A Cute Penguin Web Comic Just In Time for My Birthday!

"I Need Caffeine. What Do You Recommend?"

As I find myself saying more often than I should (because it makes me sound like a jerk/septuagenarian), I have been working in coffee for seven years. I have been asked this question a thousand times.

Folks often times think because espresso tastes "more intense" than coffee (and because it comes in shot form), it must have more caffeine in it. I assume folks are conditioned to think this way in part because the stronger an alcohol tastes, the higher alcohol content it generally has. Or perhaps our brains are just wired by evolution somehow to think "richer taste = more stuff".

At any rate, drip coffee has more caffeine content oz per oz than espresso does. This is all because of simple fluid flow mechanics, which a chemical engineering major friend of mine once showed me the formula for in college. (Sadly, when I talk about it, I don't sound nearly as educated.) To make espresso, water is forced through coffee grounds at a high pressure in a short amount of time. This means the water spends less time in actual contact with the ground coffee, whereas when making coffee with an electric maker or a press pot, the water spends a lot more time soaking through the grounds. This means more caffeine can be leeched from the ground coffee beans by the water as it turns into a delicious cup of coffee. Yum!

Many folks often walk up to the counter assuming they'll have to have a small twelve-shot latte in order to perk up. Not only would such a drink be not so tasty, but it would also be expensive. I am always glad to let people know they can save themselves the trouble and just have a regular cup of java. Unless they need to order a small twelve-shot latte in order to show off to their friends, which is then not my problem--I just make the damn thing.

East Coast Update

I haven't written in over a month because we have moved to New Jersey, are adjusting to our lives here, and Dan has gone through a major medical procedure, which is requiring weeks of staying at hospitals in Philadelphia. (We're only about ten miles from Philly, so don't worry--not much of a drive, unless you count traffic.)

We did make it. I am hoping that in another week or two I can start writing on a semi-regular basis again.

It's Official: I am JDS.

I went to the courthouse today, paid a healthy sum to the government of Pima County, and legally changed my name to James Drew Siegel. I had to stand up in front of a judge and swear that I was not a felon and give the reason for changing my name. (You can actually say anything you want--I don't like my old name, it rhymes with ugly, I've always thought of myself as Cher's long lost twin sister--, but I stuck with the official truth: "to match my gender".) The judge then says the legal equivalent of "okey-dokey", signs the forms, and sends you down stairs to get your copies of the forms.

The far more grueling activity was going to the Social Security Office and requesting a new social security card. The actual time I spent at the window completing the requesting process was a total of five minutes. The wait to get to the window was two solid hours. The huge waiting room was standing room only. There was also a VERY over-zealous security guard who ran around assaulting old folks who could barely walk because he decided they might be carrying a weapon. ("Sir! Sir! Do you have ANY WEAPONS ON YOUR PERSON?!" he shouted as he went after one man that looked to be about 87 years old.) He also would make sure that not only your cell phone was on silent (which I think is reasonable) but he would make sure you were not texting/looking at/holding/or even thinking about your cell phone (which I think is unreasonable). I had to sneak into the restroom so I could text Dan that I would be at the SS office for at least two hours. I could have walked into the parking lot and called him but I was worried the minute I did that they would somehow call my number and I'd get screwed out of my place in line.

Anyway, with those two steps completed, I just go with my forms to the DMV in the next couple days and get my new driver's license!

All of my bitching aside, AZ has one of the easiest (if not the easiest) name changing processes in all of the fifty United States. I am grateful that I get to take advantage of it.

I have been excitedly telling my friends all day that my name is now official. I don't know if most folks quite understand how freakin' exciting it is to be legal and get to (for once) see the right name on all of my credit cards, my mail, my identification. I think it feels fabulous.

I am looking forward to spend the rest of today relaxing with Dan. Since we were both busy/incapacitated on 2/14, we're making tonight our Valentine's Day instead.

Packing Update

10 days and counting until we hit the road for the east coast. Right now we're throwing stuff away (old papers) and donating clothes. A LOT of clothes. Dan is posting stuff to sell on Craig's List. We're filling out change of address forms. You know--all of the glamorous stuff.

Managed to get through most of my pictures and old high school/college papers yesterday. I have never been a big picture taker. I keep thinking that I should start, but why force it? I have been waiting to take this cross-country drive my whole life.

Off to try to get some more packing and disposing done.

10 Years

My brother and I went with the gang to Safehouse last night for coffee after dinner. We realized when we were there talking about our futures that we had been coming to the Safehouse together for ten years.

It made me feel old. But when I was standing there next to my brother, I also felt this immense sense of pride. We have come so far. And we will kick so much more ass before we're done.

Safehouse isn't quite the same since smoking was outlawed inside. But it makes it easier for me not to crave cigarettes. And the coffee is still fuckin' fantastic.

The Last of the Coming Out Letters

Well, I have made it to the home stretch: I am writing and sending the last of my coming out as trans epistles in the next day or two. The last to know are my relatives back east. And since I'll be seeing them soon, it is time to let the cat completely out of the bag.

I am relieved that what remains of my double life will be retired shortly. I find it tiresome and irritating. My grandmother has assumed for the last couple months that I must have some long-term cold I'm hiding from her, since every time we talk on the phone my voice suspiciously gets lower and lower. (I'm pretty sure it has bottomed out at this point, but anyway . . .)

When I first tell someone close to me that I am trans, I realize I often head into the conversation hoping they too will understand my innate maleness (whatever the hell that is) and will just "get it". But I realize as time goes on that I just want their ongoing love, acceptance, and support, just like any other person who confides in their family about any one thing.

Plus, I can already tell from my experiences in the last nine months that some people, regardless of how much they care about me, won't always understand what being FTM means. They'll use the wrong pronoun or my old name, despite corrections or looks from myself or others. It'll be twenty years from now and I'll have had my chest surgery and will still be sporting my bitchin' sideburns and they'll probably say "she". But they will simply be doing their best to be the most support they can be.

I am probably the most worried about my grandparents (my father's folks, both in their mid-80's) but I simultaneously worry the least about what they end up calling me for the rest of their days. I feel like I'm mostly telling them so when they see James on my credit cards, driver's license, etc., they'll know what the hell is going on.

Anyway, I'm off to get those letters done. And then have a drink.