a night at the opera

Mom took me out to the University of Florida's (mostly) student production of The Magic Flute. It was a good time full of some amazing vocal performances; I'm pretty sure the Queen of the Night was one of the three pros. Yowza! Not to mention eighteenth-century low comedy and Masonic propaganda.

No joke about that last: Mozart and his librettist were both Freemasons, as was our esteemed first president. I like to imagine Pres. Washington and Herr Mozart giving each other the Masonic handshake, which I believe appears in The Magic Flute a few times.

I felt a few twinges of regret at abandoning Classical music all those years ago. Ah, the sound of chaotic mass warm-up noodling in the orchestra pit. The students did acquit themselves quite well, for the most part.

SFDs: I got dolled up much as I did on New Year's, i.e. in the black 50's retro dress, only bare-legged with open-toed strappy heels instead of hose & boots. Mom called me "a long-stemmed rose". She melted me on the spot.

wacky hijinks in Florida

Did a little corruption of the young by going shopping with fizzgig_bites and her adorably shy 9-year-old daughter. She had one question for me, namely, "How can you be a girl if you're born a boy?"
I asked her, "Do you mean, why do I feel like this or how do I do it?"
"Both."
I told her that it's difficult to explain to anybody who needs it explained. I told her I've known since I was her age at the latest. I told her about hormones, zappy, and voice lessons. But what I didn't tell her about was looking in the mirror and seeing something that nobody else could see, because I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have gotten that.

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Mom & I went to pick up Brunette Sister at the little, sleepy Gainesville airport. A barricade forced me to drop Mom off and then park my rental car, but as it happened, Mom saw an SUV drive by with Strawberry Blond Sister's daughter waving at her grandma. SB Sister's husband M was, unbeknownst to him, arriving on the same flight as Brunette Sister. Mom & I had a good laugh at that as we waited in the airport, but SB Sister and her kids waited in the parking lot.

M walked out of the security area, saw me, and blushed. He hugged me, said I looked good and that he'd come over tomorrow if he could get away. M told us, to our mild disappointment, that my sister had told him before he got on the plane that she'd be waiting outside. So, no fireworks this time.

Over pizza from our favorite local joint*, I told Brunette Sister some of my latest news about how I'm essentially an aspiring big pervy gay slut, pursuing Project Girlfriend in places where she would fear to tread. (Read: the CSPC.) She looked a little freaked, but she's still talking to me. We three got her hide-a-bed ready together.

I'll save telling her the post-Full Time stories, which you've already read, for the little coming out party tomorrow. I'll be wearing my opera outfit, of course. Naturally, I'll be sparing my mother's friends any details that could cause medical problems.



*Leonardo's Millhopper. I still had the number memorized: 352 376 2001. They ship anywhere in the lower 48 if you're willing to pay the hefty shipping.