Do I Look Like a Twinkle to You?

I’ve been called by a variety of names over the course of my 61 years on earth: Leslie, Sis, Mommy, Mom, Nana, Boobsie (don’t ask), and a few less flattering ones I’m not going to mention. But a couple of days ago I was offered a new moniker.

On Thursday afternoon I had volunteered to transport a meal to a group of young single moms in Tallahassee. The coordinator paired me with someone named Robin who would prepare a meal, and my task was to meet up with Robin and then deliver the meal to the meeting in a timely fashion.

In spite of numerous texts and emails between Robin and me, we managed to get our wires crossed and ended up at two different locations. I was at one truck stop and Robin was at another just down the road. Before we resolved the issue I was standing outside the Flying J restaurant looking for someone who might be Robin. Since we’d never met I scrutinized everyone.

A car pulled up beside me and a middle-aged man rolled down his window. I thought, “Hmmm, maybe Robin is a man.” I have a male cousin named Robin, so it was a possibility.

Before I could say anything the man asked, “Say, are you Twinkle?”

Briefly taken aback, I retorted, “Hell no. Do I look like a Twinkle to you?”

He quickly rolled up his window and sped away. I got the giggles. I believe he thought I was a prostitute! Me! In my mom jeans and Star Wars t-shirt. Then it occurred to me that the “Twinkle” he was looking for was likely to be a trans prostitute. Guess I fooled him all around. Studly doesn’t call me “Boobsie” for nothing!

Pesky Words

We have a president who insists on taking us back to a day without science, and perhaps into a future of oppression. Here is a list of words his administration has banned the Centers for Disease Control from using in future budget proposals:

Similarly, our Florida governor, Rick Scott, has forbidden the use of the term “climate change” among members of our state government, as if banning words could make the reality behind them go away.

So, let’s also ban these words:

Murder

Injustice

Poverty

Hunger

Abuse

Disease

Misogyny

There. That should do it. Pesky words.

Seriously, who bans words? Oh, we all know the answer to that. I’m sure North Korea has a long list of words that are illegal to use. Trump’s friend, Putin most likely has a tablet filled with words his people aren’t allowed to utter in public.

Can we panic now? Or will panic be banned, as well?

Peace, people. Please don’t ban peace.

Lost Girl

On this cold, snow laced night party crowds skirt ’round a long-limbed girl.

Who is she? Standing on the sidelines, looking lost, unfound. Nobody claims her,

No one takes her hand. But there are no tears on her plain featured face. Perhaps

Smudged traces of those she’s wiped away in a weaker state. Those private times, 

Few and distant. If she could find the courage and a quarter the lost girl would

Call home. Maybe this time they would welcome her voice. Maybe this time they’d

Honor her choice to be herself, not what a piece of paper and a doctor declared.

  

Surprise and Grace

A couple of days ago in the restroom at Whole Foods I noticed that the person in the stall next to me had on the same Sanuk sandals that I was wearing. So, of course, being the chatty person I am I said, “Hey! Nice sandals!” Silence ensued.

Well, what did I expect? What kind of person starts conversations between bathroom stalls? Only crazy people, right?

I finished my business and left my stall to wash my hands. The other person came out of theIr stall and gave me a shy smile. That’s when I realized that she was a he in transition. No wonder s(he) didn’t respond–probably didn’t want to freak me out, and for that I was grateful.

Now I’m an open-minded person, but even so I must admit that the presence of a man in the women’s bathroom caught me slightly off guard. I hope I didn’t let that show on my face.

We exchanged smiles, and I reiterated my admiration of our common good taste in sandals. “Oh,” she said, “Don’t you love how comfortable they are?” 

I agreed wholeheartedly. She noted that we had similar toenail colors, a pretty coral. Awkwardness dissolved. 😊

She was not a beautiful woman, physically speaking. Her poor face showed the ravages of hormonal changes, no doubt brought on by painful injections. But, she was dressed in this crazy colorful, stylish dress and non-matching turban, and as we left the restroom, she walked slightly ahead of me–head held high, a wiggle in her walk, fierce. 

And I thought, “Yes! You go girl!” 

Peace, people!

Limerick Frenzy

There once was a man from Nantucket….

Whoa! That’s not where I’m going with my limericks.

Apparently limericks come in three types: ones you can tell in the presence of ladies (what a sexist thought), ones that can be told in the presence of clergy, and true limericks. Mine are just a mixture.

Studly and I moved out east
To avoid that old snowy beast
In Florida we’ve begun
To worship the sun
Or to revel in warmth at the least.

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A bather in beauty to see
In a suit cut way up the knee
Once arrived on the beach
As pert as a peach
Amazingly she was a he.

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Believe it or not, the beautiful person pictured above is transgender. Cool, eh? I should look so good!

Jose Cuervo and I went a’dancing
He wasn’t much for romancing
After two or three shots
I puked up my guts
And Jose went on with his prancing.

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There once was a lady so daring
Her bodice was cut low for baring
The men all around
Made hardly a sound
So caught up were they in their staring.

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