Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

Had a lovely time at a certain solstice pah-tay. Homemade, lite-'n-fluffy egg nog; hypnotic TV, including "how things are made" videos and early CGI; and people wearing blinky lights. I wore two long velvet skirts with my scissor leggings underneath. Of course I showed off the latter because how could I not? I blame vixyish for being a wonderful enabler. And I was saved from walking to and waiting for the bus on a -3C night when another partygoer offered me a ride home.

This morning I went with the Siberian Siren to get our nails done in Renton. Why there? The SS wanted something super fancy, but didn't want to spend $100 on a manicure. While there, I found out that Exdad has taken a turn for the worse, which I didn't realize until after I'd said something kind of cheeky about how I couldn't walk Ex's dog just then and that she should ask our son instead of me. D'oh! After eats and electrolysis, I took my fab new FM red nails to Ex's and walked the dog.

The latest information I have is that Exdad was on his way to an ICU in Seattle, having possibly had another stroke, where they'll try to get him read for shunt surgery. His pneumonia complicates that. So yeah, Ex is kind of in hell right now. I have put the word on our son not to be a pill to her while I'm in Florida.

Oh: the SS gave me Russian halva, AKA crumbly gray crack, for Christmas. I shared it with m'boy after a pizza at our fave vera pizza joint up the hill. He agrees with my assessment of its addictiveness. I could make it if I had a blender, which I'm tempted to do if I ever need to bring a dessert.

Finished sewing 20' of EL wire to my playa coat. That was about ten hours I hope were well spent.

Got stood up by my first date on Saturday night. Stay classy, OKCupid ladies. Not to worry: I deliberately wore warm-weather Goth so I could hang at El Norte and show off the aforementioned coat to its previous owner, cupcake_goth.

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Dried one bunch of kale and a quart (wet volume) of strawberries. I'm basically going to dry all the things until I run out of either container or fridge space*, whichever comes first. The to-dry list:

• a second bunch of kale
• more strawberries
• broccoli
• marinated tofu
• maybe blueberries - Blanching them to break the skins but not enough to turn them to mush is tricky.
• maybe jerky - I'd need to feel super-motivated for this.
• But dude, squid in Korean spices or salmon? Could be bomb.

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My teeth were fine all of yesterday on just morning ibuprofen, until I tried to go to sleep last night. I took two vitamin I and went to bed, and then they started throbbing. I suspect I did a poor job of pain management yesterday and paid the price for it.



*Yes, I'm keeping them in the fridge until I leave. That's what the dehydrator manufacturer recommends.

Friday: A planned evening of housework and goofing off. The Islander postponed our date a week due to illness.

Yesterday: Saw Ghostbusters, which is definitely a worthy successor. I kind of feel guilty for not having the same reaction to it that so many of my cis girlfriends have had, though; I didn't grow up knowing I was being erased, and depicted as less than what I was*. No, what I found myself doing was studying the way the Ghostbusters interacted with each other. Studying that kind of thing becomes a habit if you're trans and not dumb as a brick. I kept having to remind myself that it's a movie, and doesn't necessarily have anything to teach me.

Also yesterday: Getting lost in the south end on the way to a certain lovely house full of Goths because it's not that far from Ex's and I somehow got the routes tangled in my head. Found house! Fabulous drinks, eetz, and chats ensued.

Also also yesterday: Went to Substation for a night called Board of Deacons. Yes, of course serious Christian Riz Rollins was involved. It was profoundly disco-flavored house, with all Black DJs and a surprisingly Black crowd considering that Substation is in Frelard. I haven't danced so much in quite a while. Bonus: I met a woman with duct tape just above her breasts. I asked about it. She'd just been suspended from hooks, not rope, she said, and there was gauze under the duct tape. Well then! Ah, such a Seattle moment.

Today: Picked figs in the south end from trees belonging to a friend of my Ex's. I went to the wrong house first and was miffed to find nobody home and plum trees instead of figs. Gosh, that could have gone very, very badly. I need to, you know, not read emails containing addresses with my glasses off. But I did manage to pick a couple of gallons of figs, of which I gave half to my ex. My share are currently quartered and drying for )'(. They were so ripe and so delicate that they were like jam in little wet paper bags nearly the size of my fist in a pair of 25' trees. I must have burst at least a dozen of them in the tree or on the way down; I tried not to let them go to waste. Nom!



*OK, OK, I realize that trans representation was abysmal to nonexistent when I was a kid. But that situation was so bad I didn't even realize it was that bad until much later in life.

No, not the fun kind, oxalic acid to try to get rid of the drywall dust in my bathtub from the emergency plumbing repair a few months ago. The tub isn't pristine now, but it's vastly improved. Leave it to randomdreams to suggest something kind of scary that really works. Ah luv yew, mayunn. How scary? I followed the directions and used rubber gloves & safety glasses, and since one of my gloves leaked, I got some on one hand and scrubbed one-handed. Boy am I glad I took precautions. I also coughed a few times from the fumes even with the window open.

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In further domestic news, I just ate an entire bunch of kale, dried (nearly) completely in one (1) hour. I think I got the salt, oil, and time just right this time. Drying right now: a pound of tofu that I marinated for an hour in shoyu & sesame oil. My lake place smells heavenly. And I'll probably be running the dehydrator whenever I'm home for two or three weeks before Burning Man.

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Last night? All the social. My neighbor, all gussied up, invited me over to a party at their place. I was unbathed and in my workout clothes. I know they told me earlier, but I forgot to put it in my calendar. D'oh! I'd been planning to hang out with cupcake_goth at the '80s night at El Norte. I did manage both, and I showed all those pretty straight girls next door how we do it Goth style. How we do it has started to involve a few extra steps for me due to recent weight loss, but it's nothing I can't handle.

Hilarity for the evening: at El Norte the music turned disco-flavored after midnight by request, and everyone in our little group except me fled in revulsion. (You guys know about my deep love of disco, right?) After closing my tab, I went out back out of curiosity and discovered a bunch of kids - twenty-somethings - smoking legally. I let them know of the oddity of being at an '80s night surrounded by people who were alive at no point during the 1980s. They told me they were there with their parents, which I find eminently credible.

SFDs: black steampunk-y skirt from Mishu, Fluevog Half-Truths, red stripey hose, long-sleeved black V-neck blouse with ribbon trim, mostly MAC makeup.

Last night: the little party at the Siberian Siren's. It was all perfectly lovely for me, but there was only one male guest surrounded by women, girly girls all. It's a wonder he didn't spontaneously grow boobs from all the estrogen in the air; I hope we didn't bore him. He did, however, bring some righteous coquito, which is Puerto Rico's version of eggnog. It was a potluck, in the grandest lesbian tradition, and the food was way tasty.

Tonight: scouring the east side in search of far eastern eats to share with m'boy. We followed the Wendling's suggestion, and scored big: Blue Ginger, my favorite Korean place, was open and fortunately not completely mobbed. After we snarfed the customary preserved veggie side dishes (banchan), they offered us more thrice; odd, but OK. I couldn't help but remember the lunches I used to have there with the late queenofthenight right around the start Full Time. The last time I saw her was over Korean eats, come to think of it.

On to Re-bar, which has no cover tonight and is guaranteed to be a sardine scene. ♥!

ETA: I finally tried out the electrically heated insoles today. They work splendidly! No more numb toes!

Four days no post. No, I'm not in a funk. I just haven't had anything worth posting, really. It's been a quiet few days consisting of:

• construction of accessories to finish my slack-ass Norwescon costume
• studying French
• plotting world domination
• hanging with m'boy

The Wendling had asked to go to the exhibit on Pompeii at the Science Center with me. A splendid idea, I thought, and I was proud of him for coming up with it. So we bopped on down (in the torrential rain) and walked across the Seattle center (in the torrential rain) and waited in line for maybe twenty minutes (in the torrential rain) until about noon when we found out that the soonest we could get in was 1515. M'boy had to start work in Kirkland at 1600.

Moral: Buy tickets to this exhibit online in advance. Who knew? Not I.

But! We had lunch at Shilla, which unhealthily obsessed readers may recognize as one of my favorite Korean restaurants around here. They brought us complementary edamame. Before I could inform my son that you don't eat the pods, he ate a pod. I guess he learned something today after all. Given the tastes of his maternal grandfather & step-granny, I was surprised he'd never had edamame before.

Another funny thing that happened at Shilla: two different members of the wait staff checked on us a total of four times. It wasn't especially dead in there for a Sunday afternoon. Yes, I'm wearing my black patent dog collar today, but aside from that I don't look too unusual by Seattle standards. I've been recognized before in that very establishment. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?

No Pi day parties for me, even ones where my son was welcome: He has a nasty cough, which I seem to have somehow avoided catching.

However! Girl time and tea with the Siberian Siren. She's always careful not to caffeinate me too much because she's seen me get alarmingly perky from PG Tips. Her dating advice: Tinder. Too bad my phone is Windows v7, on which there has never been an app for that for any value of "that".

The Siberian Siren made a run to a local Russian store and got some candy ("birds' milk") - different brands had considerable variation in quality, with Great Russians making the best, of course - and a big block of sunflower seed halva. I already knew about the latter from when a co-worker brought it to Microsoft. It's one of those foods I want to eat until I pop, and I nearly did. In the Lolspeak, NOM. The Siren approved of my Burn stories.

By the way, if you want the good birds' milk, you need to have an in with the shopkeeper, says the Siren. It's all very Soviet.

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Partly in penance for the above, I did a couple of laps around Green Lake this morning on my bike. I'm determined to preserve the condition I got into at Burning Man. Despite also cutting out the morning caffeine - I don't buy coffee on the playa - I got to work early. Grawr!

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My Metro mojo is off the charts lately: zero waiting for either a 49 or 48 on the way home last night (with only minor jaywalking) and no waiting this morning. I may have paid for it metaphysically, though.

Disturbing thing that happened on the way to work #1: A woman on the bus whom I don't recognize at all greets me by name. I hate telling people I don't remember them. I settled into an empty seat.

Disturbing thing that happened on the way to work #2: Across the street from my building, I overhear two men talking about ten yards behind me. "Is that a guy?"
"No."
Yes, it's gratifying that one of them agreed with me, but the other can go straight to hell. I'm trans, and a woman, and not deaf. No one gets to tell me otherwise.

For the first time in my life I cooked dinner for a date. It was at the Lake Place, natch. The menu: chicken in a white wine reduction, green salad because I am my father's daughter, and Korean-inspired spinach (i.e. with sesame oil & shoyu). K brought the bread, but we skipped the crèmes brûlées that I got from Uncle Pucky.

Dinner turned out well. There was relaxed chatting and some ahem on the sofa. Since it was a school night and she has two teenage sons, she left around 10, but still later than she'd planned. Speaking of plans, we talked about lots of those for the near future.

She's a lot hippier than I am, but I think she's endowed with enough sense that it isn't necessarily a bad thing. She's led a significantly harder life than I have, from childhood. I'm going to have to make an extra effort to relate to her.

I think I may be getting the hang of this dating thing.

Mental note: I need a different iPod playlist for that kind of thing. My housewarming party playlist is a little too dance-y. And what am I going to do with two small crèmes brûlées?

For many years I would hear of the annual Goth orphans' potluck, and a few days later I'd sigh as I listened my in-laws drone on over yet another dinner at the Abbey. Well, this year I made it to the Goths - Nibs decided to do her big feast on Friday - and it did not disappoint! Many peeps whom I hadn't seen in too long. Favorite edible? m_cobweb's cornbread stuffing. Southern food FTW.

Last night at the Abbey was perfectly tasty and blissfully free of in-laws. It was marred for me, though, by family friend H being prudish about Burning Man stories. This sort of thing never happens with chosen family.

This morning I went to Bartell's and munched down the list of things my surgeon said to buy before surgery. ( Gory details here. )

I'm unpacked, or as unpacked as I'm going to get - and 13 out of 15 crates isn't bad, really - without a bookcase and more skirt hangers. To quote foxipher, I have a black skirt problem. And despite not even being full time yet, I have too many shoes and bags.

Speaking of all those clothes, I'm going to want to run some outfits by one or more of you before I wear them to work. There will be your choice of eats, drinks, or sexual favors as an inducement.

I just barely fit enough in. The hardest part was the food. Whether out of maternal reflex or affection (She got me nice tea!), Nibs bought me quite a bit of grub; since it took me so long to move, I have more than one of some items. I only have a small, fragmented fraction of the total cabinet space for my grup, but at least it's all stowed.

Made phake pho with powdered bonito stock & tofu. Not bad, but I should have put the tofu in earlier & made a smaller batch. Rice noodles appear to start disintegrating shortly after cooking, so I was afraid to leave it in the fridge.

Ate dinner with one of my housemates, M2, who has something major in common with me: he too comes from everybody's favorite Koran-burning town in the South. We commiserated about the news. He went to the same high school as I did, only fourteen years later. (Three of the four of us have first names starting with M. Alphabetically, I am M1.) Thanks to another housemate, J, for supplying me with magic Wi-Fi pixie dust.

My New Years-and-maybe-company-holiday-party dress arrived today, and it fits beautifully except though the waist. Fortunately, one of the joys of being in my own place is that I can waist train. For the first time in over sixteen years, I'm wearing a corset to bed.