sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Poutine and mighty fine absinthe at the Gainesbourg with J & R Friday night. It's almost as if they're keeping their killer selection a secret - you have to ask for the list, at least these days - and they've got the best stuff in town. Strange.

I attempted to have a date with Much Younger Woman at the Merc on Saturday night, but she bailed at the last minute due to brain issues. Le sigh. I'd even dressed sexy.

Was a sleepy zombie yesterday, but still managed to take care of business. Currently at StartupCo's annual conference. Grenade is here again. Much excitement tomorrow and the next day, some of which will take me away from my son. I'm not pleased about that.
sistawendy: (eek)
I went out with the Tickler last night to see Cut Copy at the Neptune. But first, eetz: Since she really needs something gluten free, we went to Bol on 64th - the Tickler says not to go to the nearby test kitchen because it sucks several ways. Bol is a pho joint as conceived by hipsters: a simple, fairly ordinary menu with choice ingredients; good alcohol, appetizers, & dessert; higher prices; annoyingly hip utensils; and a smoking hot waitress with queer hair. Sure, would nom again, and not just because of the waitress, who the Tickler assures me is monogamously partnered up.

Minor problem: Bol is on 64th. The Neptune is on 45th. The Tickler resolved to drive us despite the pain that is parking in the U District. We were just a block from the Neptune in the fading twilight when she pulled over to let an ambulance by. As she was starting to get into the left lane, we got sideswiped by a black Nissan Leaf. I'm pretty sure it was speeding in the wake of the ambulance because its airbag deployed. Oh by the way, we hit an Uber in front of us, no thanks to Newtonian mechanics.

We're fine. In fact, ibuprofen last night was all it took for me. The Tickler may be shaken up a little worse, but she didn't do too badly either. She mulled seeing a doctor today, but I don't think I need to.

We spent most of the concert dealing with insurance & police, sometimes with me holding my umbrella over the Tickler. (Fun fact: the first cop on the scene, a UW officer, said he couldn't handle the case because the Leaf driver is a UW employee. Appearances, you know.) Once the Tickler's car, which isn't drivable but doesn't look that bad, got towed away, we walked one block to the Neptune in time to catch Cut Copy's encore. I'd planned to meet up with R & J there, but we never got closer than a text message. I got the Tickler a much needed whiskey, we peed, and we went back to her place. It occurred to both of us that our usual shenanigans were medically contraindicated; cuddles ensued.

I really did say this morning, "I had a lovely time crashing with you last night." How could I not?
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
Good: A date with the Tickler last night. Dinner at Capitol Cider - they have tasty gluten free eats, which she really needs. This was one of those places that I've walked past dozens of times; I now regret not eating there sooner. Next, the SEX.WAV night at the Merc. We were actually in theme, showing lots of skin, and we both loved the music. (Yeah, I had to change clothes in the bathroom at work and put on my long, Goth hoodie.) Resolved: we shall show up to that night later, bring moar peeps, and plan a sleepover afterwards.

Bad: It looks like I'm going to miss an orgy this weekend because it sold out. I'd known I needed a ticket for days. I guess I wasn't feeling it that much if I didn't buy one. Ah well, it was going to be a pain to get to & from anyway. ETA: This orgy is also co-ed, which isn't my favorite.

Ugly: Good Sister called about Mom yesterday. Says GS, Mom recently switched doctors because Evil Sister was trying to talk to her previous doc about just how incapacitated Mom is. Apparently Mom's afraid of getting thrown in a home against her will. Also says GS, Mom never told ES that she switched medical power of attorney from ES to me. Sadly, these are typical Mom moves these days. ES's elder daughter E will be the only blood remaining in town with Mom as of the end of this month, and ES has at least prevailed upon Mom to call E in the event of an emergency. (GS reminded me of why E, along with everyone else except me, has reason to want nothing to do with Mom and shouldn't be counted on for any regular supervision.) Both my sisters are concerned with Mom's continued vulnerability to scammers, but there are signs that Mom is finally accepting the fact that she's "gullible" - her word - and addled - my word. Goddamn, I miss my dad.
sistawendy: (hopeful nun)
Last night: Ethiopian eetz with Funny Lady. Oddly enough, neither of us made much of an attempt to look fabulous. I blame the recent disgusting weather. Nevertheless, I had a lovely time, even if the food was meh*. The best part? FL looks as if she may once again hook me up, If You Know What I Mean. Watch this space. I should sacrifice a lube packet in front of her picture or something.

Tonight: A remote teammate is in town. I've prevailed upon my team to go out for heavy metal, snobby beer, and vegan food at the Highline, which is where I usually eat on my way to Lambert House. I expect awesomeness. We may flee when the band starts up at 2100, but there are plenty of places to flee to.

ETA @ 1529: Brown Eyes just texted me. She's regained consciousness after surgery. Happiness.



*Our fave, Meskel, is closed for two months due to "a family emergency", say the signs on the doors. I hope that has nothing to do with the US political situation. We went to the much larger Assimba.
sistawendy: (weirded out)
Interesting fact about the Siberian Siren: she's afraid of dogs. Or at least she was, until she got a Husky mix puppy. She says she's cured now that she's had one for a few months. And she's about to celebrate her third anniversary with A, and asked for suggestions for something truly special to do to observe it. No marriage proposals, though, because she's against that, she says. I'm afraid I wasn't much help.
"Can I be jealous?" I asked.
"No."
It warms my cockles, though, to see A and this little pup file down some of the SS's rough edges. And if I remember, I'll keep thinking if things she could do for or with A. I think they both have it coming.

Took a co-worker, L, to the Mercury. It was her first time there. There was supposed to be at least four of us from StartupCo, but a couple of us got various kinds of crud. It was... surprisingly uneventful. There were many boozes. L met the dress code, no problem - cute shoes! - and R and I regaled her with tales of the Merc's past, among other things. With apologies to Auto Battery, having a pizza joint upstairs is a good idea; I just wish I could learn to stop hoping for good vegan pizza.

Lunch with the Islander on this beautiful Sunday. Her post-surgical health is improving, but it's a real struggle for her. I may not be the angel of death, but I'm starting to think I'm the angel of serious medical issues. It's been pointed out to me more than once that since I'm pushing fifty, and the ladies I'm dating aren't far behind me, this sort of thing is more likely regardless of angelic interference.

No bike rides this weekend, but I was compelled to walk around Green Lake in the sun.
sistawendy: (lizzy)
The US House of Representatives is trying to kill my son's mother and several of my friends. I do not currently have the words to describe how wrong this is. My rep is cool, but the rest shall hear from me, one way or another.
I had an intense craving for vegan eetz yesterday, so Wayward with Much Younger Woman hit the spot. It's a pity I was too low on sleep for any shenanigans afterward; see below. We resolved to engage in shenanigans later, though.
Visited by the insomnia fairy last night. Thank the universe that StartupCo is OK with my showing up hella late. You could say I paid in advance by working until 2330 the other night, finding a major issue with the flagship product, and taking the lead on making a new release go smoothly. Gotta drive it like you stole it when you're a woman.
sistawendy: (flirty hippy)
This has been the weekend of minor things going wrong, and Just Dealing With Them:
  1. M'boy needed my help to close his savings account that we opened when he was a minor. I ended up leaving my driver's license in the bank branch at the other end of Seattle, near Ex's. Good thing my passport is valid: I used it to get into the Mercury last night. (More about which shortly.) I got to try out Lyft for the first time too - I nuked Uber for awful labor practices and its support of 45.
  2. My bathroom sink backed up right before I needed to put on makeup for said trip to the Mercury. Drāno works great if you let it work overnight. Ahem.
  3. I didn't have time to put sheets on my bed before I left last night.
  4. Right before I left for dinner with [personal profile] m_cobweb & co. I found out that I have a flat tire. Luckily, m'boy won't be using the car until at least Tuesday, and truth be told he can cope without it.
  5. Stuff broke at work last night. I was on call, but I was also on a date. I didn't get alerted, so somebody else found the problem and took care of it. I'm not sure whether that's bad or not.
Speaking of that date I keep alluding to, I took Brown Eyes to the Mercury for date #2. She hadn't been since about 2001. It was all pretty lovely: we have gabfests when we're together, and I introduced her to gimlets. There was ahem. (Hey, at least we did our making out off the dance floor.) We went back to her place, which is a mother-in-law apartment in a house owned by an old lesbian artist on Beacon Hill. (The exterior of the house and especially the back yard, by the way, look fantastic.) There were some really good times had, but not a lot of sleep. I confess to feeling a little pang of 'Awww' when she mentioned how much she likes living alone, but I fink she freaky and I like her a lot. We have... much in common.

Oh yeah: she drove me home to the north end, and took me out to Blue Star for a badly needed and quite tasty breakfast. That's right: I walked into a breakfast joint in Wallingford wearing a sheer top, corset, short skirt, red fishnets, and Fluevog heels with leather laces up the back. No makeup, though, because what Brown Eyes didn't kiss off me I'd removed. I did notice one white-bearded gent giving me a good stare.

Did my usual morning workout, got my apartment put back together, and crashed. Was late for [personal profile] m_cobweb, about which I'm not proud. However, the owner of the late, lamented Night Kitchen was there. I got to tell her about how a bunch of us ate there the first night of my new life as a woman. She loved that story. She also drove me home (!) when she found out I would have otherwise had a really long bus ride.* I kind of wondered what she was doing after the Night Kitchen closed, and the answer is, embarking on a tech career. I wish her all happiness; she brought much happiness to her customers, including me.



*The 41 from Lake City, near Seattle's northeast corner, all the way downtown, and thence to an E, which goes back north up the middle to my place. Stoopit, right? About the only east-west routes in the north end are the ones going to the UW, and they don't intersect with the 41.
sistawendy: (hopeful nun)
I went two train stops up the line on Capitol Hill to pick up kinky queer comics, like you do, when I met up with the Siberian Siren for lunch. We got to talking about me and my dating life. Said she, essentially, look for women whose life goals & situation are better aligned with mine, to wit:
  • Stop dating younger women so much. They're probably less ready to settle down than I am, and one of them straight up told me she's afraid of having to play nursemaid to an aging partner.
  • This will be controversial: more lesbians. The SS is more sanguine than I am about transphobia in the lesbian community. (Now that I think about it, that may be because she's much younger than I am.) She says I shouldn't give up on the roughly half of queer women that are more or less exclusively into other women just because I haven't gotten any nibbles (ha) from them to date.
  • In that vein, show up to their events like Hot Flash (made for women my age, but even the SS agrees that the music is abominable) or Kiss Off (on hiatus until Pride - le sigh). The Siren told me, quite without needing to, that the Wildrose isn't a good place to meet women.
By the way, lunch was from a taqueria that I'd somehow missed in my many years of walking up & down Broadway: Tacos Chukis. Good, cheap, fast food in small portions. A+ will nom again! Most of their seats were full and the SS was well aware of them, so clearly I was the only one who missed them. In my defense, their exterior sign is at the top of a jumble of several, and even inside their little old arcade, you're not going to find them if you're not looking for them.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Dinner at Cafe Ibex with the Tickler: not-bad Ethiopian food with some dishes I'd never had before, but I think I like Meskel better. Also, the service isn't great. We were the only non-Ethiopians in the joint, which didn't start to get at all busy until about 2100.

Then dancing with the Tickler last night at a big, crowded, super hippy night thrown by the Ents in Tents crew. This show had some of the best decor and other visuals I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. There were quite a few vendors selling some really nice things, too. The DJs, though? Distinctly meh, even if the Tickler liked them more than I did. Eye candy? Quite good. Happiness is having someone you can be a dirty old woman with. Not that dirty, though: when we got back to her place, her tummy started to rebel. Aw.

Bus happiness: when you get on a bus that takes you all the way from West Seattle through downtown to the north end, changing route numbers along the way, so you don't have to change buses. Aw, yeah.

Shortly after I got home, I had a work situation that lasted about three hours. Moral: automated provisioning is a good thing, so do it early in your project's history.

Met with Grenade. We have... plans for each other. Artistic plans. More or less.

I've been so all over the place this weekend that I haven't worked out, not even a walk around the lake. Time to get back on the horse tomorrow.
sistawendy: (skeptic coy Gorey tilted down)
Yesterday got away from me, but I did learn one thing: If you want some southern(-influenced) food that's bad for you, don't go to Sexton in Ballard. Overcrowded, overpriced, underserved, and not quite right with the recipes. (Italianate grits? Really?) It's a good thing R & J are such good company, or the night would have been a bummer. Ballard has a ton of restaurants now, a shockingly high number of which reek of precious hipsterism, including Sexton. And they all seem to be doing a roaring trade. I think it's time to seek out the ones without the reek.

If you want the kind of food Sexton advertises, go to Witness or Skillet on Capitol Hill instead. Witness in particular is a favorite of the Siberian Siren's & mine.
sistawendy: (lizzy)
Ex is leaving town on business for ten days, so I get her car and my son's absence - he's dogsitting - but she wants me to have dinner with him a couple of times. She put his to-do list on his bedroom mirror. To discuss all of this we had dinner at Raconteur, the restaurant attached to the Third Place Books in Seward Park. It's better than it has any right to be.

Political stuff:
  1. There's a town hall for state representatives in the WA 36th, Sunday 1/29 at 1330 at Ballard High School. I'll be there to bring up trans issues, fighting Trump, etc.
  2. Called my US Senators about the REINS act.
  3. Will call my US Senators about DeVos & Sessions.
  4. Considering giving $ to the Lakota People's Law Project. Shawn King's twitter feed has a set organizations fighting DAPL.
Yeah, I'm a bit unfocused about this. My big issue is the ACA, but I'll get to that later.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Three days, no post, but only because I've been busy.

Sunday post-march: caught up with housework.

Monday morning: Got up at 0500 to take m'boy to court out in one of Seattle's outer suburbs (Issaquah) to challenge the moving violation he got for his accident. Case dismissed, i.e. victory! Go go gadget efffective legal representation, arranged and paid for by Ex. We never even saw the motion that the lawyer wrote. For the three of us, it was maybe an hour of waiting and then two minutes of listening to the lawyer talk to the judge. Now I need to see if I can get a needed break on my son's insurance.

Monday evening: My son & I had a combined belated-birthday-cum-legal-victory pizza at our favorite place on Phinney Ridge, namely Cornuto. He bought. Their menu has changed, but not for the worse.

Slept really well.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
At almost the last minute, I decided to go to a small social thing on Capitol Hill last night. I missed it in spacetime, stopped by Everyday Music and got a Nickodemus disc, and then got on the train going the wrong way. Yeah, go ahead, laugh, but I'm used to the north entrance to Capitol Hill station because it's close to the Siberian Siren's. So I ended up in the U-District. Called Much Younger Woman, whose place is on the way home for me, from the 44. She didn't return my call until I was in Wallingford, well past her place. I consoled myself with Japanese fried chicken, agedashi tofu, and saké at Issian, to which the Islander turned me on. Oh, and I picked up more envelopes for elector letters because there was a drug store right next to where I got off the bus in Wallingford.

Ex took my son away yesterday. He seems to be recovering nicely. To tell you the truth, I don't know where he's spending the night tonight. Gosh, I better find that out.

I'm wearing a whole lot of stretch velvet right now because brrr!
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
Lovely Indian dinner* with the Siberian Siren. Don't complain about a bad political situation to a Russian: she might tell you how Putin's goons dissolve the bodies of pesky journalists in acid. Then you worry even more about just how bad things could get.

And to be fair, she's had other things on her mind lately. Her maternal uncle died, leaving her severely disabled grandmother all but alone in Siberia. Her mom no longer has a valid Russian passport, but is going there anyway with a visa to make arrangements, having instructed the rest of her family that under no circumstances are any of them to travel to Russia. The SS is worried she may never see her mother again. Christ on a pogo stick.

Letters to electors: Done with TX. On to GA!



*Anapurna on Broadway. I've been walking past that place for decades, but never ate there. 'Sokay. Endearingly funky cramped basement with folk art on the walls. The Siren likes it more than I do.
sistawendy: (dolly)
Ethiopian dinner at Meskel with Funny Lady. Ate too much because Meskel is delish, told every '16 Burn story I could remember, and relaxed just enough. I really like hanging out with FL. I think I finally managed not to get out-dressed by her. I decided to go go-go:

Not my usual look.

Dress: by Desigual, from the boutique across from the Tin Shed restaurant in Portland. I bought it on the way back from Burning Man. Boots: new Fluevog Jillians. (How fortunate for me that [livejournal.com profile] cupcake_goth doesn't like them. They're way more my style than hers.) Yes, they were 40% off, but my quota of one pair per year is now used up until 2018. I'm pretty sure I have a shoe problem now. And that problem is that I'm out of space for them in my closet.
Speaking of Burning Man-related events, Seacompression isn't happening this year because nobody could be bothered to run it. Le sigh. There is, however, a Burners Without Borders thingy at the old Rainier brewery. Have ticket, will show.
sistawendy: (stern nun)
I spent all afternoon Saturday & Sunday cleaning, drying, and stowing all my playa clothes and camping gear. My sleeping bag needs a trip to a laundromat; it's too big to fit in the usual size of washing machine. The Wendling got my car washed because, as the one driving it, he thought it would be a good idea if he could see out of it. I'm proud of him. It's still dusty on the inside, though.

I did find time to tell tales to the Siberian Siren at Witness, which of course ran late. Did you know the owner of Witness delivers a sermon of sorts on Saturday nights? I didn't. The clams & sausage there are fantastic. And I knew the SS was a regular at witness, but sheesh, they treat her like the tsarevna she is. Last night: [livejournal.com profile] ionan & J at Thaiku. Since those two are (former?) Burners, they get my stories better than most.

Dating? Kind of happening. The woman I had such a good time with at the Merc a few weeks back says she's in a relationship now. (?!) Much Younger Woman can fit me in for dinner, though, and there's not-officially-a-date-but-I'm-not-entirely-sure-anymore with Funny Lady.
sistawendy: (drama)
I went out for Greek food (Mykonos - 'Sokay) and a walk around Green Lake with the Islander. I kept hoping I could find a romantic spot for twilight ahem, but the benches were occupied and my favorite pier was full of people who were apparently having a mini-rave with, it must be said, some choice tunes. I've never felt so conflicted on a date in my life. Well, as she warned me, she was getting over a cold and coughed quite a bit. Maybe the paucity of snogs was for the best.

She was going to take a bus from near the northeast corner of the lake where we started, but it was going to take so long that I offered to walk her to Aurora to catch the E. That was a wait, too, so we ducked into St. Andrews, where work paged her. Le sigh. At least I got to keep her (and some beers) company while she dealt with the situation. She ended up taking Uber home.

I had earlier considered going dancing later that night, but after walking about four miles in my gladiator sandals my dogs were barking. Not that I'm complaining about dating a woman who's willing & able to walk all the way around the lake with me; I love that.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
Went to Itto's Tapas in West Seattle with the Tickler Saturday night. Lovely food & drinks outdoors; will munch there again. We walked a few blocks to chase the sunset while singing "Sodomy" from the musical Hair, because the Tickler is cool like that.

Not so cool was what the little bit of bread and ice cream did to her shortly after we got back to her place. It was a gamble, as she said at the time, but she lost. So, the evening got a bit truncated - no dancing, abbreviated ahem - but I'm not too put out by it because cuddles. Breakfast at her place, which has a sliver of a view of the harbor, was really nice.
Over the last few weeks I've had teeth and occasionally my left jaw joint be so sore that I've had to take ibuprofen a couple of times a day. It hurts enough to wake me up. The Tickler speculates that it might be TMJ. When she had it it was stress-related, but the only really stressful thing in my life these days is my son, and that's been going on for nearly two decades.

But there was one other thing I learned at the Tickler's: I didn't bring my night guard, which I usually wear at night to prevent tooth grinding. Lo and behold, no jaw soreness yesterday morning (but still some sore molars). I had some alterations to my most recent crown two or three months ago, so now I'm wondering if my night guard no longer fits.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
Went to my second annual pah-tay with the Siberian Siren & her partner A at the SS's hair salon, Collage, on 5th Ave. Best piece of Pride gear: a BiBi-8 t-shirt. Yes, BB-8 in bi Pride colors, worn by one of many cute queer black women about half my age. As always, first rate food & booze because (co-ed) urban queers.

The parade is on 4th Ave. Since it's such a long parade, I don't feel too bad about missing the beginning & end of it. Indeed, A & I agree that the best part of watching the parade was watching the Siren watch the parade. Here's this hardass, hard-headed Russian, who in many ways has had a hard life, turning into a wildly enthusiastic child right before our eyes. Happiness.

The SS didn't want to do the sardine scene that is the Seattle Center, at the end of the parade route. She was under the impression that there was more Pride-related stuff happening on Capitol Hill than there turned out to be. Nevertheless, we still had a lovely walk, yummy dinner at Chop Shop*, and Molly Moon's for ice cream. (That last was my idea. It's a personal Pride tradition.)

Oh: there were four of us. A & the SS had a houseguest, H, a younger bi woman who was crashing under their stairs, Harry Potter-style. She was raised very Jewish, so talking about it with H was a weird blast from my past. Her advice: don't be a tall or fat straight woman in Israel; her sister is both.

One member of Chop Shop's staff, a fellow with an accent that may have been east European, tried to direct me to the men's restroom. Not happening. H was right behind me in the women's, and I asked her, "Did I just experience a transphobic bummer?" She said, "Yup."

Netflix and chill at the SS's place. This is not a euphemism for a lesbian orgy, for better or worse; we really did watch TV & veg out for a while. I took the train to the UW, then the 44 to Fremont and walked the rest of the 30+ blocks home so I could burn some ice cream and watch the sunset from Phinney Ridge.

For Pride next year:
  • I've never been to R Place. Yeah, I know it's huge and full of kids and lowest-common-denominator music, but I have to do it once, right?
  • Dimples & Blondie are not wrong about the Wildrose: it's better for dancing than drinking on Pride. The gay men's joints, e.g. Purr, the Cuff, and Pony, might be a better option.
  • The Merc on Pride didn't suck. [livejournal.com profile] seelenschwester did a Lambert House benefit, which is of course dear to my heart. But I'm a regular at the Merc, so it seems somehow un-Pridelike.
  • If I'm going to take a lady friend home, it needs to be well before midnight. I'm too old to stay awake otherwise.
  • For heavens sake, mass transit from the Hill is useless after 0030.




*Our waiter was a chatty beardo, and the food was oh so hip & hipster. But damn, it was good, and the price wasn't out of line. I'm so conflicted when I eat at places like that.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
Got into work late because of insomnia. No, really. SFDs: my leggings with the Pride flag on the front & stars 'n stripes on the back (zillions of comments about those), black camisole, black hoodie with tails, Pride-themed accessories, cowboy boots. In other words, an outfit suitable for both marching and flirting.

But then! Left work early to take the train to the Trans march! This year we gathered, conveniently, right outside Capitol Hill station. Met up with Dimples, [livejournal.com profile] fullcontactmuse, [livejournal.com profile] bork, [livejournal.com profile] arjache, and a gazillion other trans friends, including one who I didn't know was trans until then. (!)

So yes, marching & chanting. Turnout looked significantly larger than last year, but it's always hard to judge these things when you're in the middle of the turnout. There were a lot of journalists and people on the sidewalks with video cameras & tripods. I'm not sure what that was about, but I'm sure I'll find out soon.

And then the sky opened up. Dimples needed dinner, so at her recommendation we found the Ezell's fried chicken truck (Lives up to the hype!) and ate it hurriedly under a tree while we got soaked. We dashed into Elliot Bay Books to dry off. We checked out and, in my case, bought queer-themed books, duh. (I felt guilty for dripping on the hardwood floor.) Dimples found a lesbian sex manual with perfectly reasonable text, but photography that looked aimed squarely at the male gaze. We suspect either clueless or evil publishers. Oh yeah: Dimples's chum Blondie joined us.*

Off to the Wildrose! There were a great many NSPP QIFs (pronounced "nispie queefs"). Dimples & Blondie were taken aback by the high cover & low drink value, so we hit the Comet for a little bit. They don't seem to have realized how straight the Comet is**, but hey, cheaper and better booze.

Back to the 'Rose, where I got to entertain D & B by going wibbly over a high femme Middle Eastern girl half my age. I did manage to tell her I loved her outfit.

Oh, the night's lone bummer: the 'Rose has two bathrooms, women only and unisex. I realized belatedly that the staffer at the doors was about to shunt me into the latter. After I peed, I told her, "I'm a woman. You can send me in there." To her credit, a few minutes later she found me and apologized.

Missed the last train home. Took the 49 to the U District, where I found out that I'd apparently also missed the last 45 to Green Lake. Uber took me home by a bizarrely circuitous route needlessly involving two different bridges, but get home I did.

Today: I get to be the high femme. There will be the Capitol Hill street fair, a BBQ at the Siberian Siren's, and the Merc with the Islander. The Tickler made plans to meet me next weekend, which works out perfectly.



*I have a lamentable history of assuming queer women I meet together are, you know, together when they're really not. This was once again the case with Dimples & Blondie. They're college chums and, I believe, used to be an item.
**Since the early '90s, I'd walked past the Comet hundreds of times without ever going in. This would explain why I didn't notice that the Comet has apparently ceased to be a live music venue and has blandly if profitably gone upmarket. Yeah, the old Comet was a place I wouldn't want to go into alone, but damn.

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