sistawendy: (hopeful nun)
Eats with m'boy the last couple of nights. It's a little mysterious to me why pho tastes so good, but I know why my chicken in white wine reduction doesn't suck: years of practice, good ingredients.

Making progress on my birthday party plans. Banquet permit obtained, as is my booze shopping list. I've been trying to get in touch with a caterer I know for a recommendation. He doesn't do that kind of gig anymore, but he knows who does.

And now for something completely different: superstition. Remember my split toenails that have been healing slowly and painfully? Well, that's gone on for more than a year and a half. I suspect that the US political situation won't get better until I no longer get stabbing pains in my toes, which I predict will be right around the time of the solar eclipse. The right one is comfy in the boots I just bought, and soon the left will be too.

If this entry is too dull, I promise you there are weekend shenanigans planned.
sistawendy: (mad woman)
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 [livejournal.com profile] 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.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
I just got the photo on the left of [livejournal.com profile] seelenschwester by [livejournal.com profile] leenerella last night, and it's hanging on my living room wall. (I had to move [livejournal.com profile] ravenmimura's spoof of the famous "We Can Do It!" poster to my bedroom next to the bed, which, as I hope you'll agree, is the perfect place for it.) What really makes the Queen of Broken Hearts for me are the details, and the backstory. Now that I look at it, I love the one on the upper right even more, but I didn't move fast enough to get it. Let that be a lesson to you potential art buyers.
I'm marinating the last batch of tofu to dry as I type: just 3.5 hours for tasty vegan protein. And I'm finding it gloriously convenient that [livejournal.com profile] leenerella, [livejournal.com profile] morthael & [livejournal.com profile] icprncs, my ex, and my son's workplace are, compared to a trip from Phinney, close together in the south end. I'm slowly but surely building a mental map of the place.
sistawendy: (Burning Man wings)
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, [livejournal.com profile] cupcake_goth.
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.

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.

fig facts

Jul. 26th, 2016 01:40 pm
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
Quartered figs take around thirteen hours at 58 C (135°F) to dry sufficiently, but Oh Em Gee are they tasty! And since I left the skins on them, there should be plenty of fiber in them, which will be good to have on the playa. What started as about a gallon of fresh, intact figs is now a about a quart of dried fig quarters.

Better yet, since Ex has taken off on a cruise to Alaska with her mother (Madness!) she wants me to take back most of what I thought was her half of the figs I picked. I told m'boy, who's dog-sitting for Ex, thad I'd check up on him tonight anyway. Perfect!

I may be able to give people on the playa dried figs instead of breath-destroying dried fish. Or should I give them a choice? Hmm! "Dried figs or dried fish?" I like that!
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
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.
sistawendy: (Burning Man wings)
Remember my experiment on Sunday with dried marinated tofu? I'm happy to report that it keeps at room temperature for at least three days without going sour or mushy as fresh tofu would. I must say "at least", though, because it was so yummy that I ate the last of what I made last night.

Deets? The marinade was soy sauce with a few (too many) drops of sesame oil, and I marinated the tofu for an hour while my kale chips dried. I dried the tofu for two and a half hours at 135°F (58 C). The only reason I didn't do it longer was that I had to leave for Kirkland and I didn't want to leave it unsupervised for two or three more hours. It probably would have benefitted from at least another half hour. The linear dimensions of the tofu shrank by half, meaning that (firm!) fresh tofu is at least 80% water. My dehydrator could, in theory, handle four pounds fresh at a time, as surely it shall.

Between dried tofu, hard boiled eggs, and Clif bars, my protein needs for Burning Man should be taken care of. I wonder if strangers would like that better than dried fish. Dried fish are less delicate, but they're not good for your breath.
sistawendy: (stern nun)
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 [livejournal.com profile] 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.
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.
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 [livejournal.com profile] 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.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
I had dinner last night with four cow-orkers from two jobs ago. Yeah, it was my idea, and it took us forever to settle on a place & time, but settle we did - on a pho joint just five minutes from my old place. It took me ninety (90) minutes to get there, late, at 1830.

We hadn't gotten together since before my Grand Snip, so just over four years. Things I learned:
  1. Two of said cow-orkers have since become cow-orkers of [livejournal.com profile] gfish. I inevitably told Burning Man stories, and they knew about the his flaming pendula sculpture. No, that's not dirty.
  2. Speaking of dirty, I think I've forgotten how not to make straight east siders uncomfortable with talk of squirty orgasms in public places. I almost hate to break it to them that by the standards of my circles, my freakiness level is average at best.
  3. One of them messed up my pronouns twice. I wasn't sure I heard it the first time, so I didn't correct her. Grumpy face goes here.
  4. Some of us are doing better than others w.r.t. money, jobs, and kids. I didn't expect to feel so lucky in comparison, but I do. Shoot, even if we were all rolling in dough, I'd still be more psyched about life than the rest of them.
  5. I could tell that none of us really wanted it to end as soon as it did. That was bittersweet.
  6. Taro bubble tea is bomb.

Ingress level: 6.47. I've plugged into the local Enlightened fora, and there are going to be all kinds of fun events for the 27th, but I have m'boy and zappy that weekend. Arg!
sistawendy: (dolly)
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 [livejournal.com profile] 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!
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
Last night my cow-orkers and I hit Mediterranean Exploration Company and got the $40-per-person chef's choice for our party of what, 15? Astounding food & service. It's the kind of place that Aspiring Ex would give her left ovary to eat at. I lost count of the courses - eight? ten? - but absolutely all of them were right on in terms of presentation, originality, and just plain nom. I noted that the bathroom signs and several other decorations were in Hebrew, so yeah, Israel is on the Mediterranean. And yeah, the hostess was young, cute, and Jewish-looking. Shaddup.

After I high-scored Asteroids at Ground Kontrol, my wrists started to complain, so unlike the me of thirty-five years ago, I had the sense to leave. I hit Powell's because you gotta, and called it a night at a reasonable hour so I wouldn't, you know, get anyone killed while driving us home.

But wait! This morning, we hit Tasty & Alder for a family-style brunch. Amazing. It's not-quite-traditional fare, so if you're not a militant meatie you can find something you'll like without any trouble.

I skipped Blue Star Donuts right before we left. I figured I needed them like I need an extra hole in my head.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
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".
sistawendy: (amused eighteenthcent)
Spent a quiet Christmas Eve & morning with my son nomming the ham he requested. There was a sunny walk around Green Lake, and no complaints from m'boy until I wore him out after two miles.

My present to myself? Ableton, the cheap SKU, on sale. I may be inflicting bleeps & beats on people before too long. It's kind of addictive, and it seems to be quite capable & well-designed.

Christmas Dinner at chez [livejournal.com profile] ionan. I have partaken of honest-to-goodness Christmas goose. I have to say I had my trepidations because I'm not crazy about duck. If you imagine a cross between duck & ostrich, that's what goose is like. It's rich, red meat: delicious, but not to be eaten in large quantities.

The highlight for me, though, was the pie that [livejournal.com profile] ionan's wife J made from ingredients she brought back from their recent trip to Brazil. That was intense, passion-fruity goodness right there, made with unsweetened passion fruit concentrate and condensed milk that J swears is different from what you find in North America. Indeed, people brought so many desserts (including me, thanks to a neighbor at the old place) that I'm kind of maxed out on dessert until I dunno, maybe summer?

I'm currently at work taking care of a few easy loose ends, nothing serious. It's a ghost town here even though we're officially open.

No Temptress tonight; she's still sick. Maybe I'll go out tonight or maybe I won't, but tomorrow night is definitely a queer girls' night out at Kremwerk - after, of course, an earlier gathering at the house of a certain couple who recently returned the area. Oh to the yeah.

Next week: Sunday night through Wednesday morning I'll be at the old place in Kirkland. I plan on walking Bigpuppy enough, preventing my son from wrecking the house, and making sweet love to Ableton.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
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.
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!
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.
sistawendy: (drama)
Saturday night was almost normal, for a refreshing change of pace. I saw the first half of a [livejournal.com profile] vixyish and [livejournal.com profile] tfabris show at Wayward Coffeehouse, went to the Merc and talked to former co-workers, and then headed for ETG where the Siberian Siren's girlfriend L was DJing. (I missed L's set. I feel bad about that.)

The SS & I bopped over to Pony, a hugely gay gay bar, for a couple of hours because (?) no less a figure than Seattle institution Riz Rollins was DJing. He's one of the DJs on KEXP's Expansions show, which I've been listening to for years. He's also a friend of the SS's & L's, so I got to chat with him a bit. He's a wonderful man, and he was half of one of the first gay couples legally married in the great state of Washington.

A first: I tried frybread from the "Off the Rez" food truck that was parked in front of Pony. I'll forever associate frybread with the grimness of Sherman Alexie's stories, whose characters like him are Native American. Frybread with jam on it is, though, pretty tasty.

I didn't do much dancing or even drinking; it was mainly sitting & chatting from 2100 to 0230. I needed that after the past week.
sistawendy: (smartass hester)
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?
sistawendy: (prabob)
For m'boy & myself last night I cooked chicken in a white wine reduction, sautéed chanterelles, salad, and I got some nice bread & fig jam* to go with the leftover goat cheese. It turned out beautifully, and my son loved it. I... I... actually cooked something non-trivial and it came out OK! Will wonders never cease?


Proposed nickname for PCC: Uncle Pucky.
sistawendy: (dolly)
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? [livejournal.com profile] 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. )
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
  1. Gorgeous weather.
  2. Gorgeous goth ladies in their warm-weather finery. You know who you are.
  3. [livejournal.com profile] bittergourd's godlike powers with meat.
  4. Getting Pervo Homo Leftist Propaganda up & running.


I skipped makeup twice this weekend. I didn't wear it to the BBQ, and forgot to put it on for Re-bar. (Yeah, I was working on #4 and got distracted.) I... I got out-femmed by other lesbians. I hang my head.

I'm in!

Sep. 10th, 2010 12:25 am
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
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 [livejournal.com profile] 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.

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