Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

A few people have asked me, and I wondered even before they did, if homeowner's insurance covers bike theft. Mine specifically excludes "sports equipment", unless I pay extra, which I haven't done. A quick google suggests that that does indeed mean that yes, insurance companies (justifiably, in my case) consider a bicycle to be sports equipment. In other words, I'm SOL. That makes me feel a tad better about running out and buying Miss Indigo on credit so quickly.

( Mostly technical sex toy discussion ahoy! )

Speaking of getting things, the Wendling gave me a knife block for Chanukah. I have plenty of room in my kitchen drawer for knives, but my poor son cut his hand once when he was reaching in there. I thought I'd fix the safety issue. Besides, it's surely better for the knives, not that I have anything too fancy.

Shouldn't have: gone to the Merc last night to hang with J, A, and seelenschwester. I didn't stay out too late or overindulge so... it wasn't that bad?

Should have: applied grout sealant, as the home inspector said to do every six months when I bought the place. Yesterday marked six months to the day since I moved myself, as opposed to my stuff, into this here Devil Girl House.

Should have: covered my outside faucet. It's supposed to freeze here in a couple of days.

Yes, the hardware store on my usual bike route had its anniversary sale this weekend, complete with free complementary hot dogs & popcorn. I never had an Impossible® dog before yesterday.

Should have: gotten a magenta ink cartridge to I could print out more photos and mail them to Mom. I must say, it's a lovely if steep walk from my house due west to Ballard. There are public stairs, some cool Halloween decorations, and a house with gingerbread on it that I'm pretty sure is about 120 years old.

Speaking of Mom, Good Sister called yesterday afternoon to give me an update from Florida. GS's main message is that Mom's downward slide continues. Mom's talking less, probably because of aphasia. Although Mom can legally vote in this election, no one has taken any steps to make that happen, which GS & I agree is a bummer considering... Florida.

But first: Comcast Xfinity told me over the phone not to panic about that email saying I'd be disconnected tomorrow. If it happens anyway, I will be more cheesed off than the entire state of Wisconsin. Apparently their database still doesn't reflect the fact that the Devil Girl House is now one of five units on a lot that got subdivided. And that kind of thing is happening all over my neighborhood, as it has been for the last decade or so.

I got new bike shorts because my old ones were holey and ill-fitting. What I didn't notice when I ordered them from REI is that they have... booty padding. I did feel bruised the other day, so it'll be nice if that doesn't happen again. On the other hand, the care tags say they need to be hand washed. Le sigh. It's a good thing I only wear bike shorts in the summer.

Between the padded booty, the funny weighted shoes, and my hi-viz yellow T-shirts and helmet, I look like an Official Bicycle Dork® when I go on my morning rides now. I hope no one mistakes me for an actual serious cyclist; I'm just out there for a little exercise and some endorphins. It's occurred to me that I sometimes regret watching a movie or TV show, but I never regret a ride.

Edited to add: OK, I regret a ride if I get soaked, but mainly for the damage it does to the bike. And I usually avoid that: I'll walk down the hill to buy groceries instead of riding these days.

Now that I have more wall space than I used to, after over ten years I finally got around to framing and hanging art pieces that I've never hung before. The are:

1. A J.R. "Bob" Dobbs image, right next to the bouncy chairs so it stares vapidly at anyone sitting there. I bought it fair and square from the Church of the Subgenius.
2. A watercolor of a bird by kathrynt. There are two people who, more than any others, got me through transition. One, as regular readers surely know, is cupcake_goth. Kathryn is the other, but I hardly ever get to see her anymore because she lives in an outer suburb. (Back in the day I lived in relatively nearby inner suburb and was car scum.) I miss her, and now I have a reminder of her in a prominent place.

Four days no write. Nothing is wrong; I just didn't get around to it.

Skipped: a techno thing on Friday night in Pioneer Square, doors at 2300, in the same basement I'd been in six days earlier. When a longtime raver, probably the one who turned you onto that crew, tells you she's not going because she's afraid of COVID, it's not good. And then there's the whole issue of being a woman alone in Pioneer Square around midnight; I'd contacted said raver in the hopes of not being alone.

Not skipped: the Lambert House volunteer social. It was in Volunteer Park and we're law-abiding queers, so no booze. Aw. It wasn't bad, though.

Definitely not skipped: the Mercury. Despite the heat I still wore an overbust corset because me, but paired with a long, light skirt and strappy shoes. seelenschwester unironically femmed up was worth the trip. That woman's a maniac who hurts herself all the time in the service of beauty and fun, so I have to love what she does.

I had really bad mass transit mojo all weekend: waiting forever for a 10 and listening to a shouting match across John St, an E line rerouted through Queen Anne, and the 44 barely running after midnight. Was the universe trying to tell me to have less fun? If so, I will resolutely ignore it.

Oh: the horns are back up, covered in red duct tape. We'll see how well that holds up to the elements.

By request of a certain corvid I give you house horns:

They're made of armature wire and packing tape colored with oil-based Sharpie and then spray-lacquered. They've held up to light rain once, but I'm not sure that pigment is holding up to the sun. There may be further modifications to the horns. But for now, the Devil Girl House looks the part, inside and out.

My housewarming was last night. TL;DR: Success!

There was a diverse group of people there, from my real estate agent and an Evangelical fellow I used to work with at Microsoft to three people I've dated.

I only had one decoration, a pair of horns made of armature wire and packing tape colored red with sharpie. I hung them from the balcony, so the house had horns to match those of the devil girls in the art on my walls and the red horns on my head. Yes, I brought the goof.

I also brought the sushi. Four 12" platters from Uwajimaya were just about exactly enough for the dozen or so attendees. And was that four or five bottles of wine, mostly red, that I just put in the recycling? Five. It was lucky that people brought some. Plus a majority of the 1.8 liter bottle of sake, and about half the beer. Was my playlist long enough? Just barely, at a little over five hours.

No, there were no queer makeouts or other naughty activities, but there doesn't always have to be. The Tickler, who was crashed at my place, wants to make plans for same later. Splendid! They identified the two sapling trees in my tiny front yard: sourwood.

I'm not expecting any deliveries or visiting tradespeople next week. The house really is essentially as complete as it's going to get. What's next? Well, I guess we now return you to your regularly scheduled dating, circumflatulation, and dealings with my family and the rest of the world.

Yay: I can has coat rack. Yeah, it's July so I'm not going to need it for a while, but I'm ready.

Yay? The last of the blinds arrives tomorrow. I shall attempt sleep without a leather blindfold over my eyes.

Yay: I think I have... nearly enough alcohol for the housewarming.

Bah: The window cleaners did an excellent job on all the middle windows and the upper ones on the south side of the house, even using a razor blade (!) to get rid of the grime left over from construction. They didn't, however, get to the upper windows on the other two sides of the house, which also have construction grime. I'm beginning to wonder if they could even reach those; they had tall enough ladders, of course, but they may have had no places to put the feet. Le sigh. Ah well, my agent will be here for the housewarming on Saturday.

It's possible that I've gone to Florida for the last time already. Read on.

Good Sister called me up and gave me the very low down. Based on Evil Sister's observations this week – difficulty swallowing, limited speech, one hand twitching, the other hand limp – we've all concluded that Mom is unlikely to make it to the fall, never mind next year.

Good Sister has decided that there is to be no conventional funeral. I'm not bent out of shape about this because a real funeral would mean a) traveling a long, expensive distance to b) the hot, scary place that is Florida to see c) two people, one of whom doesn't want to see me, and d) no one else to appreciate it, because everyone Mom once called a friend is either dead, demented, or pissed off at Mom for something she did in the grip of dementia.

Good Sister reiterated her plan: following our parents' wishes and scattering their ashes in the Blue Ridge. I didn't know until then that it was both parents; I thought it was just Dad. Evil Sister proposed giving Mom's ashes to Cousin M for burial next to Mom's sister Aunt H, but no, GS and I are going to road trip together from the DC area. Good for Good Sister. I asked if ES would be joining us, and GS said no. That's too bad, and I told GS so. It's a missed opportunity. Now I'm wondering if I'll ever see my eldest sister again in addition to my mother. That was her choice, though.

Small house update: I have to take (some of?) my window screens down next week because window cleaners are coming. Apparently whoever delivered the screens didn't notify the builder as they were supposed to. There's still a pile of screens and no occupant at Absentee Neighbor's.