post that my wife dropped off a van full of my possessions. I have to admit that I 'left' without thought of all of the things that one acquires over time -- the memories attached were so wonderful as to be unendurably painful. In going full-time, I have by default chosen to abandon my past. With that van, it came back. Today, I had some time to go through some of the boxes. All were neatly packed and neatly marked with the contents. These boxes stand in a row next to my desk in the basement. The first box I opened contained ornately painted vials from China. They were wrapped in pink paper and under the paper, cradled in little wooden boxes held with a bone clasp. To hold a vial was to be transported to the market in the streets of Hong Kong where we had purchased them. I cried.
    Mar 24, 2008 653
  • 19 Mar 2008
    Full-time. It is the easiest of times. It is the hardest of times. The surprises I expected, the challenges I tensed for have not ocurred, or to the degree or way that I expected.Much of the past year was spent mourning my past life. I cried myself clear of that, finally seeing some future. I marvel at new friends, ggs, whose company I enjoy. I've become a positive contributor at the support meetings. That is gratifying. I am surprised by the courage that I see in others but am still surprised to be called courageous myself.Work is a mixed experience -- days where I feel the ugliest on the planet and other days where I am treated without remark. Sometimes I want to say something to both responses, "HEY, I'm a transsexual here! Can't you see that?" What a curious thing to want to do.My ex delivered a van full of my personal possessions. Is this a statement of anger? I'm not sure. I provoked conversation and I admitted that we are headed toward divorce. More discussion will follow. I had forgotten -- or forced my self to forget -- much of what she delivered. The smallest momento is dripping in memories and feelings. I picked out a .38 shell casing from bottle of mementos and felt a hitch in my throat.My first day out in the Florida sun following five flu-wracked,bed-ridden days, we drove around the little Florida town where we were taking our winter vacation. We spied a gun-shop and -- having never seen such in Canada -- decided to have a look inside. The array of guns was amazing and we asked the clerk about the purpose of each."That there's a Reee-volver." the clerk affably informed us,"Cleaning ladies like em, 'cause they're small and you can get five shots off quick."  I had the immediate theatric slowmotion vision of an unsuspecting executive falling in perforated pain by a volley from a surprised, quick-on-the-draw diminuitive cleaning lady, who after cleaning the chambers returns to mobbing the floor."What is this?""That's a Glock. It has a laser site. Ya just point at what you want to kill." Notwithstanding this rather creepy information, I spent a moment aiming this fatal pointer at various parts of the store while mouthing my best 'choo, choo' gun sound.  "Ya'll want to fire a gun?" the clerk asked. We considered this and decided that, yes, we did. A Colt .38 -- a Cold .45 being "to much for, ya'll" -- was removed from the case and loaded. We followed the clerk out the back door into small yard with a mound of earth at the far end. He placed a tin can on the side of the mound as I watched cars pass beyond the fence just behind the mound. "Ya,ll am at the can, now." was his comprehensive instruction. I did an the can flew straight into the air. "Why, yer good," he said,"ya'll could be an American." He popped the smoking casing from the gun and handed it to me. My ex followed with two direct hits of the earth mound. She saved her cartridge too. No cars were hit -- which was nice. And now I have the memory and the memento. I hope I will have more in my coming life.
    666 Posted by Ann Teve
  • Full-time. It is the easiest of times. It is the hardest of times. The surprises I expected, the challenges I tensed for have not ocurred, or to the degree or way that I expected.Much of the past year was spent mourning my past life. I cried myself clear of that, finally seeing some future. I marvel at new friends, ggs, whose company I enjoy. I've become a positive contributor at the support meetings. That is gratifying. I am surprised by the courage that I see in others but am still surprised to be called courageous myself.Work is a mixed experience -- days where I feel the ugliest on the planet and other days where I am treated without remark. Sometimes I want to say something to both responses, "HEY, I'm a transsexual here! Can't you see that?" What a curious thing to want to do.My ex delivered a van full of my personal possessions. Is this a statement of anger? I'm not sure. I provoked conversation and I admitted that we are headed toward divorce. More discussion will follow. I had forgotten -- or forced my self to forget -- much of what she delivered. The smallest momento is dripping in memories and feelings. I picked out a .38 shell casing from bottle of mementos and felt a hitch in my throat.My first day out in the Florida sun following five flu-wracked,bed-ridden days, we drove around the little Florida town where we were taking our winter vacation. We spied a gun-shop and -- having never seen such in Canada -- decided to have a look inside. The array of guns was amazing and we asked the clerk about the purpose of each."That there's a Reee-volver." the clerk affably informed us,"Cleaning ladies like em, 'cause they're small and you can get five shots off quick."  I had the immediate theatric slowmotion vision of an unsuspecting executive falling in perforated pain by a volley from a surprised, quick-on-the-draw diminuitive cleaning lady, who after cleaning the chambers returns to mobbing the floor."What is this?""That's a Glock. It has a laser site. Ya just point at what you want to kill." Notwithstanding this rather creepy information, I spent a moment aiming this fatal pointer at various parts of the store while mouthing my best 'choo, choo' gun sound.  "Ya'll want to fire a gun?" the clerk asked. We considered this and decided that, yes, we did. A Colt .38 -- a Cold .45 being "to much for, ya'll" -- was removed from the case and loaded. We followed the clerk out the back door into small yard with a mound of earth at the far end. He placed a tin can on the side of the mound as I watched cars pass beyond the fence just behind the mound. "Ya,ll am at the can, now." was his comprehensive instruction. I did an the can flew straight into the air. "Why, yer good," he said,"ya'll could be an American." He popped the smoking casing from the gun and handed it to me. My ex followed with two direct hits of the earth mound. She saved her cartridge too. No cars were hit -- which was nice. And now I have the memory and the memento. I hope I will have more in my coming life.
    Mar 19, 2008 666
  • 11 Mar 2008
    Little has changed in the last five months and now, with spring coming, change is in the air. Tomorrow is a meeting with my ex -- we are still married. Her suggestion; I'm struggling with a rising fear. I am cursed with conflicting wishes to have her in my life and the realization that it cannot work. Our brief meeting the other day was okay; it really was nice to see her and hear her voice. You cannot erase nearly twenty years of feelings. I wonder if the meeting is about getting on with the inevitable split but I am made so profoundly sad at the idea.I have come out as Ann to a company in the US that I last visited in October, 2007. In fact, they were the last company I visited -- and the last thing I did as Michael -- before transition to fulltime. Rather than talking directly to the owner, I asked to speak with the secretary and asked, "How liberal is R?" She was confused by the question, "Liberal about what?" What could I say further other than blurt out, "I'm a transsexual. How will R take that?" "What's your name?" she asked. Why does everyone ask that question, I just don't know, but anyway, I told her, "Ann." She laughed and said, "It won't be a problem at all. Whatever floats your boat." My mother has been convinced that now that I am living fulltime and a visible in the community, I will be called on to help others with gender issues. That has now happened. A coworker's daughter lives with a ftm. He is young -- early twenties -- and has struggled with his gender issues since a teen. He is searching for support and help. I agreed to introduce him to our support group and in advance took him out for a conversation about all things gender. He felt comfortable enough after our meeting to come to the support group. My little contribution back to our group.
    573 Posted by Ann Teve
  • Little has changed in the last five months and now, with spring coming, change is in the air. Tomorrow is a meeting with my ex -- we are still married. Her suggestion; I'm struggling with a rising fear. I am cursed with conflicting wishes to have her in my life and the realization that it cannot work. Our brief meeting the other day was okay; it really was nice to see her and hear her voice. You cannot erase nearly twenty years of feelings. I wonder if the meeting is about getting on with the inevitable split but I am made so profoundly sad at the idea.I have come out as Ann to a company in the US that I last visited in October, 2007. In fact, they were the last company I visited -- and the last thing I did as Michael -- before transition to fulltime. Rather than talking directly to the owner, I asked to speak with the secretary and asked, "How liberal is R?" She was confused by the question, "Liberal about what?" What could I say further other than blurt out, "I'm a transsexual. How will R take that?" "What's your name?" she asked. Why does everyone ask that question, I just don't know, but anyway, I told her, "Ann." She laughed and said, "It won't be a problem at all. Whatever floats your boat." My mother has been convinced that now that I am living fulltime and a visible in the community, I will be called on to help others with gender issues. That has now happened. A coworker's daughter lives with a ftm. He is young -- early twenties -- and has struggled with his gender issues since a teen. He is searching for support and help. I agreed to introduce him to our support group and in advance took him out for a conversation about all things gender. He felt comfortable enough after our meeting to come to the support group. My little contribution back to our group.
    Mar 11, 2008 573
  • 07 Mar 2008
    I got a phone call from my Ex. It was a complete surprise. We hadn't talked in four months. It was good to hear her voice, calm and friendly. Over those four months, I fretted over her feelings. Nightly, I embellished her supposed hate for what I've done. I would dream good times, crying that it was all lost forever in her antipathy.It was good to hear her voice. I was wrong about her feelings. Was my wig new? No, just cut. Was I well? Improving, so yes. Was I working? In a manner of speaking.I didn't ask any questions but felt that I could once again write to her. Our meeting was over quickly. No more than minutes really. I went home and slept.
    702 Posted by Ann Teve
  • I got a phone call from my Ex. It was a complete surprise. We hadn't talked in four months. It was good to hear her voice, calm and friendly. Over those four months, I fretted over her feelings. Nightly, I embellished her supposed hate for what I've done. I would dream good times, crying that it was all lost forever in her antipathy.It was good to hear her voice. I was wrong about her feelings. Was my wig new? No, just cut. Was I well? Improving, so yes. Was I working? In a manner of speaking.I didn't ask any questions but felt that I could once again write to her. Our meeting was over quickly. No more than minutes really. I went home and slept.
    Mar 07, 2008 702
  • 26 Feb 2008
    The winter in Ontario, cold notwithstanding, has been beautiful. Gentle snowfalls draping the trees and set off by brilliant blue skies seen through squinted eyes. I am a third of the way through my first year as Ann. How fast it goes and how unremarkable. I am feeling better or perhaps I should say that I'm not feeling badly, the absence of angst most notable.My thinking time is at the library, my only access to the internet and you. It too is bright with tall windows topping all the walls, the ceiling suspended above this the light. All these feelings are spawned by the sense of coming change. I really don't know what is next. It is the best of time and the worst of times. I can do whatever I want, take any direction but I'm feeling completely incompetent. I need to pinch myself when I have such thoughts.This isn't working out quite how I expected. I've been marginalized by my family. Yes, that may change, I'm over the hurt and I'm not inclined to feel ill of them. It is what it is. I have made friends. I'm still learning how to be a friend in return, though, and hoping that I'm doing a good job. So, in transition, I have found friends and lost my family.What am I going to do next? What sort of work would be meaningful? What sort of job could I keep? I'm looking in all directions and not seeing any signs.
    702 Posted by Ann Teve
  • The winter in Ontario, cold notwithstanding, has been beautiful. Gentle snowfalls draping the trees and set off by brilliant blue skies seen through squinted eyes. I am a third of the way through my first year as Ann. How fast it goes and how unremarkable. I am feeling better or perhaps I should say that I'm not feeling badly, the absence of angst most notable.My thinking time is at the library, my only access to the internet and you. It too is bright with tall windows topping all the walls, the ceiling suspended above this the light. All these feelings are spawned by the sense of coming change. I really don't know what is next. It is the best of time and the worst of times. I can do whatever I want, take any direction but I'm feeling completely incompetent. I need to pinch myself when I have such thoughts.This isn't working out quite how I expected. I've been marginalized by my family. Yes, that may change, I'm over the hurt and I'm not inclined to feel ill of them. It is what it is. I have made friends. I'm still learning how to be a friend in return, though, and hoping that I'm doing a good job. So, in transition, I have found friends and lost my family.What am I going to do next? What sort of work would be meaningful? What sort of job could I keep? I'm looking in all directions and not seeing any signs.
    Feb 26, 2008 702
  • 14 Feb 2008
    A special day today, Valentine's Day. I felt compelled to send something to my ex, a simple ecard with a simple appreciative sentiment. I don't know if it was the right thing to do but I followed my heart on that. It is now a full year that we've been separated. Even now, I still get weepy thinking of the good times that we had. That doesn't mean that a return is possible because there was a lot that just didn't work between us -- even before I transitioned.I've started applying to jobs. This is the next step of my transition. An income is essential if I'm going to proceed with anything and there's a lot of work needed on me, hair transplant, some facial work, electroylsis, electrolysis, electrolysis and finally SRS. Oh, did I mention electrolysis. If there is any question of transition being just fanciful experimentation, that notion is total dispelled by the pain of electrolysis. I've come the conclusion that men simply don't feel emotion to the depth that women do. This sounds an obvious point, but I realize that the richness of emotion that I felt as a teen and now returned makes me realize just how little I felt in the intervening years. This difference in feeling, I fell, is profound and one of the reasons that men and women have difficulty relating. I don't think that girls realize how different the level of emotion is, even when they are crying at a love story and their partner is rolling his eyes.I have to say that it is truly wonderful to feel the brightness of emotion again. It will make this journey so much more wonderful.
    632 Posted by Ann Teve
  • A special day today, Valentine's Day. I felt compelled to send something to my ex, a simple ecard with a simple appreciative sentiment. I don't know if it was the right thing to do but I followed my heart on that. It is now a full year that we've been separated. Even now, I still get weepy thinking of the good times that we had. That doesn't mean that a return is possible because there was a lot that just didn't work between us -- even before I transitioned.I've started applying to jobs. This is the next step of my transition. An income is essential if I'm going to proceed with anything and there's a lot of work needed on me, hair transplant, some facial work, electroylsis, electrolysis, electrolysis and finally SRS. Oh, did I mention electrolysis. If there is any question of transition being just fanciful experimentation, that notion is total dispelled by the pain of electrolysis. I've come the conclusion that men simply don't feel emotion to the depth that women do. This sounds an obvious point, but I realize that the richness of emotion that I felt as a teen and now returned makes me realize just how little I felt in the intervening years. This difference in feeling, I fell, is profound and one of the reasons that men and women have difficulty relating. I don't think that girls realize how different the level of emotion is, even when they are crying at a love story and their partner is rolling his eyes.I have to say that it is truly wonderful to feel the brightness of emotion again. It will make this journey so much more wonderful.
    Feb 14, 2008 632