LOL someone said something enbyphobic and (essentially) transphobic at lunch yesterday. I said, as loudly as polite, “That’s bigoted speech,” but no one heard me. At least I didn’t say nothing. I won’t repeat what she said but it’s the standard VARIANT on ‘please make up your mind about your pronouns’ and when I think how hard I’ve mentally fought to have a genuinely gender fluid character in my stories without all my icky cis assumptions on them maybe I should have been more gritty… but what good would it do? I mean when do you get a white woman to change her mind.
The meal was delightful (jerkwad comments aside) and I admired Ingrid’s amazing wine coloured hand knitted alpaca dress (she let me fondle the hem, thank goodness, because it was like an enormous red cloud of patterned softness) and listened to Jan burble (she is a burbler, and a damned good one) and do you know what, she took my sf recommendations AND SHE’S READ ALL OF MARTHA WELLS’ MURDERBOT STORIES and we all talked about how much we love the Expanse (book and show)
and instead of going to bookstores afterwards like a realio trulio Dunnetteer I headed to the weed store to buy CBD gummies, because pain management is real, you know.
I did consume one glass of Glenfiddich in Dunnett’s honour. AND I have pain behind my right eye today in consequence, it’s my standard response to alcohol consumption.
I love how the background TV was formula 1 so I got to watch Lewis Hamilton get interviewed with the sound off.
Everyone in the restaurant was an old, like me. Like, without exception. Made me wonder about the local demographics.
Took a taxi there, came home via transit, curled up, watched TV, remembered to completely dry my laundry, put the split pea soup away.
Saw one of my all time fave “Vancouver interactions” –
