Wednesday, May 25, 2016

My Trans Barber Shop Experiences

When I was very young my Dad took me to the barbershop for occasional haircuts. It was two blocks from our house, and cheap.Cheap was important. There were 7 kids in our family.

Fast forward 50-some years. I'm living a block from a barbershop, and a while back I went in for a $14 haircut. The barber said he couldn't do women's hair, but then he relented when I said I just needed an easy trim. There was nobody in the shop to witness his rule breaking, and he finished the job quickly. Our little secret, right?

This morning I was walking past the shop with husband on the way to breakfast. I need a haircut, but now I'm worried, as I broke the rules last time, and now there is a much greater awareness of this whole "using the wrong haircut place". I expressed how dangerous it could be to use the shop that doesn't correspond to my birth certificate gender.

Husband said he feared for my safety if I'm in a place with a bunch of (gasp) men.

"How about that nice salon the next block down?" he says. When I told his Scottish ass the difference was around $40, he decided that I could risk crossing over.

Gotta love the practical Scots.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

What's better than hand shucked corn?

Homemade ice! It's finally cold drink season here in Minnesota. Time to turn on the ice maker in our refrigerator, not a trivial task, but my back survived this morning's bend and reach behind the ice drawer to flick the "on" switch. By dinner time we had husband-pleasing frozen cubes, despite his having to listen to jaw-clenching machine rattling all afternoon, while he tried to watch golf. Fortunately I was at the dentist.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Happiness is . . .

watching the St. Paul Saints beat the Gary Southshore Railcats 18-8.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Yesterday it was a tax. Today it is a user fee.

I'm always reminded of the old SNL skit. "It's a floor wax. No, it's a dessert topping! It's both!"

From today's Star Tribune:

"The speaker (Daudt) was asked if the increase is a veiled tax increase, and he said it is not, calling it a “user fee.” Just 24 hours before, Daudt called (Governor) Dayton’s car tab proposal a tax increase."

Perception is more powerful than reality. It you can convince them it isn't a tax, then it's all good. Later, when you need their votes, you can disingenuously say, "I never raised taxes."

Wink, wink.

Monday, May 16, 2016

Everybody has a story

and most of the time you don't know it. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you find it.

I live four doors down the hall from the author of this story, or I should say lived, because she died in January, while I was in Florida.

I recently learned she was a writer, and I looked up her work. The description:

"I don't feel so good today, Svensk. My chest hurts, headaches and nervous as hell. I was just thinking today, that you might not accept this wreck that the army will turn back to you after the war. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. (September 1, 1944) Sharon Barbara was born in 1948, three years after her father was discharged from a military psychiatric hospital. His nervous condition was a mystery to her and a secret source of shame she couldn't bear to acknowledge, that is, until she read his letters. The box containing the letters that her father wrote to her mother between November 1942 and April 1945-his time in the service during WWII-had been right under her nose for years, in the closet of her childhood bedroom. The Letter Project began as a simple preservation task, but over time, it became a memoir as one question led to another. The author's inventive approach of blending memoir, letters, and fiction, culminates in a captivating story of a daughter's journey through her family's past to find freedom and peace. Inspired by letters her father wrote to her mother before and after D-Day, The Letter Project offers us a beautifully written portrait of Barbara's own battles with self-doubt, depression, and loss."

Saturday, May 14, 2016

This man could have been our president

Yes, I'm talking about Dan Quayle; he's looking very good about now.

How I pine for the innocence of those old days, when a media spanking over misspelling potato ("potatoe") was nasty politics. Nowadays a candidate can call opponents names, like "Lyin' Ted" or "Little Marco", or even worse, compare some immigrants to 'rapists'. Quayle's jab at single motherhood, pales in comparison, but it was furor fodder in 1992.

What has happened to respectful civil discourse, and why do some candidates (looking at you, Mr. Trump) get a pass on it?