Friday: arrived in Seattle, was picked up by my lovely hostess Dafnagreer. Scored a cheap, thorough, Seattle-style mani-pedicure with Facewitha_moon. My finger- and toenails are now a deep, gorgeous merlot, so shiny they still look wet (and no chips, even after two days of not being particularly careful). Take that, horrible expensive Ann Arbor pedicure mills!
After the prettifying of my nails, Facewitha_moon and I drove up to Lake City Way to go to an awesome sushi restaurant with our dear friend Missmoth. I think it was called QQ? They had a metric ton of raw salmon but I was feeling cold and wanting hot food so I had ma pao tofu and potstickers and rice. Despite Miss Moth’s under-the-weatherness, we had a good dinner and lots of wine and wow, holy smokes, both my ladies are now officially ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED, with big rocks on their ring fingers to prove it! Facewitha_moon drove me back to where I’m staying in Ballard, stopping by her house to load me up with lotion and body butter because I’m the driest girl in the world and of course the TSA won’t let you take full-sized lotions on the plane because the terrorists could use them to lubricate their weapons or something–but now I’ve got scented lotion and conditioner and even a little net scrubby thingie to use while I’m in Seattle, so the spa-like vibe that began with my luscious mani-pedi will continue throughout the duration of my trip. Maybe I can scrub off this exoskeleton of dead skin cells that built up thanks to the freezing cold, uber-dry Michigan winter.
Saturday I slept in, turned in the last of my week’s work for Xtoysusa.com (huzzah!), then went downtown to sightsee and shop. Alas, the shopping gods were not with me and I didn’t find anything I wanted, but I did get a pair of tights to replace the old ratty stretched-out pair I’d brought. At the Market I ran into Mzdeliverance and her beau, and we chatted a bit and agreed to try to meet up for Vogue Night later on, and failing that, at the Noc for Sunday night. Mzdeliverance’s black and white dread extensions looked gorgeous and I was jealous and missed my own long-lost dreadlocks suddenly and intensely, but considering how gee-whiz conservative Ann Arbor is, I knew that getting them put back in would doom me to endless conversations with curious strangers about how you wash them, and I’m just not that willing to be friendly with people who think I’m walking around with dirty, stinky hair.
I poked around H&M (um, yuck–what’s with the ugly unflattering 80s stuff? Isn’t that trend over yet?). I ate a burrito at Taco Del Mar, and I looked at shoes at the Nordstrom Rack but they were all high-heeled and gross, and I couldn’t imagine myself negotiating the giant frozen boulders of ice that line the streets of Ann Arbor in anything so foolish–the ice would pretty much just eat the shoes–so then I caught the glorious #15 bus back to Ballard to change for the opera.
Once changed out of my black pants and black long-sleeved shirt into another, slightly nicer pair of black pants and black long-sleeved shirt, my gorgeous and much more beautifully-dressed hostess Dafna and I went to “Bluebeard’s Castle” and “Erwartung” at the Seattle Opera. The first was written by Bela Bartok and the second was Schoenberg, and I was expecting more modern atonal music but was surpised at how melodic both pieces were. In both cases, the stage design was fascinating: the designer used light and shadow to give both pieces a bleary, nightmarish sense of expanded time and place. I wasn’t crazy about the soprano in the first piece–it seemed like the music was really written for a mezzo and she was really pushing her range down in a few instances, but then again, I don’t have much of a musical ear so maybe she was really great and I just have no appreciation for sublety. The soprano in the second piece was impressive–30 minutes of non-stop singing, whoa. I’m pretty sure I liked the Bartok piece better because I’ve always liked the gruesomeness of the Bluebeard story and this one didn’t disappoint, though the pace was slow instead of relying on cheap shock tactics, but that just added to the feeling of being trapped in a horrible nightmare, knowing that something even worse is coming but unable to stop it or save yourself. I also loved the set design for the seven doors, and the way the lighting changed to reflect the contents of each door–the simplicity added to the nightmare fairytale quality.
The operas were short–Bluebeard was 60 minutes, intermission was 25 minutes, and the Schoenberg was 30 minutes–so afterwards I jetted to Capitol Hill to attend Vogue Night at Neighbors. Newly-engaged lady Theflittermouse was on the door so I got in as her guest, and my gosh! Is everyone in the world gettin’ hitched? Is this a sign of the recession–everyone’s trying to seal the deal and make it legal before debt eats single folks up alive? I swear it seems like all of a sudden everyone’s sporting giant-ass sparklies on their left hands, which I guess is good for the sparkly-merchants. I’m not sure I really understand it, but then again, it’s human nature to trauma-bond and heck, I’m definitely pro-marriage when the alternative is loneliness and fast food meals, eaten with only the TV for company. And marriage is a huge business–if we’re not buying cars and houses, at least we can rent venues and buy fancy dresses, and maybe that’ll get some fresh blood into our fleshless economy.
I don’t know–I’m obviously no economist. But I’m cautiously optimistic about the new social conservatism that includes engagement with an actual wedding date instead of endless “living together,” though I do think the idea of civil marriage is outmoded–who really wants the state sanctioning something as private as your agreement to love and cherish your partner? I sure don’t. My marriage is my business and my Church’s business, because it’s a sacrament in the Roman Catholic Church–but I really can’t see inviting the government into it, especially not when same-sex couples aren’t allowed the same bennies straight folks get. Um, yeah, no thanks. I think a marriage should be a big celebration with family, friends, community, and God (if you’re a believer in Him), but inviting the state into your marriage is a slippery slope that leads straight to sodomy laws and the policing of your personal bidness. I’m just saying–I don’t need or want the state’s approval to spend my life with my sweetheart. My marriage, fuckers–you just take my tax money and spend it on bombs and corporate tax cuts, and we’ll agree to disagree. Keep your thumb out of my private sector pie, kthxs.*
So anyhow–Vogue Night was fun and I caught up with a a bunch of folks including DJ Eternal Darkness, who was (of course) DJing. I stuck around for a few hours then caught a taxi back to fabulous Ballard.
And now it’s Sunday morning, and I’m…sick. Not terribly sick, but I have a cough and I sound like a big gravelly-voiced cross-dresser, and while I really want to go out and Do More Stuff before dahn-cing at the Noc tonight, I think I’d be way smarter to shower and rest and take it slow and easy, and maybe even nap.
I should take a long, hot shower. Oh my gosh–wow. I feel beaten. Stupid cold with the worst timing ev-ar!
Oh well, it’s still fucking FANTASTIC to be home.
_____
* This is just me and my political-type musing, so if you disagree that’s totally okay with me. I’m not trying to convince you of anything, so please don’t try to convince me of anything, okay? I hate political arguments on blogs–nobody really listens, nobody really changes their minds, and it’s all just pointless blah blah-ing that wastes everybody’s time. This is what I think, this is my diary, and if you disagree, that’s a-okay with me, but I don’t want to start some big marriage pro-con debate here because (yes, I’m playing the sick card) I’M SICK AND ALL HOPPED UP ON COLD MEDICINE, DAMN IT.
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