Everything is actually going pretty damn good for me.

Therapy was great and I'll probably be wrapping up my sessions in about another month unless something else crops up. For me, it often just takes an objective nudge for my eyes to see things they couldn't before. Initial tests of my typically volatile issues have been passed with flying colors.

Got to go to New York again a couple weeks ago and stayed at the famed Algonquin. Visited Rockefeller Plaza, Radio City Music Hall, Grand Central Station, Central Park and Coney Island. I took all film photos this time, so I don't have pics for the site.

Went back to the hometown with Deb last weekend and picked up two room's worth of new (old) authentic retro 1960s furniture (a bedroom set and dining room set). Had to rent a U-Haul and everything. Oddly, I really enjoyed driving that big truck. Deb got to take the MINI from Tennessee back to Atlanta.

Ontario now recognizes same-sex marriages, so Deb and I are planning to fly up to Toronto and get hitched all legal-like. My mother's reaction when I told her this weekend? "Oh, brother." I thought about getting offended, but then remembered that my straight sister got about the same reaction when she announced she was planning to marry again, so all is equal.

It was great to get to spend a lot of time with Deb, too. We started reading an excellent book on the drive up (she reading to me): "A Round-Heeled Woman," by Judy Juska. A retired, but still working, English teacher placed the following ad in the New York Review of Books: "BEFORE I TURN 67--next March--I would like to have a lot of sex with a man I like. If you want to talk first, Trollope works for me." The book is her story of what happened. On the way home, Deb and I communicated between vehicles with the walkie-talkies we bought when Sara did her marathon in San Diego. They worked great and we had fun conversations once we got accustomed to using them. I was tremendously thankful for them when we hit a nasty traffic jam just north of town.

I've lost 20.5 pounds and can now fit into 34-inch-waist pants. And I'm sorry, Gawain, but I really am going to have a breast reduction. I don't care if Baby Jesus cries. What's he got to cry about? He doesn't have floppy tits that make his back hurt and look like deflated caucasian footballs.

Deb is doing well and is very into beading as a means of relaxation and creative outlet. Her garden has come in like gangbusters this year with all the rain. Unfortunately, she has been having trouble sleeping, and the best solution so far is for her to move to the bed in the attic sometime during the night. She starts out sleeping with me, but gets restless, crowded and sweaty after a while in the same bed with me and the dog. We probably shouldn't have switched from a queen- to a full-size bed just before she hit the hotflash phase of perimenopause.

Sara has officially applied to become a cop. I fully expect the department to accept her application and for her to pass all the required tests. If she's assigned to the August session at the academy, she will miss our Florida vacation, though, and Jake is inclined to stay home, too, if that's the case. That would suck in a major way. It will not be nearly as fun without them if they can't come.

That's about it from me, except for a couple more date-reportish genre comments below.

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I've had some awesomely good dates lately. Really good, play it back in your head dates. Tie her up and fuck every hole dates.

Not like I haven't had lots of those kind of dates before, too, but I just felt like mentioning it.

I'm working on another role-play character and enjoying that. It's going to be a rather involved buildup. I'm even creating a personals-type homepage for the character. I need to take new photos to go on it, though.

Have another date scheduled for tonight. Very happy about that.