My last real-life update seems to be from the 8th. Oh. So, like, almost two weeks ago. My time seems to have sprouted wings... I'll see if I can split this stuff up by topic and day, or something.

✪ Kidsitting: It's been going well. I've been there another two times and it's been great--running around, playing sports, drawing, sciencey things. They were shocked to find how many sports I played and can join them in, including tree-climbing (I use ‘sport’ loosely). 3rd grade twins. They can be a handful sometimes, like the lass today, but it's still great fun.

✪ Name: My legal/birth name came up. I guess the mother and twins were looking at my UU congregation's picture yearbooks from when I was 9 and 15--the first has my legal name, the second has Kiwi. The lad was apparently curious and wondered why I was Kiwi and was something else before; his mother explained that I was a different person before. But that day, at the end of kidsitting (only when his mother showed up), he said, "[Birthname] was a great kidsitter today!" I was preparing a pitch for the lass and I froze; I felt gross all over. The mother noticed. When we all went inside, I ended up with something like an argument with an 8-year-old about why I was allowed to choose to be Kiwi, as he argued that I was only [birthname] or [nicknames of birthname]. Eventually I pulled the respect card: "My name is Kiwi because the name was given to me and I accepted it. When people respect me, they call me Kiwi, because being called Kiwi makes me happy and is kind, but being called [birthname] makes me sad." He got it. I also explained that it was okay to be one half or the other half of my birthname, but not both--for example, if my name were Rebecca (it isn't; that just came to mind as an example that worked) then both Reba and Becca would work. No combining, last half preferable. Since the event, I've been really contemplating how a name change would work--which name I would use (nickname for birthname, middle name, kiwi-as-first-or-middle, something else entirely). I'm hoping I'll come to the realisation soon. I'm getting sick of this conversation while having that down as my legal name; I feel that at least if I have a different name down and the conversation comes up, people will realise that it's serious enough to have me change it—or to really be able to say “my name is X and I don’t like to talk about it, thank you”. And if people don't respect my feelings after discovering that, then, well, eff 'em. If an 8-year-old can totally twig a conversation about respect, adults should be able to; no time for the ones that don't.

✪ Temp Agency: I went to the agency and had the meeting. It was fine, really. The moment I was really proud of was when I was asked what my references would say about me; I thought for a few seconds of the old recommendation letters I got and two things jumped out: "Conscientious and hard-working." I said it with confidence and without hesitation. The guy seemed pleased; he said it was always a bad sign when people uhmed and ahhed and eventually said things like, “I suppose you’ll find out when you call them?” I was pleased to have a confident Kiwi moment. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to listen to much else during the interview as far as what I was looking for: a “bridge” arrangement as I looked for my own job; part-time; shorter-term; not looking for a permanent job. They called while I was house-sitting with the exact opposite: far-ish away; full-time; business formal; indefinite time-frame with possibility of a permanent position (and sounding all thrilled as if it was exactly what I was looking for). It was also data entry (I did that during the summer of 2008; I cried every night before work and every morning before I had to start.) I had a mini panic-attack on the phone at the thought of that but I managed to remain mostly okay as I finished up the conversation, reminded him of what I was looking for, and ultimately requested he offer the job to someone else and that I would gladly accept the oddball 4-hour-filing-gigs he mentioned no one else wanting. I sobbed when I got off the phone; the dogs (Sir Princess Wagglebutt and Sir Princess Rolly-Poly Snuffelufagus, I call them fondly) came over and wagged and licked my tears until I was okay. I felt simultaneously terrible about and grateful for the privilege I have of turning such things down; I know that if I were in a worse spot with my life and family, I would have to take such an offer, no matter how shallow it made my breathing. (Then, it was also privilege that gave me the skills for such jobs: having a software-developing father growing up meant typing as I learned to spell. I have very fast fingers now; I’m at the top of the temp agency’s data entry job. It’s a pity I tend to hate it, unless it’s for a good cause.) The temp agency is a bit of a journey away, anyway, and I mainly signed up so that there’s proof for the loan companies that I’m signed on with an employment agency as I keep looking.

✪ Housesitting: I house-sat. It was good. Had to lay down the law with Sir Princess Rolly-Poly (she has taken to wandering off during out-time), but other than that all was fine.

✪ Horses: My grandmother helps out with horses three afternoons a week, giving hay and mucking the two stalls and paddock. She’s up in Maine now to take care of my uncle’s cats, so I’m doing her work. It’s pretty fun being active and around horses again; it makes me feel like a character in a novel. The horses aren’t always well-behaved (guess the owner didn’t train them out of head-butting for dominance) and I was a bit rusty on my horse behaviour the first two times, but I was getting the hang of it by the time I left. The old “nyeh” sound--all nasally, nasally, and unpleasant--always worked better for me than a simple “no” when they’ve done something I don’t like/are getting in my space. Also, funny that my ponytail counts as a real tail for them—when I flicked my head, they seemed to think it was an irritated tail-flick. Teehee.

✪ Providence: I went down to Providence for a day with my friend Vee (venomebat). We met up at the park (where there was this perfect swing-chair for reading, and on a glorious day!) and walked Thayer Street a bit. Got tea at Tealuxe (I got bubble tea); we talked and talked and talked. We hadn’t seen each other in person for 6 years, but as I said, we’re on the same cul-de-sac of “Internet Street”. Had crepes (she went savoury; I went nutella-and-strawberries ‘cause, uh, you all know me?). My friend was working so we caught up a bit and she told me to go to the Rocky show that Friday, ‘cause she was playing Magenta. Vee and I hit Wickenden, too, and parked on a street near my adopted house. As we were walking up Wickenden I heard someone say “Kiwi?” I jumped and turned: there was Cabbit in her car. So we hurried over and met up; Vee and I went upstairs, where Cabbit told us about her bad news (death of a nigh-grandmother). I stayed longer than intended to distract Cabbit and keep her a bit cheered. She always tells me that a friend of mine is a friend of hers, anyway, and she and Vee hit it off; we talked for a long while. Earlier I had tried to explain Cabbit’s existence in my life to Vee and at last settled on, “She’s my platonic life partner.” I told Cabbit about that, too; she laughed and said it was true. Vee and I headed up Wickenden, hit the erotic boutique (run by an awesome butch lesbian, although a lovely man was working there and we got to know him after I purchased the [a, really] Lesbian Kama Sutra); we talked about sex and intimacy and romance and friendship and all the important things in life. Then we went to the Duck & Bunny (a snuggery) for finger sandwiches (split), tea (I got pomegranate-something that was lovely), and cupcakes (I got chocolate salted caramel and it was divine). I told her I was counting it as a platonic date so my friends would stop bugging me about dating; she laughed and agreed. We continued talking and talking until we at last parted ways. Then I ended up back upstairs at The Providence Household, watching a short video and hanging out with everyone. It was beautiful. I am so incredibly lucky to have these amazing people in my life.

✪ Rocky Horror: I went to the Rocky Horror event, as instructed. Sat with Cabbit, met her new fling-like-thing (she’s partners with Z and now also with G, who occasionally gets with T, whom Cabbit is also now getting smoochy with to make what she excitedly squeed about as “somewhat of a triad”, which is adorable), and somewhat watched the show. Cabbit told me that she had passed my “platonic life partner” comment to G, and that ze had said it was incredibly true. I’ve only met G once, so that delighted me. Cabbit also said that if Molie (long story: friend I knew online pre-Cabbit, eventually made friends with Cabbit through Molie after they’d become best friends) lived here, we would have a platonic-life-partnership triad going on. Which is also delightful.


I think that about sums up my life this month. I’ve watched Upstairs, Downstairs (blatantly for the Alex Kingston episodes because how often does one of your fave actresses play a lesbian with a dark, clever sense of humour and use of the word ‘invert’ sarcastically?) and enjoyed it. Sad that her character seems to have disappeared now; I enjoyed it while she was there. Perhaps I’ll stay on. Thankfully I’ve never voiced any particular disdain for fans who follow actors/actresses around without watching before and/or after; equally thankful that I don’t tend to feel such disdain, and so don’t judge myself too harshly for it.

Oh! I forgot! Not quite done with the life things, because this is a matter of great importance: boots.

I’ve been searching for a pair of 14-eye Docs to replace my old (broken) ones for a while now, with no luck. Doc Marten sold production to China and Thailand a while back; it seems few have been as impressed with the boots since, but I really do like the way they look and feel in their original form. The similar boots I found were more expensive. The UK-made Docs are now $220, and I always promised I would not be One Of Those People who could spend >$200 on one pair of shoes. Certainly not online, anyway; my foot would have to fall in love in person for money of that sort to pass hands.

I thought I’d found exactly what I was looking for. Called the shops, asked if they were available, was told they were. I arrived to find the worker could apparently not count, for there were no 14-eye plain black boots to be found. I tried on a different pair to see if size 7 or 8 would be better, then had them order the pair I had wanted online (free shipping) after making sure that returning them would be easy-peasy. I was excited all weekend.

They arrived today. They look precisely the way I want, but as soon as I picked them up I cringed. They feel cheap and plasticky. I didn’t trust a Doc that had the emblem on the side (the non-UK-made ones do); now I know not to. My old floral ones were China-made, I think, but they didn’t have the side-emblem and the material was much nicer. I’m willing to go back to the dreaded zipper and wear only leggings/skinny jeans with my default boots, if I must. I couldn’t even bring myself to tie these ones all the way up. I had Mum take a look, too, and she agreed, so we decided to return them and go back to Plan EBay, in which I keep my eye on eBay for pairs I like, cheaper.



Not black and they have a zipper, but I liked them and they were cheaper so I went for it. I can be a sci-fi Kiwi! My first pair of Docs were silver (less shiny) and 8-eye; I wore them down ‘til the tread was gone, and I’m wearing them again today, just because grip isn’t as important in non-winter seasons (ice ice baby).

These were $83 total and the Docs we’re returning to Journeys was $125, so I figure that gives me $40-50 ‘extra’ (guilt-free) to put into finding a pair of black Docs (because I do want a pair of quintessential black boots), even if they’re not 14-eye. Anything above 8, probably.

Which hopefully means my quest for boots will be over soon. (Mind, my endless desire and appreciation will not cease; it is just that I will be boot-settled with my primary [default] boot-relationship and secondary boot-loves, and I will know joy down to my toes. I can admire from afar and occasionally seduce [or be seduced by] a pair from time to time, but without the urgency of a Quest.)

I also blame my love of these boots on my childhood love of Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century. Because, Zetus lapetus!, those boots are camp and shiny and 21st-century-as-seen-from-the-90s. I shall be Kiwi, Pixie of the 21st Century.

I don’t even. My life. Why ya’ll put up with me ‘nd my ridiculous life? I win so many awards for ridiculous.