Good Sister is no longer, at least legally, the executor of my mother's will. As far as the courts are concerned, she's done. That means she doesn't have to periodically report to them anymore. (Yes, I just verified that.) She's relieved, and I have texted her mazel tov.

Does this mean that Mom's house has sold? Hell no. In fact, just the other day GS sent the other two of us a detailed list of the work in progress or planned to get the house ready for (mercifully quick, we hope) sale. Total cost: $16K. Even Niece E has pitched in, having refused our offer of compensation.

Now I have a mental image of my short, thin sister in a black, face-covering hood with a blood-stained ax. I'm sure she wanted to physically execute the will and a few people associated with it many times.

As promised I went to the monthly women's capital-L Leather munch, complete with bootblacks, at C.C. Attle's. TL;DR: A+ would munch with those ladies women people again!

I'd never set foot in CC's before, which isn't as odd as it sounds because I was under the impression that it was very much a men's space. And it used to be, but times change, and what was the Leather bar — the Cuff — got taken over by someone with a corporate mindset who decided to give yet another home to "gay bros" as Dancer described them. CC's is dark and loud, but it's hella queer. There's mirror junk hanging from the ceiling, which serves the same function as Pony's mummer junk: putting the hets on notice. They also let the Leather women reserve tables, set up the bootblacks' chairs, and pimp their night on the video. And their beer selection is acceptable. So CC's management gets a thumb up from me.

I must say, the Leather munch seems to be flirtier and less popular with n00bs than the women's munch. It may be my preferred munch from now on. The organizers, B & A from the women's munch, weren't the only people I knew there. There was lovely young Squirt, whom I met a few years ago at another event. There was also H, whom I met at Folsom in '17.

H deserves her own paragraph because she looms large in my memory for giving me the most intense damn scene of my life. I knew she'd moved (back?) into the area last year at the latest, but I hadn't seen her out & about until last night. I managed not to squee audibly, but only just. H says she just doesn't get out as much as she used to to public events. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's a bummer for yours truly. And of course she has an unfairly attractive partner, whom I think I met all those years ago.

I got to tell Folsom stories to the bootblacks. The boots I was wearing are now shiiiny. Happiness.

I got invited to a play party tonight, but it's in Tukwila, which is $$$ to get to without a car. Le sigh, because I have every confidence it'll be good.

I was a good girl and left after only a couple of hours at the munch. And why? Because I'd already promised Dancer I'd help her move stuff to storage. I misrecorded a hair appointment this afternoon and thereby deprived her of about an hour, which only compounded the chaos that others introduced. We did get the stuff mostly moved by the time Dancer dropped me off at my stylist's, only a few minutes late, in a U-Haul van*.

I'd proposed to Funny Lady that we meet up in Georgetown for their Pride thing, but I'm too beat. Fortunately, so is she, having just returned from visiting family back east.



*My stylist realized before I did that I was a lesbian in a U-Haul. It is to laugh.

I had today off for Juneteenth. I took a little journey via bus and train to the other county that you can get to on the light rail. And I even had a destination!

But first: I bought a hoe and used it on the joints between the concrete pavers in front of the Devil Girl House. I could hear my father's ghost laughing at me. He died while doing yard work. So I definitely felt like I earned a treat. Besides, the weather was perfect today.

What was my destination? Lover's Lair in Everett, whose owners & operators are a couple who regularly come to latex functions. As far as I know, they're the only place in the area where you can buy latex off the rack. I ended up seeing three regular attendees of local latex events, and possibly one irregular.

So how's the latex? Hey, it's a better selection than Metro had back in the day, and it's probably as good as you're going to find anywhere that doesn't specialize in latex. Prices? In line with what I've seen online.

I must say, they had the best selection of restraints that I've seen locally, certainly, and possibly the best anywhere. There was also a solid selection of other toys, both BDSM and otherwise. There's also a well-furnished dungeon through a secret door (!) where they have regular play parties. They're making me grudgingly respect Everett.

Did I buy anything? Yes. I now have a second latex LBD. Hey, it's actually better in a couple of ways than my other one; I'm considering wearing it to Pride Eve.

Oh yeah, the trip itself. On the way there, I took the bus to the train, and rode the train to the northern end of the line. Thence to not one but two buses to get where I was going. Wait times weren't bad and the stations were clean, but damn, that is some of the most depressing scenery in the Puget Sound area: run-down car culture hell. I found myself cheering for the visually weird stuff, like the boarded-up single-family house oddly close to the highway surrounded by razor wire, or the giant US flag in front of a business that had been made to look frozen in mid-wave. I took the short way home: two buses, no train, right down the highway.

I can now say, once again, that I've at least been through every station on the 1 line. When they connect the 2 line I think I'll go to Redmond and get coffee or something just because I can. But seriously, three of the newest light rail stations, which I went through for the first time today, have no buildings near them that aren't residential. That's... not as it should be. I hope it changes over time. The good news is that it has elsewhere: lots of housing got built near older stations that were in big commercial areas already.

From the US Dept. of Irony: both at Lover's Lair and at the supermarket nearest home, both people who rang me up were Black. On Juneteenth. That's... not quite right.