So i haven't wrote a iota about anything those last days. At least not on my stories here, and very little on those other story's I, stupidly enough, promised to finish elsewhere. A promise made?

But those story are becoming sooo big (It's definitely the stories fault, not mine. They just don't want to finish. Yep, I think they are 'fighting back'?). And as I only use two fingers writing I'm expecting them to soon enough just be stubs of their former existence, the fingers that is, well maybe the stories too? If I don't continue writing them that is.

DIY surgery isn't usually recommended by the medical profession. However, one Columbian farmer decided to cut loose. See the attached link.

http://news.uk.msn.com/world/articles.aspx?cp-documentid=151...

Hopefully I'll have two fairly long stories that will post soon. Because of their length they'll be in chapter sized chunks. Also because I want to help support Bob's Star Dust they will be posted first there. I guess I'm just sentimental because not was my very first story posted at Star Dust but Bob was the very first person to comment on one of mine.

It's hard to believe, but just over two years ago, I posted my first "segment" of Who Was I. I believe my writing's improved a more than a little bit over the course of that time (though, you don't see this, as you generally only see stuff that have been edited). I pity those editors, but I also really appreciate them.

For a while, I was not here, reading, nor commenting, here is why. Tuesday, I lost the internet, cable and phone, Service was restored to the cable Wednesday afternoon, but it tok until recently to restore the internet and phone, but I have to wait until later today to get my old number.

Stanman May Your Light Forever Shine

Two of my siblings have been supportive to me to the extent that they tolerate me and don't call me a faggot. Still, neither of them ever get the pronouns right, though my younger brother is trying. I think that both of them just see me as stark raving bongers mad.

So, my older brother lives alone about 100 miles from me. He is an irascable old fart, but he does not do his temper bit with me because he knows that I would cry and leave. I did spend some time with him at thanksgiving for his benefit, not mine and almost got up and left a couple times because of his pronoun problem.

Those readers possessed of a specially sensitive and caring nature may have passed sleepless nights a couple of months ago as they agonised over the problems I was experiencing whilst trying to insert pictures and fancy text into the teaser of "An Eft in Her Bra."

Such exceptional souls may recall that Bobbie offered to compile an idiot's guide for those, such as myself, to whom computers and all associated with them are shrouded in a malignant mist.

I wanted to thank everyone for their love and kindness to me the last few months. As many of you may know, I only started writing this year, and that has been so wonderful and rich and special. You may also know about my tremor disorder and the challenges I've faced, along with my wife's health this year.

You may know about my most recent challenge; diagnosed with PTSD after memories of being sexually abused along with my sis by a family member when we were little.

As many of you might have realised, I have a questionable love of Limericks, so I thought with the festive season just around the corner, a Christmas Limerickathon might turn out to be quite entertaining.