sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
This is another one of those entries that got delayed because I was doing too much.

Party #1: My employer's annual marketing conference always ends with a big party. And marketers are notorious, at least among engineers, for how much alcohol they put away. Such social. Very booze. Wow. I spent much of the evening with a devastatingly attractive & stylish straight woman with cute queer hair from NYC; she was that cool.

Strippers, etc.: I'd kind of felt guilty about not going to any of the Tickler's burlesque shows, so without really being invited I met her at the Debauchery night at Neighbours. It was to be the last one after six years of monthly nights of queer, non-profit "stripping", as the MC and producer put it. She was verklempt pretty often. The Tickler had performed at that night and knew everyone, but she was in the audience with me that night.

Maybe my attitude toward it was colored by running on four hours' sleep from the previous night, but as expected, it didn't knock my socks off. There were a couple of performers that I really liked - one of them reminded me of Opium, serial "winner" of Bang for the Buck - but the rest I could have happily missed. And yes, super queer, super gender-fucky, and body positive. The good news for fans is that a new night, Queers Queers Queers, will start up next month with a different producer.

After the show, the Tickler & I hit Molly Moon's for ice cream for her approximate birthday. Then she drove me home, for which I sincerely promised to give her endless head. On the way home around 2330, I got a text from Ex saying that my ex-stepmother K had broken her foot and was in a hospital in Redmond. Since I was the only one with a car, could I please take her home?

Le sigh. So I drove out, still in my red satin party dress and killer 'Vogs, and got K around 0100. She was dizzy & nauseated from the drugs they gave her, and narrowly missed my car with her barf. If you'll recall, she's a bit of a hoarder, which meant I couldn't find the walker she insisted was in her garage full of junk, just crutches. I must have taken half an hour to get her the forty feet from my car to her house. I made it home just after 0200. Ex, Exbrother (who had to fly up from CA again), and Mr. Right Now (who's married to somebody other than Ex and therefore eligible for serious karma) took over from there. K's own kids are out of state, but I think they're getting in on the action, too.

I took yesterday off because zombie, except for the monthly queer lunch at work for which I'm the organizatrix. Then party #2 at Diminutive's* charmingly 1950s house way up in the north end. I was pleasantly surprised by the number of pretty, Goth AF, and maybe kinda sorta queer women - I'm never really sure about Diminutive & her friends - many of whom remembered me better than I remembered them. Do they remember me because I'm trans or do I fail to remember them because Diminutive & friends can be relied upon for quantity & quality of alcohol?

Enough wacky hijinks for a while, I think.

*Diminutive's name is the diminutive form of mine. Also, she's tiny and I'm not. I love that.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
The night before last my son stood me up for dinner. He has an excuse for not calling or texting me: he lost his phone over the weekend, if you'll recall. I also knew he'd been doing something important earlier that day, namely helping my ex get her hoarder stepmother's condo ready to vacate.

Ex had earlier asked me to help out with that chore, too, and I grouchily agreed, in the name of good relations with Ex. Besides, this wouldn't be happening if her dad were still alive, and he was a decent guy who certainly would have wanted me to help out. However, Exstepmother is getting evicted and apparently there isn't much time to get her moved. That means emptying out her place on weekdays, which conveniently makes it hard to get my help. I haven't offered more help, and Ex hasn't asked for it.

That's for the best on many levels: it isn't right that other people should have to pay a price for her long-standing shopping addiction (which is one reason her money situation is so bad), hoarding, and generally weak grasp of reality (another reason). And she's such a motormouth that I've seen her own kids call her on it. I've been holding my tongue in front of her for decades because of Ex and her father, and I'd really rather not have to do that again now that there's less incentive.

Ex is, unfortunately, the geographically nearest relative by several hundred miles. I know she's not exactly a fan of her stepmother, either and, if you'll recall, she's got rheumatoid arthritis. I'm hoping she gets though this with a minimum of pain and botheration.
Trying a new queer women's dating app called Her. Action seems to be prompt. I'll keep you posted, natch.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
From the Dept. of Delayed Divorce, Ex and I finally got around to splitting up the cell phone bill. All three of us used to be on one bill, which Ex (!) was paying. Now, more reasonably, the kiddo & I go on one and she's off on her own. I forgot that we were paying for two tablets that we don't use. Oy. They get cancelled tomorrow.

And on a related note, if you remember almost exactly a year ago, I agreed to have m'boy at my place on weekdays and send him to Ex on the weekends. That hasn't been optimal for quite a while - since July, says the Wendling - because he now works much closer to Ex's place than mine. And once he restarts school, getting there is also easier from her place than mine. So, starting next month, my son will be with my ex on days when he's working, which are usually but not always weekdays, and with me the rest of the time. I've warned him that he may hear lesbian sex if he's here on the weekends, and gotten the predictable cringe from him. Just kidding: I would subject neither him nor a date to that if I could help it. But hey, if they were copacetic, you're reading the words of someone who's had sex in a room full of third parties. A lot of third parties.

I'm not sure whether I'd rather have him here on weekends or weeknights. On the one hand, if he's here less, that's less stressful on me, and he isn't commuting his life away. On the other hand, Ex isn't that good at launching m'boy when he needs to be launched. Given the lack of social action (apart from m'boy) in my apartment lately, that aspect is probably a wash. I note that Brown Eyes doesn't seem to mind driving anywhere anytime, and sleepovers at my lake place are impractical for the Tickler.
While we three were driving around today, m'boy found a months-old voice mail from Exdad wishing him happy birthday. Exdad, if you'll recall, has been dead for about six weeks. Poor Ex started crying as she drove. She'd mentioned earlier that losing him had been hard, messing with her daily life. I couldn't help reminding her that she used to tell me to, in essence, just get over my own father's death because it was so long ago.

"That sounds like something my mother would say," she said. Yup, it sure is. That's usually not a good sign, and Ex knows it. She points out that she's no longer the person I was married to, for better and for worse, and my criticism of her past self is a trifle unfair. Yeah, I guess it is, but I can now say that I'm not mad at her for it anymore. She acquired some empathy for me in about the worst way she could have.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
I was one of many people who quite literally put a couple of shovelfuls of dirt onto Exdad's plain Ashkenazi-issue* wooden coffin late this morning. Ex & her brother speechified beautifully, despite being verklempt. M'boy, who I'm proud of delivering on time and put together way the hell up in Snohomish County, acquitted himself well as an emergency substitute pallbearer; his suit now needs dry cleaning. My toes went numb from being out there in the 7C & rain for an hour and a half.

Afterward was, well, afters at the Safeco Field Diamond Club, which Exdad - a lifelong ardent baseball fan - was in charge of for several years. Yes, there were peanuts, popcorn, and hot dogs, but no alcohol because Jews and not Irishmen. That was probably for the best.

It was kind of nice catching up with Ex's cousins, even if it took me a good few seconds to recognize a couple of them because they'd grown beards since I last saw them. Ex's is the kind of family where everybody shows up: Exmom, who divorced Exdad in the late '70s, was there. Exmom's sister, with whom Exmom hasn't been getting along lately, flew up from L.A. - with her son. A family reunion for my family wouldn't even require a typical restaurant's wait staff to move any tables. In Ex's family, it's a major test of long-term memory for everyone because of all those names, and we all help each other out as much as we can.

I was relieved that Ex didn't want me around at dinnertime - and my son wanted to carpool home after a couple of hours - because I had made a dinner date with Temptress shortly before Exdad's passing.

Readers with superhuman memories may recall that Temptress, my first queer girlfriend, dumped me in '15, then divorced her husband, and then a few months after that we had dinner at her place. At the time, I was, well, not feeling it, as the kids say. She was struggling on several fronts and doing lots of pagan stuff. So I quietly noped out, but I didn't feel too good about myself for doing so.

This evening was different. I had a lovely time, and I think she did too, even if she did have to go home fairly early for work tomorrow. Dating somebody for the first time in a while whom you dated for a long time before that makes it easier for me to open up. Yeah, she's happier with solo poly than I am, but she knows where I'm coming from. I got to tell her a lot of the stories that you've been reading on this here journal. There may have been snogs goodnight. Ahem. We shall Merc together at some point. Oh yes, we shall.

Fun fact: Temptress is a hair taller than I am. Sitting at a table with her is good for my posture. I hope sitting with me doesn't give her a backache.

*Sephardic tradition is just a shroud for burial, no box allowed. I'm not sure how that fits with laws in the US, though.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
And what, you may ask, is Objective Charlie Bravo? I went down to Macy's on the bus* and picked up a few 38C bras, all of which fit me better than the 38B that I walked in with and that I'm still wearing.

Years ago - I think it was at least two years ago, anyway - no less an authority on boobs than [personal profile] staxxy prophesied that I would eventually make it to a C cup. If she gave me a time frame, I don't remember it; she's probably too smart to do that anyway. I must admit to a certain impatience with the pace of my breast growth, and maybe even some doubt as to where it would end up, but it isn't that common for trans women to get as big as I have without resorting to knife work.

OK, I don't want to go up any more cup sizes. B for believable, C for convenient. Having said that, it'll probably happen.
What did I do for MLK day? I didn't march, but I borrowed another of the volumes of March that I got for m'boy, who has to his credit read all of them. Time for me to catch up. It's a bite out of a perspective sandwich: I'd forgotten, if I ever knew, how much physical harm folks in the civil rights movement endured. Even more respect to Rep. John Lewis for keeping his faith in humanity.

*The E and the 40. The E was so delayed coming back that I walked the thirty blocks in almost exactly the time it would have taken on the bus. Bad Metro! Bad!


Dec. 31st, 2016 11:03 am
sistawendy: (blue corset)
My son got a letter from his community college yesterday. He tried to hide it from me. He's done so poorly that they're restricting him to one class per term until he talks to an advisor. His ADD still owns him, basically. I'm hoping that maybe now he'll get serious about coping strategies. He hasn't registered for the first quarter of next year, which is just as well. I haven't been able to talk to Ex about it and can't until next week because a) she just had an infusion of arthritis drugs and b) read on.

Ex has put her father in palliative care because the fluid isn't clearing out of his lungs. She says if I'm going to say goodbye, I better do it soon before the pain meds addle him. That's the plan for this afternoon.

Two thousand suxteen. Ptui! I have... plans for tonight, but I'm going to need a nap.
sistawendy: (amused eighteenthcent)
Mental note #1: Check whether your rental car has a USB port that you can plug your phone into when you pick it up. Doing so would have saved me from conniptions in north Florida's hostile radio desert going to Mom's, not just when I left.

Flew home without incident. The post-Christmas crowd seemed somehow less scary than the pre-Christmas crowd, even in deepest darkest Dixie. Or maybe I'd had my attitude adjusted by walking on the warm, sunny beach and in the quiet woods.

You know what I'd forgotten about Mom's neighborhood? The smells - vegetation - and the bird calls, most noticeable around sunrise & sunset. Just thinking about them makes me smile.

Mental note #2: Make sure I have enough books on my phone for the whole cross-country trip. I was watching other people's movies sans sound for the last hour or two.

I've put on five pounds. Mom's cornbread is fantastic, as I've said. She made three skillets of it while I was there, even though she got tired of it. That's love.

Nagged kiddo this morning. I should probably nag him some more over the phone right now. He needs to at least temporarily stop being a punk, because even though Exdad has been doing better, he's a long way from out of the woods. Let's put it this way: Exbro flew to Seattle about the same time I did.
sistawendy: (mad woman)
Yesterday: I can barely remember. Grocery shopping for Mom. I introduced her to snobby beer. Dinner at fave local pizza joint, Leonardo's. Hung out a bit with [ profile] cardinalximinez & [ profile] fizzgig_bites. Tried to hit University Club alone, but despite being fabulously dressed, it was closed.

Today: Attempted to visit the nearby giant sinkhole that is the Devil's Millhopper, but it's closed on Tuesdays (!). So I went to a park that was our childhood favorite, got some Zen walking in the woods on the new trail across the street, laughed at how the outdoor pool I learned to swim in was "closed for the season" even though it was 76°F (24C). Went to UF's natural history museum with Mom and grooved on the funky Florida fossils. Giant ground sloths, anyone?

Tonight: Drinks with Mom & her friend M, packing. I'm ready to go home.
The end for my Ex's father may come within the next 24 hours. Ex was in tears when I talked to her yesterday, and has been posting about making the decision to stop heroic measures. If she needs me to help out with logistics or our son, I'll be there.
Lessons learned from this trip:
  • Don't come here over Christmas if I can help it. College towns are dead over academic breaks. Yeah, I know: what did I expect?
  • Make sure a non-maternal person will be here in the house when I am.
I'm not sure I've ever been down here over Christmas with just my mom, so I didn't know how meshuggah it was going to make me. Now I do.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
First the bad stuff: My Ex's father is in an ICU, but doing better. Ex isn't sleeping, so when my son blew off walking the dog yesterday* while she was at the hospital she kind of went kablooey at me via email. She's ready to sell him for meat. She says she doesn't want to live with him even though she has a bedroom for him and I don't, saying he should move in with some unspecified "peers". (He has no friends.) One thing I didn't know is that he still needs to turn in work for two of his classes last quarter, but he points out that having his wisdom teeth out messed with his ability to get that done. She says that he now needs to retake five classes, and she's determined that he's going to pay for it. And oh by the way, fascists officially took over the country yesterday.

Now the good stuff: The great state of New York has accepted the stack of documents that I sent them and has put the correct name and gender on my birth certificate; they were even nice enough to send me an unofficial copy. The fascist goons mentioned above will need a court order to obtain proof that it was amended. Goddess bless the Empire State.

I am leaving for Florida in twenty-six hours. It can't happen soon enough. Highs in the 70s and 80s, baybee. I stopped by Funny Lady's on the way to Lambert House last night and got contact info for her chum there in case I need moral support.

*He was asleep. Since he isn't in school, he's doing the teen thing with his sleep schedule as I used to do. At Ex's request I've started confiscating his electronic devices during sleepy time. As an added bonus, I know they're charged when I do that.
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 [ 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: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Last night: Dinner, more or less, at chez Much Younger Woman. She said she missed me, and I definitely missed her. Aw! We & a friend of hers smoked what I'm pretty sure was a C. sativa strain - just one bong hit for me, thanks - judging by how much talking happened afterward, drank a surprising volume of box wine, and watched the first three eps of "Stranger Things". I get why the buzz is huge and people are hooked: it isn't just plot candy, it's plot Nutella. Taking the bus home involved not one but two 15-minute waits. Yeah, I could have Uber'd, but I'm trying to conserve cash at the moment. Ah, student life. I'm not sure I really miss it.

Today: Grocery shopping with Ex, followed by a hospital visit with m'boy to Exdad, who turned out to be sleeping. Neither of us wanted to wake him; we'd both heard him complain earlier about not getting enough sleep. This conveniently gave me enough time to go to a clothing swap at a group house full of queer poly women & AFABs who I know. I walked out with a weight in clothes that's equal to what I walked in with, but I think the ones I walked out with stand a much better chance of getting worn. I think the Goth Cabal would approve of a lot of what I got. And if they don't, remember, there is no Goth Cabal.

I think I'm staying in tonight: too low on sleep.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
Yesterday didn't start well: I'd gotten to bed at a reasonable hour in anticipation of visiting Ex's dad in the hospital, but I woke up at 0415 and couldn't get back to sleep. So I drank some extra tea, did my usual morning thing*, got lunch with m'boy and then took him 25 miles up I-90 to the hospital in Snoqualmie.

Exdad wasn't having the best of days. He could only talk in short, often incomplete sentences, and he wouldn't take his eyes off the college football on TV. (Ex says he doesn't even like to watch football. He's a baseball fan, and has even had a baseball job. Ex's stepmother later told us to turn off the TV if we want to get Exdad's attention. Uh, what?) At one point I asked him if he knew who I was. He replied, "Of course!" A few minutes later he used my dead name, and I gently reminded him of the current one. As I told the Wendling when he asked about it, that didn't surprise or bother me in the slightest. Exdad tried to climb out of bed (probably to pee, says Ex), but he didn't even have the presence of mind to use the side without the rail, so we got the nurses to stop him, calm him down, and readjust his position a little. Poor guy. I'm guessing he'll be in there at least another week.

Where was Ex, you ask? She'd just had an infusion of something for her arthritis on Friday, and those always knock her out of commission for a few days. The text message with instructions that she sent to me ran on for hundreds of words. As usual I ended up ignoring most of it. Ex gets off on ordering people around as does her mother. Someday I'll get around to pointing that out to her, but it's not really my problem any longer.
Got home, turned around twice, and took buses & a train to Lambert House, where I was supposed to crunch numbers. Knowing the director as I do, I texted him an hour in advance. No response. Got to the house. It was locked, and his car was nowhere to be seen. More texts. No response. A slice of quiche and an ill-advised mocha later**, more texts, buses, and trains. I'm on the bus home - after getting soaked - when the director said he was on his way because volunteer training just ended. I remember his mentioning that when we made the appointment so maaaybe I got the time wrong, but Christ on a pogo stick. We've rescheduled for tomorrow.
Tried to nap in anticipation of part of the Chance of Rain festival. See "ill-advised mocha" above. My eyelids were stuck in the up position until 2300, after which I slept for ten hours. Silver lining: Chance of Rain is doing a day rave on the roof of the Monkey Loft this afternoon. I think I've earned it, thank you very much.

*Breakfast & workout.
**Bakery Nouveau. Damn, they're good.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
The highlight of the last few days: Dinner last night with [ profile] bork. He seems to be doing well with lots of things, and he really had it coming.

The lowlight: Yelling at my son this morning for not getting out of bed after being informed of the need to do so three times. He was on the verge of tears, which I haven't seen from him in years. Le sigh. What he's been doing (until, I hope, tomorrow) is setting an alarm on his phone earlier than he really needs to, i.e. for the same time as I do, and ignoring it, or worse yet letting his phone battery drain. Doing what makes sense so seldom even occurs to him. He needs to learn basic adulting, starting a few years ago.

A light, reasonably bright: Ex's dad is supposed to be released from the hospital to a rehab place out in 425-land today. Ex says he's doing better, and that m'boy & I will have to find some time to visit him. Gladly. I'm all about ביקור חולים, yo.

Another light, also bright: Back to the old team at work. Happy about that. I'm lightly touching Elixir. Ew, I'm a hipster!
sistawendy: (Burning Man wings)
Everything is coming together for the Burn in that magic, synchronistic way that usually happens on playa. Well, it's coming together in my apartment. I'm still a bit behind schedule in stuffing it into bins and loading it into the Sanctimobile. But I only have, oh, 120 more items left to pack? I'm not planning on panicking, though, until after dinner tonight. M'boy & I have to go out because - you guessed it - the dining table and the floor underneath it are covered with bins & gear.

Speaking of the Wendling, he is right now at the home of his maternal grandfather, Exdad. Exdad has had a couple of transient ischemic attacks, and he's got some bleeding in his brain for which he has surgery scheduled next month. Ex sent our son over there to make sure he's OK. M'boy says he's moving & talking a little more slowly than usual, but I gather the difference isn't drastic. I wish Exdad all the luck. He was always one of my kinder in-laws, and I can tell that Ex is worried sick about him. (I haven't heard from Exbro in a while, but it's safe to assume that he's worried too, and unlike Ex, he's too far away to help.)

This is Hot Pink, signing off until after Labor Day.
sistawendy: (flirty hippy)
I met the woman from Tinder that I may have mention earlier. At the last minute she informed me that she's recently started growing her hair out from chemotherapy (!) and asked if that was going to be a problem. Well, of course not. (From the Dept. of Small World: Her chemotherapy buddy was CSPC founder Allena Gabosch.) She's a bit taller than I am, as advertised, blonde and femme.

We met at the Pride picnic in Volunteer Park - yes, I know Pride is in two weeks, but the picnic is an earlier, less crowded event - and she had this adorable couple of girlfriends with her. She knows one of my co-workers. She's a few inches taller than I am, as advertised, femme, and probably not a psycho killer. We've exchanged digits. Excelsior!

Oh: I also poked my head in at the Goth picnic that was going on right next door. I think that may have been part of the parallel universe of Goths that I glimpsed at the Baltic Room a while back. I'm not completely sure, but I think I saw someone who is Really Not Welcome in my circles.

ETA: Also at the Pride Picnic I ran into J&J, the lesbian couple who adopted me at my first night-before-Pride, coincidentally enough also at the Baltic Room. Always a pleasure. I wish I saw more of them, but they live up in Mill Creek.

Thence through the University of Washington's graduation traffic to the party that Aspiring Ex threw for my son. I got to see neighbors, old family friends, the usual local in-laws, AXBro, and a cousin of AX's whom I hadn't seen since the bad old days. AX, uncharacteristically, did not feed everyone 'til they popped. I'm OK with that in general, but is she losing her Jewish motherhood?

I left without saying goodbye to AXMom while she was busy talking to her daughter. Yeah, tacky, but I just didn't feel like risking the awk. I wasn't picking up as much hostility from her as I expected, though, throughout the weekend.
Despite wearing something cute tonight I'm staying in because of this stupid cold. My throat is sore, I've only just come down off of the last Sudafed I took, and my eyes are skritchy. What kills me is that Much Younger Woman invited me over for Cards Against Humanity, which I love, but my body is telling me that's a really bad idea.
sistawendy: (weirded out)
The Wendling has graduated high school. And to think there was a time, when he was first diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, when his mother & I were worried that it might not happen. Mind you, he's still a long way from independence, which might explain why it hasn't been too emotional an occasion for me.

Aspiring Ex has not wasted time in laying down the post-high school law about how our son is to behave if he is to be a "good roommate". I asked about enforcement provisions. She says she has some in mind. I must say I'm curious about the details.

I have a cold that I probably caught from m'boy my son earlier this week. (Or maybe I caught it from a Queef? Ahem.) Aspiring Ex gave me some much-needed sudafed, which when mixed with alcohol at the celebratory dinner may have made me more entertaining than I really wanted to be.

SistaWendy [to Mr. Right Now]: Don't talk to me about piercings. I have two more words for you: dexterity test.
Natasha*: How about those Seahawks?

I may no longer be fit for the company of straight east siders. Except for Natasha, I'm OK with that.

Speaking of straight people with whom I have not much in common, AXMom was perfectly civil to me even if she didn't say much. I may not have to call upon the LJ brain trust for emergency corpse disposal after all. I must say, Mr. Right Now was awfully handsy with AX right across the table from her. I really should find out if AX ever told her mom they're poly.

Tomorrow: AX throws a party at the old place in the afternoon. I told her she's not allowed to have any last minute decorating emergencies again.

*The code name for my son's first and longest-serving sitter.
sistawendy: (weirded out)
The word from my Aspiring Ex is that one of her cousins has just come out to her parents as a trans girl. This particular cousin is 19 and has been Aspie-flavored since she was a young child, complete with the usual deficits in social skills and therefore friends. She has always been, in AX's words, a weird kid.

AX expressed concern, repeatedly, about the quality & quantity of therapy this cousin might get in college out of state. She didn't use the phrase "just a phase", but she came asymptotically close to it. I called her on her bullpucky. Good grief, the cousin's taking girl 'roids. People who are just in phases* don't do that, at least not for long. And just getting her hands on hormones means she's convinced at least one professional that she's for real.

Fun fact: the cousin's college covers SRS in their student health plan. (!) AX says there are 60 colleges that do.

Apparently the cousin doesn't want to talk to me about trans things because I'm too old. I can't say I blame her too much. I may be talking to her parents soon, though. I certainly hope they're more sensible than AX.

*Being trans or, especially, genderqueer has in recent years been a flavor of the month among younger queers. Other Lambert House grown-ups have observed a few teens who said they were genderqueer, and then decided they weren't after they got pregnant, etc. So yeah, phases happen, but they're vanishingly rare among orthodox binary trans people who seek hormones or surgery.
sistawendy: (Prius)
I took the day off and spent it with m'boy today as a swap with Aspiring Ex for my date with Temptress on Saturday. The Wendling expressed a desire to go to the Nordic Heritage Museum, in Ballard, where we'd tried to go several weeks ago only to arrive right at closing time.

Given that m'boy & I are about as Nordic as tofu, some explanation is in order. The house where AX lived in when I met her, and the neighboring one we lived in when we were first married and when our son was born, are about two blocks from the museum. We kept meaning to go but never got around to it. Before long we were living in Kirkland, so Ballard wasn't exactly convenient. Going there the first time was my idea; the second time was my son's.

I reminded m'boy that the experience of the bulk of Nordic immigrants would have had a lot in common with the latest and largest wave of Jewish immigration, which brought his great-great-grandparents at about the same time. Where the Jews and the Scandinavians part ways, though, is that the latter did their best to pick up where they left off, living, working, and worshiping just as they did in the old countries. I've heard many stories, some from AX's family, of the Jews' determination to do and be something new.

The building that houses the museum used to be a school. It was fun to imagine kids climbing the stairs between the three floors - kids with Nordic names, who might still live in the surrounding neighborhood.

Two words: Lego Valhalla.

Sure, we learned some things at the museum, but I couldn't help noticing how... low-budget and not quite professional it seemed to be. The signs were in several different fonts, and what was written on them had copy errors or was worded clumsily. There was a lone man playing the accordion on the top floor. I think we were the only visitors in the place when we showed up. We lost track of time and left almost half an hour after closing, but nobody bothered to tell us to go. I'd hate to see that museum die, but I wouldn't bet on its being around in another twenty years.

As we were leaving, we participated in a metaphor: to our right, the museum; in the car, the two of us; to our left, an African-looking girl in a headscarf, maybe ten years old, riding a bicycle into a driveway across the street from the museum. Past, present, future.
sistawendy: (smartass hester)
But first: a pleasantly small Goth reunion at P's birthday celebration. P & I used to work for the same tech giant, so we'd occasionally have lunch together. As a fellow queer, she fed me a steady stream of educational & titillating book & movie suggestions. She didn't disappoint yesterday: she lent me a collection of kinky lesbian erotica called Say Please. Not only is it likely to be a fun read; I was touched that she loaned me a book that still had her bookmarks in it. I'm going to have to write down their positions.
The main event yesterday, though, was the wedding of Natasha. That's the code name for m'boy's first, best, and longest-serving babysitter. Aspiring Ex & I partway adopted her; she was a precociously organized and responsible teenager who'd lived her whole life in 425-land, and desperately in need of quasi-hipster godparents like us.

The wedding itself? Um, well, OK. Tasteful and a bit... generic. I have my suspicions about whether her new hubby is good enough for her, but as her hipster godparent I would, wouldn't I?

Horrible thing: Natasha is an adoptee. Her siblings are biokids. Neither they nor their parents showed up to the wedding. I don't care how things stood between them. None of them could pause the tackiness long enough to go to a wedding? Good grief! And I didn't know about it until the officiant, the groom's uncle, asked me about it. I knew things were bad between Natasha & her folks, but not this bad.

A dish served cold: AX's mother flew up from San Francisco to come to the wedding. That's fine in itself, but:
  1. Her presence meant the Wendling didn't stay with me this weekend as usual, and I'd forgotten about it so I made a date with Temptress for next weekend involving not inconsiderable time and money.
  2. AXMom & I loathe each other, and there was no way either of us could avoid physical proximity.
I made sure to look extra purty in my Pride dress from last year. AXMom & I sat as far apart as we could at the reception table. Words exchanged? Zero. Eye contact? Measurable in milliseconds.

AX, her mother, another family friend, and m'boy left relatively early because the venue, the Hollywood Schoolhouse in Woodinville, is awfully loud. To tell you the truth, I only stayed half an hour later. It was full of young straight people, and the only person there who I really knew was Natasha, so I just wasn't feeling it.

Oh by the way, AXDad completely spaced it. We were all afraid he might be dead in a ditch or something, but several phone calls from AX & me established that he wasn't.
sistawendy: (blue corset)
The Coming of Mom is delayed by a whopping forty-four (44) hours. My mom gets to enjoy beautiful Atlanta for two nights because, ultimately, a plane skidded off the runway in Salt Lake City. Then Delta had four gate agents to rebook 350 passengers, thereby enabling Mom to miss a flight to Philly that would have gotten her to me today.

It gets better: Mom left her medications in her checked luggage. She's not supposed to skip a day of some of them.

So now I'm alone in a my squeaky-clean apartment. Le sigh.
And in other old person news, I went over to my Aspiring Ex's dad's last night to get Windows 8.1 on his recently repaired 'pooter. I plugged everything in, but I couldn't connect over his DSL, which he says is provided by - wait for it - AOL. I had to get m'boy home to bed, so I gave him a brain dump of what I did and left it to him. We'll see.

I have to say, though, that even after two TIAs he's more mobile and coherent than his wife. If no one had told me about them I wouldn't have guessed they'd happened.


sistawendy: (Default)

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