Busy...

Recently,  I was away from home on what might be called a "boys' weekend out."  Though there were actually some women attending with their husbands.   One of our friends from out of town had his 50th birthday, and as a celebration for his friends, he arranged a special get-together at a local railroad, something I was looking forward to attending.  And my wife, who was enjoying finally being back home after her long visit with her sister, was the one who generously suggested that I go alone.

The celebration involved a lot of being outside in the sun and the heat...mid to upper 80's and low 90's.  As Marian can attest, such temperatures are enough to cause lots of problems.   For me, the major one as a boy, was/is perspiration, which can tend to make my long hair get stringy and ultimately, unmanageable in hot weather.

Enter the ponytail, and the use of a number of bobby pins to hold loose short fringes of my hair down comfortably.  (This is the same technology used by my wife at our son's wedding a while back.)  Reluctantly, I styled it that same way, and put on my masculine persona - denim (women's) jeans and polo shirt, with loafer flats or when needed, ankle boots, great for walking on ballast without twisting an ankle.  Admittedly that outfit was not the ultimate in hot weather comfort - a skirt and tank top would have been much better.  But jeans were appropriate for the festivities.

Not surprisingly - the difference in my appearance was substantial.

Everything I wore was "women's clothing."  I was carrying a purse, and wearing long nails and a higher ponytail than typical for a man.  Yet, not once was I addressed as "Ma'am."  Everywhere I went all weekend while so coiffed (and with absolutely no makeup), everyone who didn't know me  identified and addressed me as "Sir."

Once my hair gets damp while in a ponytail (about an hour in the heat is all it takes) I'm stuck with it that way till it's washed...   So, being in "boy mode" in the morning heat, meant staying that way all day. (Ugh.)

It was a surreal experience, and I almost felt as though I was being "mis-gendered" -  being addressed as female has been so frequent.  Even the name on my credit card was of no assistance for this weekend...   But around these men (and their wives, some of whom have known both my wife and I for years),  being Mandy just wasn't an option.  Thus, I had to deal with it.

And yes, I had a good time, in spite of being stuck in boy mode...including some sightseeing en-route to/from the venue (which on the way home after checking out of the hotel, made girl-mode possible once again - though with shorts instead of a skirt.)

I made a sightseeing stop at Paw Paw, WV - the location where the B&O's double-tracked, original water-level line along the Potomac was removed years ago.  The right-of-way was fully cleared of any hints as to railroad history (it was "scorched earth"- not even foundations were visible), and is now used as public access to reach remote riverside campsites and isolated properties on the line.

A friend and I had driven the entire low line in a 4WD many years ago, and my wife and I had visited Paw Paw previously, but we didn't venture down the right-of-way.   This time, I did, but not very far.  In the short distance I traveled, (probably not much more than a half mile to the first turnout), given the size of "car-eating" water-filled craters along the way, it was obvious that the road needed some grading.  While 4WD wasn't really required, a heavier suspension would have been good.  I stopped for the obligatory picture, and turned the car around...

It's hard to imagine that the B&O's blue-and-gray passenger trains used to run through these sylvan glades....

More to come...

Mandy

If "things" could talk...the Sixties again?

Anyone remember these? 

I do...from the 1960's and '70's...love-ins, teach-in's, protest songs, beach music, with many folks experiencing  summers of fun living at the Pacific Ocean in these vehicles.  No, I didn't own one, and never rode (or lived) in one.  But they were everywhere in the Bay Area, where I lived at the time.  (And contrary to popular belief, that's not where my long hair started...)

Some of these had their back window removed, to make it easier for surfer boys and girls to stow their boards.  This one is on the Delmarva in Maryland, and still has its back window.  But no license plates, so I wonder where it came from?  Who drove it?  Where has it been all these years?  What sights has it seen?

Might even be fun to drive one of these as as an antique...lol!

Speaking of antique cars...today I stopped in at the auto parts store to get some wax and motor oil for mine.  When I arrived (dressed in my women's white tank top, tan 3" inseam shorts,  freshly epilated legs with new sandals, and my purse - plus pink toenails and shiny long fingernails), a fiftysomething guy pulled up in a really pretty Dodge Dart GT, 1969 I think (sorry, not so much into Mopars).

My comment to him: "Really pretty Mopar you have there."  He mumbled something back at me from about 20 feet away, but I'm not at all sure what it was that he said.  For all I know, it could have been "What the h*** do women know about antique cars anyway?"  OK, so no conversation were going to be forthcoming with this guy...  He let me go through the door first, then walked into the store behind me, stood at the door for a minute, looked in his wallet for something.  And then he left...as abruptly as he entered.  His car was obviously the most personable part of THAT family...

I found the wax I needed, but had to summon help to find a quart of conventional organic Pennzoil  for my antique.  The back story on that: seven or eight years ago, a quick-lube place (yes, you'd probably recognize the name) slipped synthetic in my antique unbenownst to me (grabbed the wrong hose when filling it, but later denied it and hadn't charged me extra for it).   Shortly thereafter, a spaghetti strainer would have held almost as much oil as my engine.  I was advised that a lawsuit would most likely had unsatisfactory results, particularly with no paperwork to prove they actually did anything wrong.  Their probable defense would have been - "it's a leaky 40-year-old clunker, and they're trying to pin their problems on us.")  Stop-leak, regular oil changes, and several "engine washings" finally eliminated the leaks, and their visible evidence.  And it's been dry ever since.  But never again will I risk getting synthetic oil into that 130K mile un-rebuilt engine...I even carry my own spare oil in case it's needed on a long tour...not every convenience store gas station stocks old fashioned oil. (Been there, seen that issue.)

In my opinion, with an antique car, the key is:  "know thy repair shop well" and only have them do oil changes.    Using quick-lube places is not worth it.  They often have novices working there, which increases the risk of "accidentally" ending up with the wrong oil, and subsequent leaks.  BTW, my new cars began their life on blended synthetic, and they're perfectly happy using it.   No leaks, no issues.  Thus, my opinion ONLY applies to un-rebuilt, high-mileage antique engines.

Segue back to the present: the clerk at the parts store omitted gender-specific forms of address for me.  Well, at least until he saw my name on the credit card.  Then it was "Is there anything else I can do for you, Ma'am?" "Thank you for shopping at XXX, Ma'am."  And, "Come see us again, Ma'am."

Thanks Mom and Dad!!!  Their "foresight" undoubtedly made this possible.  Though somehow, I can't believe they ever envisioned that their transgender child would be recognized as a woman in her daily life...using that name.  I'm sure that's not quite what they intended!   But I'm certainly not complaining...

Quickie - "Go right ahead there, mom!"

A quickie today, sorry - there's no picture.  And before you ask, I'm NOT writing about something that occurred with my mother during our morning visit.

Today, I was "lil ol' androgynous me" and wearing women's white shorts, short sleeve navy blue polo top, with my white sandals, and no makeup or jewelry (other than my necklace.)  On my way back from the nursing home I stopped at the locksmith's to pick up a new garage door lockset.  There the clerk omitted any gender-specific forms of address, and I noticed a faded old article under the glass countertop about one of the employees wearing pink nail polish for a charity event.  Hmmm.  Hadn't noticed that before.   But I don't think anyone there is trans...

From the locksmith, it was off to the post office.  As I walked up the ramp, a 40something man ahead of me held the door open for a family (two kids and their mother) as they walked out...and then looked directly at me and said "You  too, dear...  Go right ahead there, mom!"   Wow...another first.  It could be entirely accidental, but it could also be the first time I've ever heard someone "miss-identify" me as a pregnant woman.  That's quite remarkable, but unintended.

Not that I mind, of course...and I shouldn't have any trouble finding a seat on public transportation!  But I guess I'd better figure out some answers to typical questions about my "pregnancy",  so I can answer questions from other women "believably" and without stuttering or sputtering.  Let's see - I'm maybe 4 months along, baby due in January...hoping for a little girl...and so on....

Or better yet, lose weight...which is much easier said than done!  I've been trying - unsuccessfully.

Later...

Mandy

It's been quiet here...well, .except for the bikers.

Since picking up my wife at the station, it's been rather quiet around here.

Since my wife got back from her sister's,  I've been dressed in typical androgynous outfits, living my daily life, and there have been the normal amount of "miss-identifications" along with instances of the "S" word.  A few notable exceptions, though...

Warranty parts for one of our cars arrived at the dealership, eliciting a phone call to my home.  In her first two calls about it, the female clerk addressed me as "Ms" and "Ma'am," apparently in response to my "now female" first name.  When we got to the dealership with the car, my regular service writer was there.  He knows my gender, and regularly uses the "S" word.  He helped me, but I noticed a female clerk went by his desk several times while my wife and I were there.  Turns out, it was the female clerk I talked with - he had to ask her something and mentioned her name.  Coincidentally, when Kelly called to check on how they did for the service call, she used the "S" word.  So I must have been the subject of at least some discussion!

Last week I dropped in at my nail salon for another appointment rather late in the day, wearing shorts, a polo top and sandals. (Been there, done that.  Guess I'm just a glutton for punishment???)   Since the place was rocking,  my tech's husband was there - second time in a month.  (Business MUST be improving...)   I was expecting the worst from him...but instead of hearing the dreaded "S" word, he used my first name in front of the other customers.  Wow....a shock!   I didn't have to say anything to get this result.  His wife must have wised him up!  And I didn't notice any of the customers checking me out...that was a good thing!

I have two pairs of sandals like these, one in the tan, and one in white.  Both are rapidly disintegrating due to being 5 years old, and plastic, not leather.  I figured it was time to buy another pair of white sandals - which are nice and feminine for the summertime.  But I expected comments.

I found the following on line, and I ordered them, hoping that I could rescue them from the mail before my wife got the box.  Things didn't work that way - she got to it first.  When asked, I told her what I bought...including that they were white, thus she "won't like them"  "But I do...they're keepers."   Particularly with the dark-color insole, which won't show dirt at all...

When I initially wore them around the house, there were no comments.  Not the first day, or the second.   And I wore them out alone a couple of times.  Still no comments. - very surprising.  I wondered how soon issues would begin...and when we decided to take one of our walks through the neighborhood, I found out.   "You're not wearing those sandals."  "Why not?"  "They're women's, and you look like a girl anyway in that women's tank top and shorts."  We went back and forth a bit...but ultimately, it wasn't worth continuing the debate.   I changed into a pair of obviously-women's flats, but which she tolerates.   Some crusades make sense to pursue, others don't. 

I'll be wearing my new sandals as often as possible, so she can get used to seeing them on me.   At some point in the future,  we'll determine whether toleration has increased with familiarity.  If it does, I'll probably buy a pair in black, for cooler weather.  White ones will look very nice with shorts, pedal pushers or a skirt over the summer.   In black, they'll be perfect for spring and fall, with jeans, jeggings, skirts or dresses.  And it'll be nice to have more shoes suitable for wearing without nylons.

Our son had occasion to be in Delaware on business, and we took the chance of being able to meet him for dinner.  It was to be a casual event.  I wore shorts, a polo top, and my pair of strappy sandals (unfortunately, not my new ones), with my purse and necklace.  As it was late in the day, my beard shadow was beginning to show...no makeup today.  There was no pretense of being, or attempt to be, feminine.  Today I was just "lil-ol-me."

The three of us went into a very nice-looking family-style restaurant, away from Dover itself, and in a rural environment.  Most of the other patrons were of the "elderly" category...my wife and I fit right in, using age as the yardstick.  Waitstaff omitted gender-specifc pronouns for both our son (call him A) and me (though I'm the girlie one - he's "not so much.") I didn't notice any customers staring as we ate dinner.  The overall atmosphere was surprisingly and pleasantly neutral and relaxed.

On our way to the exit after dinner, A (with his long hair and beard) walked past a heavily-tattooed and bearded fat man wedged into a booth.  His totally-disheveled clothing and rough appearance would have been more appropriate in a sleazy biker bar, than at a "vanilla" family-style restaurant crowded with mostly-on-the-north-side-of-60 elderly customers.  The guy was gawking at both of us, since I was following A.   As I neared the guy's booth,  I slowed down a bit, to let A get ahead of me, then distracted the guy's attention by smiling at him and in my best femme (soft) voice and southern accent, saying "Hi sir, now y'all have yourself a good day."  Then I glided on, enjoying the positively dumbfounded look on his face, and as I glanced back, the precious "duh, what was that, boss?" expression on his table-mate's mug (another heavily-tattooed, bearded and disheveled fat guy wedged into the other side of the booth, who also resembled the biker stereotype.)  

Why did I even bother to waste my breath talking "at" those guys?  In retrospect, I can't answer that.  The only reason I can think of is that, like Flip Wilson's female persona Geraldine (from the 1970's) would always say - "The devil made me do that!!!"   Would I repeat the performance again in the same, or any other, circumstance?  Extremely unlikely.  But at that moment, everything came together, and it just seemed SO perfect...

The three of us forged on toward the door...and neither my wife nor A said a word about the incident.  They were apparently a bit too far ahead of me, and/or in conversation, to hear or notice.   Finally outside (after some "Keystone Kops" congestion comedy from 6 inbound elderly customers who couldn't manage to get out of each other's way at the entrance), we noticed that parked among the dime-a-dozen Chevys, Fords, Nissans and Toyotas, there were... you guessed it...2 humungus Hogs (Harley-Davidson motorcycles).

Good food apparently attracts every type of customer.  Including hungry bikers...

That's all for now!

Mandy

Fun's over - now back to "normal."

When I picked up my wife at the station after she returned from her trip, it was late enough that, had we chosen to head home, we would have encountered stop-and-go freeway rush-hour traffic.  Lots of it.  So we stopped for dinner at a nearby beanery, to escape being involved in the "parking lots" that all main roads had become.

I was wearing my women's pastel blue tank top and white shorts (with a 3 inch inseam), with my white single-band slingback sandals, necklace (no other jewelry), and carrying my purse.  I'd recently washed my hair and needed several bobby pins in it to keep it out of my eyes while driving, and was wearing only light makeup over a fresh shave.   As I had guessed, we were addressed as 'ladies" the entire time we were at the restaurant.  Any suspicions my waitress may have had regarding my truly being female were dismissed at check-out, when the clerk saw my "now-female" given name on my credit card.  (Really gotta thank my folks for that bit of assistance they unknowingly gave me "way back in the day...")

We managed to linger over dinner for an hour and a half, long enough for most of the rush hour traffic to dissipate.  Thus, the Bay Bridge, and the rest of the drive home,  were both relatively incident-free.  And it sure was good to hear human voices in our house...that's recently been sadly lacking.

My wife seemed to enjoy the flowers which were waiting for her.
 
Life should get back to normal now...whatever that is.

I'll leave you with this picture, of a picturesque restored one-room schoolhouse, on a rural two-lane road in Talbot County.  The light was nearly perfect, but there was no place to park (automobiles were scarce back in those days!)  So, with camera at the ready, and my car's 4-way flashers warning the non-existent oncoming traffic, I paused in front of it for a few seconds to get a grab shot.

 My plan obviously worked!  Enjoy...

Mandy

More earrings, & more time in skirts...

Here is a picture of my repaired earrings "in use."  I absolutely love the elegance of this pair.  They look like they ought to be worn with an evening gown (maybe someday!)   Even though they're costume jewelry, Mom had good taste to select and wear them.  The way they feel as they swing with my movements is almost intoxicating.  (I wonder if she enjoyed wearing them as much as I do?)  Speaking for myself, I wish I could wear them all the time.

I put them on at about 7:30 AM.  They're still a bit of a challenge to secure...guess I still don't have the right hand movements figured out.  But they stayed in place until about 12:30, when one of them fell off in the car.  So I guess I need to have them tightened up a bit more.   They were still very comfortable, though. (Perhaps TOO comfortable!)   I'll have to try again...and tighten them a little more.

Now for a shout out to Pat: many thanks for the recommendation about this type of attachment.  If you hadn't mentioned it, I might never have discovered how nice they are.  I will be down looking through Mom's jewelry for another usable pair, sometime over the weekend...

 The finished product, with missing stones replaced, as worn on 7.30.15

Added on Saturday, 8.1:  I sifted through Mom's clip-on earring inventory, and have now found 3 additional pairs, which are wearable AND in good shape.  Two are silver-tone, one is gold-tone.  One has the screw-on clip, the other two are spring-loaded.   I've been wanting to wear large hoop earrings but could never find a style I like.  Thanks to Mom, that's not a problem any more, except for the fact that I now need to find a necklace and bracelet to go along with the gold-tone 1-3/4" hoops.  Retail therapy is always good...

Here are a couple of pictures...

What do you think, Pat?  Will these work style-wise?

Stopping at the NASA visitor center on Wallops Island, VA has been on my bucket list for some time now.  It's the site of a growing number of launches - and on clear nights the fire from the rockets can be seen from my house as they ascend, even though over 90 miles away.  My wife has no interest in this stuff, so it proved to be a good time to make the run, without boring her to tears.  

I won't describe my outfit, since you can see it below.  But even with full makeup, lipstick and jewelry I was quite comfortable on a hot day.  

The visitor center was my first stop. That was interesting, but nowhere near as elaborate as what I've heard is at the Kennedy Space Center.  My feminine attire was appropriate.   Many women - and some girls - were in skirts. (Or sundresses...maybe someday I'll get brave enough to try one of those!)  It was a fabulous place to be seen by a number of visitors, many of whom were kids.   Continuing the pattern of the last few days, I didn't notice visitors of any age staring at me...including the kids.  I really enjoyed being accepted as "just another woman out sightseeing."  And truly enjoyed spending more time in skirts.

It was a tough environment to get any selfies...much too crowded, and I didn't have access to my tripod anyway.  So I didn't worry about it, and moved on to the next stop, which was a turnout on the causeway to Chincoteague Island.   The only problem here was the wind, which kept blowing my hair into my face...but I'm used to that!

 

 Wetlands beside the causeway to Chincoteague Island,

On my way into the beach on the island, the lady at the ticket window addressed me properly, as did one of the rangers directing people at the beach parking area.   I stayed up on the poor-excuse-for-a-dune where there weren't many people, and I didn't hang around for more than 15 minutes. But with pre-teens and teens arriving by the car/truck loads, and walking right past this overdressed (for the beach) older woman with a camera on a tripod, you'd think at least some would have stared.  Big sunglasses over my contact lenses let me keep an eye on the kids, and they weren't at all concerned about my gender (or presence).  No one gave me so much as a casual glance.

Go figure...

Mandy, standing on the poor-excuse-for-a dune, more than a little overdressed for a visit to the beach (Tom's Cove on Chincoteague.)

My drive home was anti-climactic, and I was able to get the car into the garage without seeing anyone.  It was another fabulous day...    But, does anyone know what the yellow flag with the black dot means?  Just curious...
 

Mandy

Travelin' on...

It was a weekend, and a very nice one at that.  (Sorry about the delay in posting.)

With that in mind, I wasn't planning to get involved with bridge traffic either day, and had arranged enough time to make a sightseeing trip (following quiet rural roads) to some "new" areas for me.   And, dressed in my tan tiered skirt, sandals and pink floral blouse, I was going en-femme.

As you can see below...there was very little traffic on those rural roads...

First stop was a little town named Betterton.  There was nothing in particular calling me to that destination.  But the name itself was intriguing.  It's a small town at the mouth of the Sassafras River on the upper Chesapeake Bay.  And with a population of 345 in the 2010 census (per Wikipedia), it really is just a dot on the map.   Turns out there are a number of Victorian buildings built in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as hotels to cater to the passengers of the steamboat trade.   They have a very nice small beach, which was crowded because of some local event.  And with no place to park, I didn't get to rub elbows with the residents...

After checking out the town, I headed for my second destination, coming across a historical marker for the Battle of Caulk's Field, dated August 31 of 1814, part of the War of 1812.  After the burning of Washington, the British sent troops north in the bay to keep our militia from moving south.  But an American militia numbering about 150 engaged the 200-300 British troops, handing them a decisive defeat, with many British killed and very few Americans injured, none killed.   This monument, in front of what is now a corn field, honors the soldiers of "both sides..."

From there, it was on to Rock Hall.  The town was established in 1707, allegedly named for a mansion made of white sandstone, and incorporated in 1908.   Rock Hall served as a shipping point for tobacco, seafood and other agricultural products, as well as a passenger transport connection for travelers during the Colonial era.   It continues to be a working harbor, with an active fleet of commercial watermen who leave the dock each day, and a population of 1,310 as of 2010.

Interesting little town, where I was able to park, walk around a bit, window shop, and grab lunch at one of the local eateries - a sit-down restaurant, not fast food.  Don't look for a Mickey D's or Burger King here...I didn't find any!  My only interactions with others were in Rock Hall, and all were good.  While walking about, there were no occasions for speaking with the locals, but I didn't notice any unusual double takes or comments, including as I walked by several groups of three or four adults who were standing in front of establishments and chatting.   In the restaurant, it was "place your order at the counter and we'll bring it to you."  Nothing in the conversation required a gendered greeting or response, but the folks there, and the customers, were friendly, even with me in their midst, and on a first-name basis.

The female clerk/waitress, a female customer with two little girls and I were carrying on a casual "women's type" conversation about the cute little under-4-year-old girls (who were climbing about on the chairs, just like two boys.) There was no reaction other than "normal" to my female persona (including from the little girls.)   And remember, this is very conservative, card-carrying-Republican countryside. 

So, today's event leads to one of two conclusions:

1.  I "passed" well enough overall, that nobody took exception to me. (There's that word "pass," which I hate, but can't figure out what  means the same thing, in so few words...)  Since I didn't hear "the dreaded S-word" at all, and since the little ones didn't make an issue of my gender (typically nothing escapes kids), then it's within the realm of possibility...

or,

2.  I didn't "pass", but nobody chose to make an issue of it.

I'd like to think it was the first - my beard shadow wasn't showing,  my makeup was intact (despite the heat),  I worked on my voice a bit, and I watched my gait and table manners.  But reality rears its head, to remind me that it could be the second as well...     Fortunately (or unfortunately), I'll never know.

When "the party's over," it's always a long drive home.  But there should still be time to squeeze in a couple more of these little excursions before my wife gets back.  Her arrival will once again restrict this type of touring - especially leaving directly from the house.  But I miss her so much, that I'll be glad to have life "as it was" once again, before she had to respond to her sister's medical emergency.

More later...

Mandy

PS:  Thank heaven for tripods...

On the road again!

Sorry this has been so delayed...life sort of got in the way of timeliness...

Another day of errands on the other side...recently-reduced bridge tolls and a car that gets great gas mileage makes it less costly to do these things on the other side of the bridge.  It's nice to live out in here in the cornfields, but I do miss having things reasonably close at hand.

This excursion started out as a trip to take my desktop to the repair station for a warranty issue and someplace for a refill of MAC Concealer, followed by a stop at a big box store, a quick lunch, and a couple of other minor stops.  I was dressed in my denim skort and the new black blouse which I found on line, with my sandals.   And full makeup, jewelry, and so on.

                                        
                                            

When I took the computer into the store, the clerk (20something male) greeted me as a female.  We talked about the problem, and he wrote up a report of the issue.  I didn't think much about it as he was writing.  But he continued with the appropriate "Ma'am's" verbally, and so on.  I had to leave the computer there for the tech to work on, and he gave me a copy of the report as proof that they had my computer.  But I didn't read it, other than to note that the computer and name info were correct.

Segue to when I got home after the excursion, and I looked at the paper more closely...   Yes, everything was right...including my being listed as "she" all through the report!  Oh My Gosh!   That was fantastic!  (And that report is a wonderful memento of my day!)

Back to the present: Next stop, the makeup store.  A 20something female clerk greeted me appropriately, with "may I help you, Ma'am?"  I inquired whether they had any of "this" (and  presented the empty concealer container).  Of course they did, and I said "Wonderful...now I can continue to do my makeup!"  As she made change for me and got a bag for my purchase, she laughed and said "We'd be lost without being able to paint our faces, wouldn't we, sweetie?"  I said "You're right...on the days I don't have to wear any makeup, I miss having to re-apply my lipstick and powder my nose."  (A true statement. I find I enjoy wearing it.) 

"Have you considered some really good long-lasting lipstick, dear?  It doesn't rub off on your clothes, a water glass, or most importantly (as her eyes glanced down at my hands and nails) your better half."    I felt my cheeks get really warm, as I replied "That's a wonderful idea, hon.   I'll be needing a refill of other makeup soon, and then you can help me find the right color!"  We girl-talked for a few more seconds, till another customer appeared...and she had to get back to work.

At the big box store, I was addressed as Ma'am by a couple staffers, and gender-specific greetings were omitted by a couple others.  There were no issues with my femininity at the minor stops I needed to make.  But at no time today, or in my previous excursions, did I hear the dreaded "S" word.  I recognize that the issue "comes and goes." 

It's been nice to seemingly be accepted as a "member of the other team" for these few days!  And I hope it continues...

More later...

Mandy

I can't seem to get ahead...publishing posts!

There are several partially finished posts about the past few days' events,  awaiting a bit more attention before publishing.  But things keep happening so fast that quick updates like this occasionally become necessary.

Unfortunately without pictures!

Yesterday I ducked across the bridge to the computer shop, and they know me as female (helped in no small part because of my feminine given name).  So, today I dressed the part - a skirt with a pair of street shorts underneath, and my black blouse, with pantyhose and a pair of flats.   Complete with makeup and jewelry (including Mom's earrings.)  And afterward, made a stop at the cleaner, to pick up some things.  From there, I removed my skirt and earrings, and went to Mom's so we could have lunch together - at a table for four, with two other women.

Now, as long as I'm not in a skirt, Mom's OK with pretty much anything I wear.   We were sitting there waiting for servers to bring our meals, and the one girl commented - "Beautiful necklace.'  I said "Thanks" and omitted the fact it was Mom's because the most recent time that issue was mentioned in front of her, she became somewhat agitated.   No point going there again...  However, the girl added "and a cute matching bracelet.  Must be expensive."  I replied "No, just old."   "You wear them well...   Let me see something" and she asked me to turn my head (which I did for her.)   "When are you going to get your ears pierced?  With that beautiful hair, you really should be wearing earrings every day." And the other girl agreed.

Up to that point Mom hadn't paid any attention to what was being said, but now she got more attentive.  I noticed that "look" and laughed, saying "I don't plan to get any holes punched in my body right now.  But maybe sometime in the future.   It would be fun to not have to mess with clips any more."  Then Mom chimed in, trying to make a point that people will look at me funny if I wear earrings, and think things that aren't good.  But her logic was off the mark, and her point didn't come across.   The other girl just said "Oh, OK."  And from there, we all let it drop, turning to other subjects.

The girls made their point, and they sure seem to know the score...