Life goes on.
I have just returned from a brief visit with my daughter. Two Sundays ago I got a 10:30 PM call from her. She had just discovered the thermostat had failed for her heating system. There was a 5 to 8 inch snow storm forecasted to arrive overnight. I'm her goto for that type of problem. Over the phone, I guided her in locating and jumpering the two wire she needed to to confirm the thermostat was the culprit and get some heat into her chilly house. She controlled the heat by the breaker through the week until she could get to Home Depot and pick out a new thermostat. This past Saturday, she called and we worked through that selection process. When she got it home, she called again so I could help her install it. Oops, the old thermostat only needed four wires. The new one needed a fifth wire that was nowhere to be found. The new thermostat had an adaptor that could be installed in the furnace that would change things so it only needed four wire. I guided her with opening up the furnace to see what she had on that end. It wasn't pretty. No nice, neat labeled wires or terminal strip. So, after some contemplation, I told her I would drive up the next day and do what her Daddy has always done- help out my girl as best I can. At the same time, I would finish up the tile installation in the kitchen that I hadn't quite finished up in January before I ran out of time on the previous trip. I installed the thermostat Sunday evening and did the tile work on Monday. Drove home today.
By the way, when I had arrived at my daughter's house, I walked in in what I had worn to the UU fellowship meeting earlier in the morning. Not long after I got settled in she said to me, "Cute skirt."
This morning, just before my daughter left for work, she opened the first real conversation about my transition we have had. She said she was considering stopping her therapy sessions again but before she did that she wanted to know if I had any more bombs to drop. She said she was 90% OK with things. She didn't see where she needed the regular monthly hand holding. When I had come out to her last year, about this time of the year, she had just stopped going to therapy. She did not want to repeat. We talked about how the cruise in December had helped her get more comfortable. She saw me in my finest and in public. Nothing traumatic happened. She had, also, had a chance to talk with her mother to get some concerns aired and some questions answered.
As for a bomb to drop, I am still wrestling with the GRS option. All I can say right now is the payload bay doors are still closed.
Stevi