A local "trip!"

 

As “Mr. Rogers” might say, it was a “beautiful day in the neighborhood.”  I suggested to Wifey that we might as well get out and about on such a pretty day – and visit someplace on the Delmarva that we had not previously been.  Destination selected:  New Castle, Delaware (not far from Wilmington.)  It has lots of old historic buildings (as in 1700’s and 1800’s), and is very quaint.  Sort of like Williamsburg, VA – only closer, without crossing any big bridges.

 

But what to wear?  She pointed out that temperature was a bit too cool for shorts, and a bit too warm for the leggings I had put on that morning, so the logical compromise was a pair of light gray capris.  And, she pointed out that it would be a good chance to wear my white sandals all day.  (We both wished that the new ones I’d ordered recently had arrived, but no such luck.)

 

A couple of photos of note:  I noticed a hearse drive by, and chuckled at the license plate number.  In the attached photo you may be able to read it, but if not – it’s “DEAD.”   Quite appropriate - especially for the passenger along for the ride in the cargo area. 

 

 

 

Before we left, Wifey took a picture of me – standing beside Immanuel Episcopal Church.  This church was  founded in 1689, and is one of the oldest Episcopal parishes in the United States. Immanuel's parishoners have been worshipping on the spot where the church stands for over 325 years. USA history and that of the town of New Castle have always been closely linked, and continue to be so today.

 

 

 

We chose not to eat in the few restaurants which were open, and the closures probably were a result of town not being crowded,  such that we found a decent parking place.  With the lack of people, and only some stores open, we had few interactions with anyone, though I did notice women saying “Hi” as we walked by. (Of course, I responded.) We had a great time that day, and just before we left, Wifey took a quick picture of me, with Immanuel Church in the background: 

 

We hope to get back again soon, in “normal” times, whenever they begin!

 

Hugs,

 

Mandy

 

Easter greetings!

 To all my readers who celebrate Easter, may you have a safe, happy and healthy holiday!

Mandy

A quickie:

 

Recently I was making some repairs to a piece of furniture, using our antique staple gun to reattach a loose back.  And wouldn’t you know, the stapler ran out of staples.  Couldn’t find any around the house.  So, off to the local hardware store…in my everyday women’s stirrup pants outfit and ballet flats, carrying my purse.  I asked the young lady at the checkout counter where to find them.  She told me, and said “I’ll have someone meet you in aisle 10, Ma’am.”  “Thank you so much, Miss.” 

 

As I stood there, blankly staring at the old staple gun and trying to figure out how to open it, a 20-something young man approached. (Bear in mind that the staple gun was probably 30 years older than the clerk, and did not have any staple info on it.) “May I help you, Ma’am?” 

 

So I asked him if he could find some staples that will work.  And after having struggled to get it open, I couldn’t resist saying I couldn’t get it to open either, but didn’t want to break a nail.  Which got a laugh out of him as he worked.  It took trying about 10-12 different sizes of staples, before finding one which fit.   That consumed almost 15 minutes…but I was so happy to have them, it didn’t really matter!  New staple guns cost about 3 to 5 times what the pack of staples did.

 

At the checkout counter, the clerk omitted gender-specific terms.  No problem with that approach: the good news is that it was another day during which I didn’t hear the dreaded “S” word!

 

Mandy

Gotta take it in stride...

 

Had a (rare) occasion to visit a big box store during our visit to the kids' place in TN before Christmas, in my everyday attire – stirrup pants, turtleneck tunic, flats with trouser socks, and of course, long hair and nails, purse, a mask, and a women’s heavy hoodie due to the cold. Didn’t notice any questioning glances from passers-by.  But when I stopped to ask a nearby twentysomething female stock clerk where to find the product I needed, it prompted a strange reaction.

 

“Pardon me, Miss, where will I find  ________?”  She looked up at me from her duties, stared like she’d seen a ghost, and stuttered out something like “Oh sorry Miss - ummm Ma’am - ummm Sir, I don’t know, but I’ll get someone who does.”  She called a different clerk on her communicator to help me there in aisle 24, and then said “Excuse me now.”  And she skedaddled for parts unknown.  

 

She didn’t have her name tag on, so without a "lineup," identification would be difficult, and I desperately wanted to make my purchase so I could get out of there as soon as possible.  With the virus running rampant these days, and being in the heart of the bible belt, the issue simply wasn’t worth pursuing, for my own physical well-being.  There's a rotten apple in every barrel, and at the end of the day, that rotten apple eventually gets discarded.  (Like that pharmacy clerk who was fired for his actions against me a while back.)  Thankfully the male clerk who showed up was able to help, without any gender references (a professional response) and he took it in stride.

 

I wonder if perhaps the girl was a seasonal hire without sufficient diversity training, very religious and thus not wanting to associate in any way with, or even speak to, “one of those tranny sinners,” or just plain out-and-out bigoted.  I’ll never know, but for the time we’ve spent in the south, it’s likely the first bad reaction I’ve noted.

 

And at the gas station where I picked up a snack right afterward, I was addressed as female, by a 20something female.

 

As it should be…

 

Mandy

Thanks....

 

Thanks to Anuj and his team at Feedspot for including my blog in their "Top 100 Transgender Blogs" this year.  I’ll try to live up to the honor they have bestowed!

 

Mandy...

 

 

A New Beginning...

 

On this first day of 2021 (Thank God 2020 is in the rearview mirror),  l want to thank each of my readers for checking out my blog, and wish each of you a happy and prosperous New Year! And good health as well!

Hugs,

Mandy

Very Interesting...

 

Recently I had a physical therapy appointment.

 

That day, the only two staff members present who had seen me previously seen me were the female receptionist (out front), and a new 20-something male staff member who has only seen me a couple times. (He has not previously used any gender-specific forms of address for me, though when I started going to that office, there was confusion.) This 50something female therapist was new to me, and was obviously a substitute, since my "regular" male therapist was absent. Naturally, I once again precipitated some confusion... (It wasn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last!)

 

My "outfit du jour" was: tan stirrup pants with ballet flats, and a short sleeve long tunic top (untucked.) I was wearing a womens' sweater, and carrying my purse. Accoutrements were my now-long (I need a manicure) pinkish fingernails and long hair. No makeup or jewelry.

 

The session started off normally, with regular warm-up exercises "alone." Then the therapist came in and began the session. As she worked, she noticed my fingernails, and complimented them, with the usual "girl talk" about our nails and keeping them up. Then came additional typical "girl talk" about kids and grandkids. So far, so good, and the conversation stayed generic. She loved my long hair, and that (as well as hair color) became another topic for a short discussion. 

 

Eventually the "my spouse" discussion surfaced, as did discussion about kids' and grandkids' names as well. What tipped me off about the direction the discussion was heading: it included origins of the names and their history in families. Case in point - my given name - which does have a family history. You may remember my mentioning that it used to be a predominantly male name (Dad and Granddad), and which over the past 40 years has been given mostly to newborn females.

 

We continued our discussion, and it apparently solidified her inkling that "all is not what it seems to be." I didn't sense any problem or concern with it, but when she inquired how I wished to be addressed, that made "what was on her mind" obvious. Since this office was rather close to home, and people in town talk, I indicated that because of my preference for long hair and pretty nails, comfortable clothes, and the convenience of carrying a purse, it's easier to simply respond to either form of address. 

 

As the session ended, there was no issue whatsoever, all was well, and she addressed me in the manner plainly shown on their records - as a guy. "Follow the records" is always the safe course.   Unlike the clerk at the pharmacy from a while back (who got fired as a result of his extreme antagonism toward me), this was truly a case of: "no harm, no foul." 

 

And "as a guy" is the same way my regular therapist refers to me anyway...LOL!

 

So now, on to the next adventure...

 

Mandy