Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

I haven't been silent the last four days because I was in a funk or anything, even if that would be a reasonable supposition. No, I've been out & about.

Thursday: latex dinner. A one-liter beer & schnitzel on Capitol Hill. The organizers were worried that we wouldn't be able to get enough space without a rezzo, but if you get enough rubber-clad freaks together, anything is possible. Yes, eye candy, but also listening to a fellow techie talk about the stress of dealing with a layoff from a certain local tech giant. Oy. I feel you, bro. And if I had any sense I'd get ready.

Speaking of work, I've been caught between the Scylla of security and the Charybdis of customer satisfaction. But I'm not facing it alone, and because I'm a social butterfly I've been made aware of options that I didn't know I had. Excelsior?

My son passed along an invitation to Ex's birthday dinner just hours before I was going to buy groceries to cook dinner for him. Good timing, kiddo. So yesterday he drove me all the way to Chuck's Hop Shop in Seward Park, where apparently they do real food more or less, and talked to Ex & her Mr. Right Now*.

Ex asked me if I was making plans to bug out of the US. Not seriously, I told her. A couple of other things she said prompted me to ask about her anxiety meds. There are things I miss about my ex, but her anxiety disorder is not among them. I'm not proud to say that when I first noticed her being worried & afraid about things that didn't really make sense not long after we met, I snickered at it. I didn't know what it was until years later. Moral: if you're in a new relationship and something seems off, don't ignore it.



*She's been dating him for what, ten years now? Fifteen? I can't even remember. But she really did call him that once.

After a sugaring appointment rendered a little chaotic by a four-year-old* I took the bus to the train, and then got the Wendling to pick me up because the 50 is the most useless bus route in Seattle. And where did this epic journey take me?

To Both Ways Cafe, where Ex was having a party for her sixtieth birthday. The food was amazing, of course, because Ex made most of it, and much of it was gluten free. Ex's brother, niece, nephew, cousins, dog trainer lady, rabbi, etc. were all there. Some of them flew in from California, but I was still the best dressed person there. In a few cases it took me several minutes to remember people's names despite sobriety. They remembered mine, of course.

It was kind of trippy telling Exbrother's bi daughter, whom I've known since she was a baby, about the Wildrose. Ex's childhood friend P, who's been having some success at writing (!), tells me she's given up on dating. Mayunn, het men need to suck less, especially the ones around sixty years old.

But Ex provided me with another reason to be there: I commissioned from her a pair of red ceramic horns to the balcony on the front of the Devil Girl House. You see, the ones that I have made of red tape and wire haven't withstood the elements despite some serious coating applied. They look perfect, and I intend to install them today. I have some neoprene to use as padding, which I think will be necessary.



*The lady who does my sugaring has a young son who inherited ADHD from both of his parents. He's... a handful, and his mother doesn't really have a reliable alternative to having him with her there at the salon. I feel sorry for her. And I'm glad I wore boots there yesterday because he broke some glass.

Jeez, has it only been two days since my last post? It feels like longer, because I've been a social butterfly.

Social thing #1: I saw gement! In their back yard! In the sun! And, well, it felt a little like a "summarize Proust" competition because I hadn't seen them since before the pandemic. My dating, travel, and sex toy adventures were among the things I remembered to tell them. They've been... spending a lot of time at home. They've been laid off from one of the tech giants and they have severe anxiety. The pandemic really didn't help their mental health, and they had their issues even before. I'm not sure how they're making ends meet, and it felt rude to ask.

Social thing #2: The Tickler came over! We had Korean eetz both for dinner and for brunch! There were the kind of activities that I don't post about in unlocked entries! And then they drove my son and me to Ex's for...

Social thing #3: ...carpooling to drinks in Kirkland for Ex's fella's birthday. Believe it or not, I had a good time. Mr. Right Now's wife's girlfriend works for Children's Hospital with trans kids, so she had lots of interesting things to say. I told her about the four Cs: coffee, coding, camming, and cat ears.

Ex gave me her late mother's iPad. I'm now determined to read a book by a trans author on that iPad, and maybe do other things with it that Nibsmother wouldn't approve of.

You wish you were here: there have been four perfect, sunny days in a row here in Seattle, and the cherries are blooming. Aw, yeah.

Over dinner* last night, my son and I started talking about taxes. He said something about the tax implications of moving in with me.
I stared at him, and told him that since he's a renter, there are no tax implications. "Don't you know the difference between renting and owning?"
"Yeah, but..."
"You don't own the place unless your name is on the title."

Characteristically, he told me to just forget it. But I didn't, natch. This is just another example of the bizarre ideas that just... appear inside his head from no source that I can identify. I can only speculate that I'd told him about the mortgage interest tax deduction, and he somehow thought that would magically apply to him.

I texted Ex. She, too, thinks it's odd, but she's not as concerned. I'm sitting here wondering what other... happy horseshit? Baubles of bullshit? Have materialized in his head. As if autism, ADHD, and anxiety weren't bad enough, the Wendling occasionally sees reality through something that makes it much prettier than it is. Maybe it's the flip side of anxiety, the voice that told him to drive down a steep hill on an unplowed side street to buy a magazine.

What do I do?



*Welsh rarebit, salad, and blueberries.

SistaWendy: Mom has passed away. Curious coincidence with the date, don't you think?
Ex: Indeed. She really wanted to underline her disapproval. Happy anniversary, and my condolences.
SW: I'm sorry for the rotten things she said.
Ex: Not your circus. You don't need to apologize.

I seem to have good taste in ex-wives and ex-girlfriends. I’m still looking for Ms. Right, though.

I went to see Leeni last night at Chop Suey – not to be confused with leenerella. I heard about her years ago from R. Imagine 8-bit, chiptune synthpop made by a woman who can sing. She sang a surprising number of... ballads? Is that what they were? About romantic love, feelings, and bleepiness. Thumbs up!

Because she's a synthesizer nerd, I have to tell you what her gear was: a Sequential Prophet Rev 2, a Roland that I think was a Juno-X, and a Nintendo Gameboy in which she changed cartridges mid-show. Wearing a black hoodie, a short black skirt, blue eye shadow with serious winged eyeliner, and orange animal print docs. She seems kind of shy, both as a performer and a person. Yes, I introduced myself. Yes, she's kind of cute & Mediterranean-looking. Shut up.

The band after her, L80 (pronounced "lady"), had a trans (?) performer. They were campy and Hedwig-esque. Not as much my jam as Leeni, so I went home at a reasonable hour. I didn't stick around for Ghost Fetish.

Ex called this morning, wanting the Wendling's SSN and voter registration address. She's, well, she's lost her mother. She says she wants to eat everything and vomit at the same time. I asked if she's pregnant.

She's fixated on estate planning now, and characteristically of both herself and her mother, she's trying to tell me how I should do it especially in regards to our son. I did not respond, and I'm not doing it her way. You're welcome, kiddo. Don't mess it up.

I've obtained a recommendation for movers from the same gang that recommended the crackerjack real estate agent. I've just emailed the movers, natch.

Speaking of the new house and concerns thereof, my son corrected my arithmetic. He earns about $2K a month, of which he's only paying about $300 in rent to his mother. I think he can contribute more. I think he should. 15% isn't much, and if he were really saving first & last to move out, he could have done that by now.

There will be at least one more serious talk with Ex.

I had to do something I haven't needed to do for weeks: bop on down to Ex's to get my car, and then again to return it to the Wendling. When I returned, Ex read my mind as exes do and sent the Wendling out to get us burgers from a south end joint. As we munched, I brought up the imminent end of alimony.

Good news: Ex had it down as Feb. 1. I had it down as Feb. 15. I'll happily take the former. My tacky little party may just happen sooner than I thought.

Bad news: Since our son will still be spending at least* five days a week with her and he isn't chipping in enough just yet, she still wants "help" with food & utilities for him. The figure she named, which she says is preliminary, was $500/month. That's a hell of a lot lower than the $4K/month I'm paying now, but I don't believe it's tax deductible for me. She, however, still has to report it as income. Why isn't the Wendling paying more rent? He will be, says Ex, but he does need to save up first, last, and deposit if he's ever going to be in his own place.

---

And on a completely unrelated note, my college housemate S blew into town and wanted to do brunch in Fremont. I hadn't seen her in person since the mid '90s. Hell yes, said I.

She has had an astoundingly varied career as a materials scientist for a major chip maker, a metal fabricator, a database monkey programmer, an Antarctica hand, and I can't even remember what all else. I definitely envied all the mad skillz and experiences she's picked up, but I think she may envy my relative financial stability. I hope we can both get some of what we envy about the other.

But! It turns out S and I have a lot in common: we're both Burners, we went to college together, and we both have... tastes. And regular readers know what I mean by "tastes" in an unlocked entry.

So now that's at least three people I have to meet up with the next time I go to Folsom: months ago I promised Taller Woman that we'd go together; K** is looking awfully promising as someone to go with; and S, who lives in the Bay Area, hasn't been to Folsom in years because she had no one to go with (!) and says she misses it. The Tickler is also wonderful to hang out with at Folsom, but at least historically she's had another girlfriend to stay with.

S & I passed through the Fremont Sunday Market on a sunny afternoon on our meandering way to Gas Works. I can see how the FSM would be a rich vein for Goths to mine for clothing & jewelry, but oddly enough, nothing grabbed me by the collar and insisted that I buy it.

Oh, here's a shallow fashion detail: I was wearing my Red Evil Princess Coat from Dracula Clothing, and I must have collected at least a dozen compliments from strangers about it. I haven't gotten quite that many in a day before, but people have noticed in the past. For a city where people hate to dress up, people sure appreciate you if you make the effort.



*His work schedule is changing to something nearly full time.
**I still haven't given K a moniker. I'm tempted to use a completely misleading pun on her name.

Ex wrote a story for KUOW about our last date during our divorce mediation. I contributed to the story. The editor wanted some photos of us for their web site because we couldn't for the life of us find one that was taken the day of.

So I got moderately dolled up* and bopped down to Canlis. Even ordinarily they have valet parking, and thanks to the pandemic they've been using their parking lot to serve customers, so I wasn't sure it would be OK to park in their lot. But park we did, and the staff, who started to arrive just after we did, was cool with it. Much photography and chatting ensued.

So when will the story go live? After the inauguration, and it'll get rerun (What was the word she used?) after Valentine's Day.

Ex is hoping Canlis throws us a bone for the positive press we've given them. I'm not holding my breath, but that would kick a lot of butt.

My doing this isn't just an exercise in vanity. Ex has thirteen months to triple her annual income, as she's fond of saying, because that's when I'm no longer obligated to pay alimony. Anything I can do to help her launch could benefit me.



*Shallow fashion details: black wrap top from WaYi, floral pencil skirt from Pinup Girl, black leggings, Fluevog Gladstone boots, bent horseshoe nail necklace, fairly ordinary makeup. OK, unusually I added eyebrow pencil.