sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Spent Friday night at the Merc because I was at loose ends. Two drinks, left by midnight. Still zombiric the next day. Respect the absinthe.

Last night? The 20th anniversary night for Ramiro Gutierrez's Uniting Souls crew at the Monkey Loft. Dayumn. Three stages, 10 PM to 10 AM. It isn't often that I regret having to bug out of a club night before 0400, but it was all that. Highlight for me: Griffingrrl going hard in a sparkly dress. There were a couple of big (OK, big in the house scene) headliners.

Today: the first zappy in nearly two months still managed to hit all the needed areas in the allotted 90 minutes. That was a pleasant surprise.

Unsuccessfully attempted world domination while really, really tired. Ended up sleeping from 1700 to 2000 tonight. I can afford two nights out a week financially, but not really physically anymore. Oy.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
My mom's info bomb hasn't done any damage. My niece E hasn't, to my knowledge, looked for me online, and neither she nor my Evil Sister have said anything about it to my mom much less me. Sure, I'd like to hear from my niece (and of course my sister) again, but I'd prefer that it happen without rancor, natch. Maybe E knew already; maybe E wasn't curious; or maybe ES has lied to E again and dissuaded her from looking for me.

As for ES's decision to put E someplace other than my mom's for college, Mom is characteristically convinced that ES is punishing her for cutting off easy credit eight (!) years ago. That's not so obvious to me. The other two candidates are, based on Mom's description, households that could really use a young, able-bodied person like E around even more than my mom could. It seems plausible that ES's evil is reserved mainly for me.
Burgers with m'boy Friday night in celebration of his finishing the two-page to do list that Ex taped to the bathroom mirror. Adulting, he can do it.
I was all psyched for a hot date with Temptress last night, but I found out - after I'd done all twenty nails - that she'd come down with something. So I had a relatively short and temperate night at the Merc last night. We rescheduled for a week later, but I've realized that I have to let my facial hair grow for electrolysis that weekend. Arg!
Today: sleeping the chunky rain away, scouring the town for "art" materials.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Went dancing Saturday night because Jacob London, one of whose two members is trans, was at the Monkey Loft. I was determined to go as planned even though I'd been social all day, having lovely times with Funny Lady, [livejournal.com profile] ionan, and J. I have to say, I didn't feel Jacob London as much as I did Riz et al. over the 4th of July. It didn't sound like the old cheeky, glitchy Jacob London from the '00s, and what they brought wasn't as... distinctive. And I need to remember that my alcohol tolerance has fallen due to either age, weight loss, or both.

Zombitic all Sunday. Got zappy. No need to shave at all for the next few days, which is very yay.

Did not do any crafty stuff for )'( as planned. No panic yet, though.

Mental note: get in touch with the Islander and see if she wants to get together. I've already got a date with the Tickler on Saturday.

Insufficient sleep because John Scalzi is Gawd.

Started with new temporary team today. They seem to not be psycho, and to need me.
sistawendy: (mad woman)
Had a lovely time at chez [livejournal.com profile] morthael & [livejournal.com profile] icprncs. It's a pity I couldn't be there earlier; many peeps were leaving as I was arriving. But, the kiddo's work schedule is what it is.
I managed to ding 6, i.e. reach level 6, on Ingress this afternoon. I did it in a way that leaves me feeling kind of dirty: from my car, at the Google Kirkland campus. Hey, it's the east side. Everybody does everything in their cars. Despite making me feel dirty, though, it does give me hope that I can ding 8 by the Anomaly on the 27th. That means, as I understand it, that you can use pretty much any object in the game.
First electrolysis in five weeks today. Is it weird or ungrateful to the universe that I'm disappointed that Ms. Zappy fit everything but nipple zappy into two hours? I must remind myself that I need not shave my face for several days, and I'll be incapable of scratching my hand on my stubble for a couple of weeks.
I'm currently at a stitch & bitch at Wayward Coffeehouse, but I don't have a sewing project going right now, not even mending. Ergo, I'm doing some research, meeting people (poly of course because Seattle), and typing at you. And with that, I depart.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Elder Goth had to postpone our Saturday night date at the Merc because she got snarfed by visiting family. Bah humbug! So I went to the Merc anyway for a little HSF over absinthe. Chatted with an AMAB genderqueer, had an is-she-or-isn't-she moment. I asked online and she is, but she's also monogamously married. Excelsior? Sidewaysier.
Got zapped. Am spectacularly smooth for New Year's. Shaving this morning took five seconds.
Saw Star Wars with m'boy yesterday at Cinerama. Yes, they got the spirit of the thing right. Yes, there are (perhaps too many) good new characters. But I think it borrows too many things large and small from the earlier movies. Do I want to see it again right away? Meh.
Today: Spending the afternoon with the director of Lambert House to do the annual financial report. Luckily, I have a hard stop for that postponed date with Elder Goth. There shall be leather.

Tomorrow: divorce hearing. Expect either sweet relief and celebration or wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Thursday: Much-anticipated lunch with [livejournal.com profile] rigel_p, and three new year's parties. Good grief, when will I find time to do my nails?

The second Saturday in January: I have a much-delayed dinner date with Taller Woman, who if you'll recall has been fighting cancer and is awesome in a mature way. So of course that's the night when the Norwegian, for whom I confess to having the hots, invited me to her birthday party. Arg! Too many women, not enough time, cuddles, or ahem.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
M'boy was eighty (80) minutes late getting to me Friday night. That's not the first time he's done that, and I have informed him of the error of his ways. I was about to abandon him downtown after waiting 15 minutes, but he finally replied to a text just in time. Tell me again that teens are too phone-happy? Luckily, Red Mill makes everything better.

A few weeks back I got a ticket to Seattle's Ferris wheel on the waterfront as an attagirl at work. I couldn't use that ticket without my son, now could I? The weather didn't exactly cooperate, but I have no regrets. He complained that all the buildings got in the way of the view. Dude, those are the view, or at least part of it.

I'd bought more metered parking than we needed, so we came up with a second destination: Uwajimaya. I got to tell him how Chinese writing works, the history of kana, how many characters people typically learn in China & Japan, and that there's a vegetable called gobo root*. Mind expansion, plus daifuku**! That's my idea of a good time with my son.

Right after I dropped m'boy off at work last night, I had an intense hour-long conversation about relationships over the phone with Much Younger Woman. Another hole punched in my dyke stereotype card.

Slept until nearly time to call Mom, did so, and then dropped the kiddo off for an eight-hour shift. This time, sleeping in worked in my favor: it dried out enough that I could ride my bike around Green Lake.

I had a one-hour zappy session, which after two weeks was nearly enough to cover my whole face & neck. Die, hairs, die!




*Uncle Google tells me it's the same thing as burdock root.
**Sweet azuki bean cakes with rice flour shells. He didn't like his. Ah well.
sistawendy: (butterfly)

Today's zappy sesh was scheduled for three hours, but I only had enough hair on my face, neck, and chest for exactly two. Two hour sessions or shorter from now on.

In maybe six months I'm going to miss telling Ms. Zappy all my juicy gossip, but I really won't miss the hair.

sistawendy: (wtf laughing)
One more postscript to Saturday's lovely day at the beach with Much Younger Woman: I had my facial hair grown out for electrolysis on Sunday. Time was when I barely dared to leave the house with fuzz on my face, but now there's so little of it left - and what's there is nearly all grey and on my neck - that I felt OK going on a date. That's a big deal to me.

I'll be going to my son's graduation slightly less fuzzy than I was on Saturday: one day fewer of growth, three hours more of zappy in the meantime. I'll probably still be less visibly fuzzy than Aspiring Ex's mother.

Yes, getting electrolysis on the chest and (ow) nipples still sucks, but I'm hoping I have maybe one or two more three-hour sessions left in me. Then two hours, then one, then monthly, then...?
sistawendy: (butterfly)
Due to a miscommunication between Ms. Zappy and me, my electrolysis session was only two hours today instead of the three I expected. She still managed a complete pass over my face and neck, no work on the chest & nipples this time.

Holy crap. This time last year I was doing six-hour sessions, twice a month when Aspiring Ex didn't complain about the cost. Possibly the second or third session I ever had, way back in 2009 when we were hurting because the Great Recession had just started, lasted two hours. After the virgin areas and the marathons, two hours on well-zapped territory are a piece of cake.

I just had to squee. The end is truly in sight.
sistawendy: (mad woman)
Happiness is:
  1. When Mom calls at 2030 my time (2330 her time!) and I successfully walk her through getting Skype working so m'boy & I can have a video call this weekend with Mom, Good Sister, and Good Sister's younger daughter, whom I haven't seen in over five years. The secret, it turned out, was to get Mom to delete her contact info for me in the Skype client to keep it from trying to dial my phone every time. We hadn't used Skype since before the Microsoft acquisition, I don't think, so I shouldn't be surprised that something like this happened.
  2. This week I've twice gone two days without shaving my face and felt completely comfortable doing so. That hasn't happened since I was what, 17? And even then it was because I wasn't yet aware of the fuzz growing out of my face. Electrolysis works. Eventually.

unweekend

Dec. 15th, 2014 10:46 am
sistawendy: (stern nun)
I had my son for much of the weekend, with an unexpected son-free Friday night. I didn't seize upon it to go out because I was low on energy & cash. I wish I knew about kid-free nights with more lead time so I could make plans. I don't want to get on Aspiring Ex's case about it too much, because sometimes I need to swap nights, as with last weekends company party. I think I'm better about doing it in advance, though.

Also on Friday night, I got to listen to listen to Aspiring Ex whine about the cost of electrolysis (which, I admit, is creeping up on $20K over five years) and listening to her blather on about alternatives. One more time: if you want the hair gone forever, there aren't any alternatives. I know trans women who've said lasers are a waste of money. I've had one laser tech tell me they aren't permanent, and they don't work at all on grey hair like the vast majority of my remaining facial hair.

I was just reading the other day about a trans woman in the UK who got attacked on mass transit because she had her facial hair grown out. She was on her way to some kind of hair removal. This is the biggest reason why I need mine gone.
sistawendy: (drama)
Burning Smell #1: Yesterday I let the magic smoke out of my vacuum cleaner. Luckily, I was just finishing the vacuuming prior to my son's arrival. After I got it unplugged and outdoors so it wouldn't stink up the place, I noticed that the brush had an awful lot of my hair wrapped around it. I'm guessing that that isn't a coincidence. I removed about a fistful. I'll see if anyone will attempt to repair it tomorrow.

Burning Smell #2: This morning my son had turned my push-button electric range on high instead of off after he finished cooking his scrambled eggs. The smell wasn't the residual eggs as we first thought; it was the plastic spatula that he'd left in the pan. About twenty minutes of gentle scratching with my fingernail separated the former spatula from the Teflon on the skillet. The skillet looks OK now, but I've had people tell me since then that it's unusable. It's still in much better shape than the Teflon pan that Nibs gave me. Hmm.
I'm really hairless on my face, neck, and chest right now. I'm scheduled for four-hour appointments for the rest of the year, but I'm hoping I can go down to three next year. That'll make both Aspiring Ex and me happy.
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
Yesterday I lived up to my username and took my son to the Pop Departures exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum. Yeah, they had to have the usual suspects like Lichtenstein & Warhol, but it was a mind-expanding experience for me as well as m'boy. Go see it if you're local.

He seems to be making more of an effort to keep it together and function executively, especially since that last IEP meeting, but he's still not quite there yet. His pockets are a breeding ground for entropy, but at least he empties them now before putting his clothes in the basket.

I may have found part of the answer to why he stays up so late and needs to be dynamited out of bed: he catnaps. I caught him doing it early yesterday evening. Sure enough, when I got him out of bed at 0900 this morning, he said he got to sleep around 0130. I'm sure his mother will be thrilled to learn that she needs to police that in addition to everything else he does. I've got nothing against weird sleep habits per se, but if they're getting in the way of his school, they have to go.

Oh: he blew off Friday night with me to go to a high school football game with the neighbor boys and do a school assignment with friends the next day. Some (quasi-)divorced parents might have objected, but since he's hardly done anything social on his own initiative much less had any friends his whole life, Aspiring Ex & I agreed that this was a most welcome development and we should let it be. I could have shaken my booty on my unexpected free night, but I wasn't feeling it - too tired.
First zappy in four weeks today, due to poor Ms. Zappy's pinched nerve. She says she's going to get some professional ergonomics advice, which I believe she sorely needs, pun so not intended. Even with the long break and my being late due to walking around the lake with the Wendling this morning, she still nearly cleared my face & neck. Maybe I won't be able to fill a four-hour session by the end of the year.
In general I try not to get captured by TV shows, but I just spent this evening watching the first two episodes of Magnificent Century (Muhteşem Yüzyıl), a Turkish soap opera based on the life of Suleiman the Magnificent in the 16th century. Come for the costumes; stay for the cute leading lady who bears an uncanny (to me) resemblance to Drew Barrymore.
sistawendy: (Burning Man wings)
From the Dept. of Dust:
  • Beaverton's crowd funding campaign succeeded in the nick of time. We shall have a new (to us) dome.
  • It looks as if I'll be driving alone again. Maybe I could have avoided that by working my transpo connections a bit earlier, maybe not. Given that I have a perfectly capable if not exactly capacious Prius, a vehicle permit, AAA, and hotel reservations for the round trip, it may be for the best.
  • I finally, after three Burns, found the listing of theme camps and their locations. I shall hit my faves from previous years, oh yes, and I shall find new ones.

The Siberian Siren's situation has become much less stressful. Thank goodness.
sistawendy: (weirded out)
Remember how I was worried that I wouldn't have enough hair to fill up a five-hour zappy appointment because I'd scheduled two weekends in a row? Well, I didn't, not even including the first-ever-and-therefore-slowest pass over my chest and nipples.

Bad: Since I was done in four hours but had booked five, I felt honor-bound to pay for the hour since she couldn't exactly fill the slot with zero notice.

Good: I. Have. No. Hair. On. My. Face. Neck. Chest. Or. Nipples! None. Not one.

And yes, getting electrolysis around one's areolae does suck, but not as much as on the genitals, to say nothing of the upper lip. Despite completing dozens of passes across my upper lip, Ms. Zappy still makes my eyes water when she's working there, every time.

I have a five-hour appointment scheduled in two weeks, so we'll see just how fast I can grow it back. Ms. Zappy generously offered not to charge me for it if I fit in four hours again. In September, after a four-week hiatus for Burning Man, I have two four-hour appointments scheduled. We'll see how that works.

So, four per each of two visits in September, three in October, two in November? Wouldn't that be lovely? I don't want to do one-hour visits because her office is in Federal Way, which is a forty-five minute drive each way from the old place.

What will I do with all that time? Circumflatulate, of course.
sistawendy: (weirded out)
Because of Natasha's wedding I ended up scheduling electrolysis appointments on two consecutive weekends. In the past it would have been no big deal, but I've had so much hair permanently removed that I'm now worried that I won't have enough hair on my face, neck, chest, and nipples combined to fill up my scheduled five-hour appointment this coming Sunday.

This is a good problem to have.

I shaved my neck yesterday morning, but it looks as if that'll have to be it for the week. I haven't gone that long without shaving my face since I was a teenager. (It's sunny in Seattle, though, so lots of leg shaving will still happen.)
sistawendy: (dolly)
But first: took the Sanctimobile in for an oil change, etc., and the dealer said my water pump was leaking. Better to find out now than on the way to Black Rock, so I've had it expensively replaced. I also got a car wash out of the deal, so I didn't have to drive a certain special someone around in a dirty car...
...And that someone is, of course, Temptress. While we waited for Q to open, we walked around the Capitol Hill Block Party and on an impulse went to Momiji; neither of us had been there before. Yeah, it's a little pricey, chi-chi, and new-Capitol-Hill, but they have a killer sake selection and the staff seems all right. We didn't notice the restaurant down a hallway from the bar until we got up to go. Temptress wants to go back for sushi sometime.

The main event for the evening was the Opulent Temple fundraiser at Q. It was my idea, because OT is my favorite place to dance on the playa, hands down. It doesn't hurt that Q looks and sounds like the Hollywood ideal of a nightclub.

It was a white party, with lots of sweet young things running around in revealing or skin-tight white outfits. (Temptress and I were in black and floral print, respectively. I don't own anything that would have been appropriate.) Temptress & I were all about the eye candy - especially the gay boy in the white fuzzy chaps - but she wasn't feeling the music nearly as much as I was. She eventually asked to go someplace with music that she wanted to dance to, namely the Merc. Since I'd known ahead of time that she just isn't the raver chick that I am, I agreed, natch. No offense to the Merc, but I wish we'd returned to my place earlier and with more energy. Not that we were completely wiped out. Ahem.
I had my last ever six-hour electrolysis session today. From now on, they're shorter. Hoo to the ray.

Once upon a time I wouldn't have been comfortable going out on a date with a fuzzy face, but these days I am - just barely. Temptress herself is a big part of that.
This evening in Kirkland, m'boy and I walked Bigpuppy over to where several municipally-contracted goats were wiping out a blackberry patch. The dog was surprisingly calm about it all, but the bugs nearly drove my son into the anxiety spin cycle.
sistawendy: (to die for)
When I shave my face now - I can visually get away with skipping a day now, even on my neck - I feel compelled to feel where I've shaved to make sure I got the hairs. They're so few and so fine anymore that I can no longer feel or hear them get cut as I shave. This is so very happy-making.

I have my last six hour electrolysis session scheduled for later this month. After that, I'm going to five hours, and so on down from there. I can't wait to get my Sundays back, and spend my money on my son's college tuition instead of my face.
sistawendy: (drama)
Since this weekend was a kid weekend, complete with Red Mill and Cosmos, I could only go to the Seattle Erotic Art Festival while he was at work on Saturday afternoon. Getting from Kirkland to the Seattle Center & back was hellacious due to the 520 bridge closure and construction on Queen Anne Ave., but our heroine prevailed.

My attachment to my favorite pieces wasn't as strong this year as in previous years, but I did have a couple:

David Steinberg - Dammit, I didn't write down the title and I only remember it as X and Y where X and Y are a man's and a woman's names. It's black & white photo where a nude man is doing something to a nude woman's navel - you can't see what because his hand's in the way - and she's laughing with her mouth wide open. It's a wonderfully immediate portrait, and it could only happen in a photograph.

Héctor Pineda - The Exorcism of the Heart [rest of crazy long title omitted]. This is a digital montage of a woman suspended from a burning branch in the twilight, meter-long flexible thingies protruding from between her breasts, what looks like a fire kettle in the distance, heavenly bodies, and geometrical diagrams against the stars. It reminded me of Mexican religious art, if Mexican religious art were made by a kinkster with a computer. This was the one I came back to the most.

Honorable mention: Bronwyn Dexter is a friend of Foxy, former mayor of Camp Beaverton. After pestering the docents a couple of times I found her work, and it did have a nice visual pun: a print of a woman masturbating with enough fingers to send me to the hospital (no vaginal muscles here), printed on a sewing pattern piece for a sleeve. Nyuk nyuk nyuk!
This weekend I've been wearing my hankerchief-hemmed dress, which [livejournal.com profile] sheistheweather helped me find at a thrift store years ago, with some new sandals. They're part sandal, part boot, all black and all me. I've gotten quite a reaction from them. While I was waiting to walk across Aurora, some dude in a pickup threw me the horns. I'd... never received the horns before. Then as I was walking into zappy, conversing with Ms. Zappy, two guys in a red, pimped-out SUV take a detour through the near-empty parking lot to talk at me. I didn't catch much of what they were saying - speed, distance, distraction - but apparently they seemed to think I owed them some attention. They didn't get it from me, mainly because I was already occupied. I don't know where they came from, and I didn't bother to watch which way they went. I was mighty glad when Ms. Zappy escorted my to the Sanctimobile after we were done.

Especially in light of recent events, this attention from men was... not enjoyable. I'm 46, I don't exactly have a figure to die for, and I'm not about to put myself in the middle of a het meat market. But a short skirt (or at least a skirt that looks short on a tall woman like me) and tall sandals worn in public are guaranteed get you the job of gratifying men's egos. I don't want that job, and I won't accept it.

I didn't mind when the queerish-looking woman in the Green Lake PCC complimented me on my outfit because - wait for it - she didn't radiate a creepy sense of entitlement. In fact, my first thought was, 'Oh no! My skirt's caught in my underwear again!' My son had already saved me from that once this weekend.
Speaking of zappy, I have been declared as clear as I can be for now. I can still see a handful of hairs, but they're not long for this world. On to my chest! Wait. That doesn't quite sound right.
sistawendy: (amused eighteenthcent)
Scene: Saturday morning. The Wendling is driving us to Kirkland, and we've just crossed the 520 bridge. The road wiggles because of major construction: approaches for the new bridge. M'boy doesn't quite follow the wiggles.

Wendling: Was I drifting again?
Nun: Yes!

Here's what I've noticed about him: he can pay attention to his direction for several seconds at a stretch, or he can pay attention to his speed for several seconds at a stretch. But when you're driving, you have to switch off faster than that.
The calendar app that ships with Windows Phone 7 doesn't handle daylight saving time properly. It made me late for my appointment with [livejournal.com profile] razorbits, which is why, sadly, I didn't get awesome foils done.

How do I know I didn't just fat-finger it? Because my phone also lied about yesterday's zappy appointment, which is nearly always at the same time on the same day of the week. Both appointments were entered right before the Great Leap Forward but occurred afterwards.

Once again, I got a product from Microsoft that's worth what I paid for it: $0.00.
Speaking of zappy, I continue to be pleased with progress. The only area I have left on my face or neck that isn't predominantly perma-cleared is the center of my throat. Ms. Zappy contends that I only have another couple of months left of six-hour sessions; after that I won't have enough hair on me to go longer than four hours at a stretch.

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