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I showed up for my tabling shift for Lambert House at Cal Anderson Park for Seattle Trans Pride on time and helped set up. There were at least twice as many booths as there were last year, so the organizers had put us on the astroturf soccer field. Progress, I suppose. It was pretty mellow at the booths: I just told people what Lambert House is, how to apply as a volunteer, etc.
I did notice a couple police cars turning their sirens on and zooming near the park during the late afternoon, but if I hadn't been expecting fascists it wouldn't have occurred to me that anything might be out of the ordinary. Once the police got where they were going, I was too far or too occupied to see or hear what they were doing.
I had promised to meet Taller Woman for the Trans Pride march (yes, march, not parade) but I discovered that I'd gotten the starting location wrong. I got to look like a crazy person running up Broadway in my Trans Pride flag-patterned leggings.
You'd think that finding a 6'2" blonde in a sparkly hat would be easy, but not yesterday evening. Turnout looked to be at least double what it was the previous year. She told me that she was near the motorcycle cops, but there were apparently multiple contingents of them. So worked my phone, hung out in front of - inevitably - Dick's, and there she eventually was with a bunch of her Burner chums, including Lady T, whom I've written about here before, and E, whom I haven't.
Eats & drinks at Dumpling Tzar, more drinks by a cosy little fire pit in front of E's place. E will invite any and all passers-by to such gatherings; I gotta love old school Capitol Hill. At the end of that lovely evening, I lamented to Lady T about how difficult it is for me to achieve an orgasm. She's what you call an expert in solving such problems, and she expressed interest in doing so. My, my!
So in other words, a lovely evening with zero fash because fash are zeros. The Seattle police Twitter account and blotter don't say anything, either. Go us? Maybe.
Today I got gussied up for the Proprietress tonight, hit the street fair for a bit, and typed this up. Here's the outfit pic:
Now: time to go meet her at Cal Anderson!
I did notice a couple police cars turning their sirens on and zooming near the park during the late afternoon, but if I hadn't been expecting fascists it wouldn't have occurred to me that anything might be out of the ordinary. Once the police got where they were going, I was too far or too occupied to see or hear what they were doing.
I had promised to meet Taller Woman for the Trans Pride march (yes, march, not parade) but I discovered that I'd gotten the starting location wrong. I got to look like a crazy person running up Broadway in my Trans Pride flag-patterned leggings.
You'd think that finding a 6'2" blonde in a sparkly hat would be easy, but not yesterday evening. Turnout looked to be at least double what it was the previous year. She told me that she was near the motorcycle cops, but there were apparently multiple contingents of them. So worked my phone, hung out in front of - inevitably - Dick's, and there she eventually was with a bunch of her Burner chums, including Lady T, whom I've written about here before, and E, whom I haven't.
Eats & drinks at Dumpling Tzar, more drinks by a cosy little fire pit in front of E's place. E will invite any and all passers-by to such gatherings; I gotta love old school Capitol Hill. At the end of that lovely evening, I lamented to Lady T about how difficult it is for me to achieve an orgasm. She's what you call an expert in solving such problems, and she expressed interest in doing so. My, my!
So in other words, a lovely evening with zero fash because fash are zeros. The Seattle police Twitter account and blotter don't say anything, either. Go us? Maybe.
Today I got gussied up for the Proprietress tonight, hit the street fair for a bit, and typed this up. Here's the outfit pic:
Now: time to go meet her at Cal Anderson!
