Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, December 2010

‘Twas the night before Halloween, and all through Boystown, not a creature was stirring, not even a . . . well clown would work I guess, but it is so very not true! You will recall that Halloween fell on Sunday this year. At this point, I shall resist the urge to go off on one of my infamous digressions about how Halloween should always be on Friday or Saturday, and stick to the story at hand. With the annual Halloween Extravaganza being the weekend before Halloween, and Halloween itself being on Sunday (as previously mentioned), I felt strongly that some sort of adventure was called for on the Saturday between these events, that being October 30. Are you still with me? Feel free to go back and reread if necessary, we will wait. . .

OK then, let us resume with another digression. For some months my heel time had consisted of fairly conservative events, venues and outfits. I was definitely feeling the desire to slip into something short and sexy, and to be out and about, perhaps to be admired, maybe even have my fanny patted! So, this would not be a trip to the library or the local family restaurant.
With an adventure to be planned I naturally contacted my sister adventurer and all-around party girl, Sarah. After much consideration, we concluded that Boystown would be our destination and that sexy and sassy would define our outfits for the evening. It might have been Halloween Eve, but there were to be no costumes for us. We also decided that a small group would make the evening just right. Positive responses to our inquiries added Rebecca, Jackie Miller, and Audry to our little adventure. We intended to start with dinner, then hit some of the clubs for drinks, laughter and whatever.

As our evening out approached, I naturally pondered what I would wear (duh!). I quickly decided that it would just have to be my little red sleeveless dress. With just a slight nod toward the reality of colder weather, I planned to add my black jacket to the mix. Thinking that I might wear high heel sandals or peep toes, I painted my toenails for the occasion. But again, the weather steered me toward closed toes. I briefly considered wearing boots, either calf length shiny black or thigh high silver. In the end I decided I did not want to cover my legs that much. Hmmm, have I mentioned that I like to show a lot of leg?

Knowing that parking in Boystown can be difficult and/or expensive, we decided to just take one car in. I volunteered to be the designated driver, so about 7:00 that night I was off to pick up my companions. First up was Rebecca. Being the young and adorable member of our little troupe, Rebecca was running behind schedule when I arrived at her hotel. She ended up applying her nails in the car and lost one during the process. It’s OK though, Sue found it the next day (yikes!). We picked up Jackie at Janna’s Place where I think she was attending a woodworking class (or was it fishing?). Finally we connected with Sarah and Audry at Sally’s Pancake House, and we were all off to Boystown.

I had made a short list of possible locations for dinner. The first was on Halsted and within easy walking distance from the valet parking at Sidetrack. However, when viewed from the street, the place looked more like a brightly lit diner than the cool bistro we thought appropriate for our evening. We drove on to my next choice which was Wilde (as in Oscar) which is a block over on Broadway. From the street it looked good, so we set about the task of finding parking. I managed to pass by the entrance to a small lot just a block from the restaurant. I tried to circle the block, but one-way streets and construction made that a nightmare. After much driving and turning and not finding of anyplace to park, we finally got back to the lot and pulled in. There was no attendant in evidence, and we quickly found that there were no parking places available. Sigh. At that point I belatedly consulted my trusty GPS and found that there was a parking garage just a block away. Pulling into that garage, we were immediately greeted by a friendly attendant who asked us to pull in and leave the keys. Gee, I hope that guy really worked there. Oh well, we were hungry, so we left the keys and with much clicking of high heels, we were off to dinner.

Wilde was a very nice place. We were seated in a prime booth near the front of the establishment. It was raised slightly from the main floor which offered us a nice view of the other patrons, and offered them a nice view of us. I noticed one athletic type guy looking and pointing us out to his girlfriend. I smiled and waved to him. He sheepishly waved back and stopped staring.

Something that we noticed that night was that the Halloween atmosphere seemed to make people much more free to openly look us over. No doubt they saw us as being in costume, rather than as a group of sexy ladies out on the town. A bit disconcerting, but nothing a few drinks wasn’t able to cure.

Now there is a bit of information with which I must make you aware, for it is crucial for proper understanding of a later part of this tale. (Rather like the way that the reader must be aware that Marley was well and truly dead.) Our dear Audrey decided to wear something on the formal side that evening. She wore a tuxedo jacket, shirt and bow tie with a short black skirt. She then ended up being seated in the middle of the group with two of us on each side. Can you picture that? Now hold that thought until after dinner. And don’t think about an elephant. Oops, got you!

Speaking of costumes, there was one guy dressed in white robes and a beard. His costume led to some disagreements among our group. Some (including myself) opted for Rasputin the mad monk of Imperial Russia. Others thought him to be Jesus Christ. He passed by our table a number of times on his way to the front door. Apparently he was going outside for a smoke. This of course seemed improper for JC and further solidified my vote for Rasputin. We were never able to catch his attention as he walked by, but the mystery was later revealed by other means.
At the end of a very good meal, it was time to visit the ladies room. Rebecca had already headed that direction when Jackie and I decided the time had come. As you might expect, the restrooms were at the very back of the restaurant. Getting there required navigating past numerous tables and then along the length of the bar. It definitely was not a route to be taken by a tranny lacking in self-confidence. As if to prove the point, as we passed the bar area, we were treated to wolf whistles and applause. Ah, they noticed that I dressed in my sexy best! That was almost as good as a pat on the bottom, maybe better!

Our business done, we made our way back upstream. It was at that moment when we encountered one of those chance moments that changes everything. We were stopped by an older gentleman sitting at the bar with his date. He looked quite dapper in his beret, and he was very complementary about our appearance that night. He explained that they walked into the restaurant and saw the five of us sitting there with Audry in the middle. He guessed that Audry was supposed to be Hugh Hefner and the rest of us his playmates. It was a bit of a low blow to Audry until she realized that being behind the table she could only be seen from the waist up. So, she looked like a lady in formal drag as Hugh Hefner.

We stood and chatted for a few minutes and our new friends inquired about our post-dinner plans. We explained our vague plans about hitting some clubs, whereupon he suggested that we should go to the little place a few doors down where they had a group playing jazz, with no cover charge. We agreed to consider it and then we took our leave to return to the others at the table. However, before we could take more than a step or two, Rasputin/JC approached us and asked with an Irish accent if we would consent to have our picture taken with him. I readily agreed (another duh!) but insisted on first knowing which historical figure he was portraying. The question was answered when he pointed out that he was wearing a crown of thorns. I can’t remember Rasputin wearing such a crown.

We returned to the table and passed along the intelligence about the jazz club nearby. We were still uncertain, so we all went back to the bar to discuss the situation. In the end, we all headed down the street to Sura to see what we might find.

Inside Sura we found that the 3-piece jazz group was taking a break, and we looked around to find a place to sit. Our new friend exchanged loud greetings with the priest at the bar (yes, that’s what I said) who passed back blessings and approval to push together tables for our group that was now swollen to seven. We sat down and made introductions. Our new friends were Patricia (Pat) and Patrick (Pat). She was pretty quiet and reserved (and probably a bit hammered), he was very outgoing. He graciously bought everyone a drink.

I do not remember exactly how Warren was pulled into the group, but Patrick began doing some verbal sparring with him and soon he was seated with us. Warren was a nice guy, younger than Patrick, and good looking. With the band playing, I found it difficult to hear all the details, but I gathered that he was involved in music, perhaps a DJ or a promoter or something. I found out later that he is actually a jazz recording artist with quite a few albums (yes, I showed my age by calling them albums) to his credit.

After a few drinks with Warren and the Pats, we decided it was time to move on. I gave each of them a card with my email address. I have since traded messages with Warren, but nothing from the Pats. We took our leave and went to retrieve my car. Fortunately, it was waiting for us at the parking garage, so apparently they guy really did work there.

At that point it was just about midnight. We were a bit divided about whether to take in a club or to call it a night. We decided to continue braving the cold wind on our exposed legs and try for a club. We drove West on Belmont and turned North on Halsted. As we turned we saw that there was a long line outside of Spin. Heading further North we found similarly long lines at Berlin, Roscoe’s, and Sidetrack. There were multitudes of people on the sidewalk and cars cruising the street. We turned West on Addison and found that the throngs continued until we passed Wrigley Field. Had it been a warmer evening, I think we would have been happy to park and just walk among the crowds, but the cold wind and the long lines convinced us that it was time to head for the suburbs.

Since it was cold, we naturally decided to end the evening by going into Sally’s Pancake House and having ice cream. Yummy sundaes! We took some photos outside in the cold, and then we took our leave of Sarah and Audry. Rebecca and I dropped Jackie off in the alley behind Janna’s Place and drove away. We found out later that Jackie (1) was “in her cups”, and (2) had failed to take her keys to the establishment with her. This leads to a wonderful image of an inebriated Jackie, wearing a delightful minidress and high heels, climbing through a window.

I dropped Rebecca off at her hotel, and made it home in time to get undressed, remove makeup, and get into bed by 4:00 AM. It was a great night, and quite different from what I expected. My only regret was that no one patted my fanny.
*****
I have been honored to write this column for The Primrose for a little over 2 years now. It has been very gratifying to occasionally meet people who read my words and actually seem to like them (there is no understanding people’s tastes). But my personal journey through Transland has brought me to a point where I am no longer able to deliver a column every month. In the future, I hope to submit occasional articles as the spirit moves me, and it will up to the esteemed Publisher of The Primrose to determine if those articles are worth publishing.
Thank you all for rambling along with me. I hope to see you out and about one of these days.

Hugs,Greer

*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, November 2010

By the time you read this, the saga of the unintended puppies will be over, much to our relief. They have flown off to Idaho where the careless breeder will be careful to pass them on to happy homes. Nine weeks of taking care of nine puppies is about nine times too long and nine times too many!
*****
Sue and I recently returned from a trip to Washington DC where we were celebrating our 29th wedding anniversary. That’s right, I was married while still an infant. Why Washington DC? No particular reason except our first visit together was too short, and we have been wanting to go back. It is a great city in which to be a tourist, since there is so much to see and experience. No heel time, but the fun of taking a moonlight Segway tour pretty much made up for that.
*****
The day after we returned from our trip, it was my great honor to attend a commitment ceremony for my friends Maureen and Dave. Dave has been the driving force behind TNT, the LGBTQ youth group in Joliet. Maureen is the wonderful lady who is willing to put up with Dave. As I previously reported, they decided that they would postpone a “legal” marriage until such time as their many friends in the LGBT community are able to marry freely.

The ceremony was held in a forest preserve down Joliet way. Long-time readers will not be surprised to hear that I had been pondering for weeks just what to wear. The Bride and Groom planned to wear black, while the Maid of Honor and the Best Man would be wearing copper to match beads in the Bride’s dress. Wearing a nice dress seemed inappropriate for a forest preserve ceremony in the fall, so I opted for a woolen, plaid skirt and boots. I had planned to match this with a turtleneck sweater and a camel jacket (a very IN color this fall I understand), but unexpected moderate weather convinced me to wear a short-sleeve blouse instead.

During all my planning, I had firmly in mind that the ceremony was at 3:00 PM. I intended to give myself plenty of time to make all preparations and to make the drive to Joliet in advance of the ceremony. Fortunately as I was thinking about starting my preparations, I double-checked the invitation. Ceremony at 2:00! So much for leisurely preparation and early arrival. Thankfully, I managed to arrive just as the ceremony was about to begin. It was a beautiful ceremony.

After the ceremony I had the opportunity to greet a number of young people that I met during my visits to TNT when I talked about being transgendered. I must say that it was a wonderful feeling to have these young adults greet me with happy words and warm hugs. It makes me think that maybe I helped a little.

I should mention that I was the only MtF crossdresser in attendance (I think), but to be fair, the Best Man was crossdressed for the occasion. Desiree (generally known as Des) has been Dave’s partner in leading the TNT group. In agreeing to be Dave’s Best Man, she felt it was only proper to dress the part. So in addition to black dress slacks, she wore a nice copper dress shirt, and an impecably knotted copper necktie. She was truly a stud.

Maureen and Dave made me feel very special at their ceremony, and I am very grateful for that and for their friendship. These are two people who are thoroughly straight, but who truly support all of us through their love and their open and welcoming approach to life.
Before I move on, let me say this. It is very unlikely that I will ever be a bride. But, I do wonder, will I ever have a chance to be a bridesmaid?

*****
The very next weekend was to be the annual Halloween Extravaganza hosted by Transformations and Skyscraper Heels. I have been attending this party regularly for the last several years, and this year was to be no exception. I was particularly looking forward to seeing my friend Stacey since this is the only time that she gets out each year.

As always, I was in a quandry about what to wear. Believe it or not, I have some scruples about what I wear. I will not wear a sexy female umpire costume because I am hopelessly disinterested in sports. I will not wear a sexy Strawberry Shortcake costume because my daughter used to watch Strawberry Shortcake. I will not wear a sexy taxi driver costume because yellow is not my color. The other problem is that all of the really good looking costumes seem to be the ones that cost over $100, when my budget is 12 shiny pennies and a bit of pocket lint.

So, I decided to take a different approach. I would use some things from my own closet and come as a fantasy; somebody’s fantasy. But that did not quite work out as planned. Just days before the party, Stacey let me know that a family obligation was going to prevent her from attending. I was disappointed and considered not going at all. But rather than waste a Saturday night of prime heel time, I decided to give our friend Sarah a call.

It is time for one of my infamous digressions. Some of you are probably aware that Sarah recently went through facial surgery as a step in aligning the external self with the internal self. Well, the Halloween party was just 3 weeks after the surgery, and she really did not think that she would be ready for a big evening out. Honestly, I saw her the first week after the surgery, and I was afraid it would be many months before she would be ready to resume our plans to terrorize Muggles wherever they could be found.

I called Sarah to see if she was up to some company. I thought perhaps I would take dinner to her house and we could eat, drink and chat. To my surprise, she expressed a desire to get out of the house for a while and have a bit of fun. At that point, the party sounded like it would be a bit much for Sarah’s first appearance with her new look, so we opted to meet for a drink and dinner.
We met at the Melting Pot so we could say hello to our friend Nina (who looks absolutely fabulous and now has a BOYfriend, wow!). I must say that I was stunned by the changes in Sarah’s appearance. She was still a bit swollen in places, but she looked great. I had not really anticipated the reality of the changes. I think she looks like Calista Flockhart (Ally McBeal/Kitty Walker), but with some meat on her bones (pardon the choice of words). As we had drinks and chatted, I could not help gawking at her. Her face truly is more feminine now. Nice job Dr. Z!

To digress again, I told Sarah that an Indian restaurant might be nice for dinner as curry sounded good to me. So she directed me to a place that she said had good curry. It turned out that the restaurant was actually Chinese and there was no curry on the menu. However, the owner seemed to be Indian as did the majority of the customers. Of course our waitress was Russian and the hostess was French. Go figure. Oh, there was an Indian restaurant in the same strip mall. I suspect the owner was Chinese. Diversity is wonderful!

After a very good dinner, Sarah decided she was not ready to go home yet, so we decided to crash the Halloween party. We did not really crash. Rori has been much too special for that. When we arrived, we went to Rori and told her our tale. Since dinner was over, she graciously allowed us to stay, provided that we bought some drinks at the bar. Tough duty, but we do our bit for the cause. Oh barkeep!

There was a good turnout for the party, and most of the guests were in costume. I felt bad that I had worn a skirt suitable for dining at a family restaurant instead of the micro-mini, pleated skirt I had intended to wear. In honor of breast cancer awareness month I had worn my special pink pearl bracelet and a hot pink scarf. But without the ultra short skirt, no one could appreciate my matching hot pink panties. Rats. Of course with the way that eyes were constantly turning to watch the photographer’s assistant, no one would have noticed my panties anyway, even if I left off the skirt entirely! Sigh.

We stayed long enough to see the awarding of the prizes in the costume contest, but by then Sarah had reached her limit. I walked her to her car and intended to go back to the party. But I realized that I too was tired and ready for the drive home. A party pooper again.

*****
Can you believe that we are about to enter the holiday season? Simply amazing how time does manage to fly by. So, be sure to grab hold of opportunities to be happy and to do things that make your life worth living. And if those opportunities should happen to bring us together in the coming days, please share a hug with me. Hugs are one of the best things about being a girl (that and the skirts, and the stockings, and the heels, and lingerie, and . . . )

*****
Hugs, Greer
*****

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, October 2010

Hello again dear reader! It is lovely to have you join me for another of my little rambles through this, that and the other. As always, there is nothing earth shaking to be found in the following paragraphs, but I hope you receive some level of enjoyment in return for your investment of time.

I fear that I have disturbed and disappointed my wonderful editors with yet another late submission for this month’s The Primrose. Alas, the last few weeks have been very busy and stressful at work, and time at home continues to revolve around the puppies that I told you about last month. The result is that I have found it very difficult to devote time to writing. But here I am now. I am sitting in front of my PC, and words are starting to come out of my fevered brain, racing down my arms to the points where my fingers are becoming part of a biological-mechanical interface with the keyboard, and the words are then magically appearing on the screen before me. As usual they are complete drivel, but ain’t it grand!

*****
Let me just digress from all things t-related for a moment, and give a quick puppy update for those who might be interested. The rest of you, take a quick break, and we will meet you in the next section.

You may recall that Sue and I unexpectedly welcomed 10 Irish Terrier puppies into our household on August 20, which just happened to be the deadline for last month’s column. I am sad to report that one of the little guys only made it for 3 days, but he passed quietly in his sleep. Happily, at 5 weeks of age, the other 9 are thriving little eating and pooping machines. In case you are wondering, the answer is no, we will not be keeping any of them. They are adorable, but raising puppies is definitely not what we had planned for our free time.

*****
In the last month, I have had exactly one (1) evening of “heel time”. Time and space permitting, we will discuss the whys and wherefores later. For now let me tell you a bit about my one evening out.

None of my faithful readers will be surprised to read that friend Sarah (aka “S”) has a prominent part in today’s tale. It happened that her birthday was coming up, and I felt that it was essential that we do something to celebrate. Now her actual birthday was to fall on a Tuesday, and on that particular Tuesday, S would be in far off Atlanta for SCC (I think that stands for “Swarms of Crossdressed Cuties”, or something like that).

Since I was not going to be in Atlanta at that time, it seemed like a reasonable idea to celebrate either before or after her trip. Pretty smart eh? So, we decided to get together the Saturday before, wear sexy dresses, go to Boystown, have drinks, have dinner, have drinks, dance a little, have drinks, flirt a little, have drinks . . . well, you get the idea. As we were making plans for when and where, S started to whine.

Now for this next part to work right, you really need to think it (or read aloud if you are so inclined) in a really whiny voice. Like a child would use when they say, “I don’t wanna take a nap, I’m not sleepy!” Go ahead, practice that one and then we will go on. By the way, have I mentioned how unfair it is that we are forced to take unwanted naps as children, but then as soon as we get old enough to appreciate the practice, we are no longer allowed to nap? Moving on . . .

So S says in her best British whiny voice, “I have to drive to Atlanta on Sunday, I don’t wanna stay up late on Saturday! Maybe we should postpone until another time, like January.” What? Postpone our birthday get together? Not a chance! In the end I overcame her objection by agreeing to travel 4,000 miles through uncharted and untamed North country to get to her remote living quarters so she wouldn’t have to stay up late driving home at the end of the evening. Ah, the sacrifices we make for our friends!

The other sacrifice I made was in my selection of outfit for the evening. My sense of propriety (twisted as it may be) tells me that Saturday night in North Muggleland is quite different than Saturday night in Boystown. Therefore, I reluctantly gave up my plans of wearing a sexy little number, and I selected something more age and place appropriate (Publisher Katie would be so proud). Of course having been both a Boy Scout and a Girl Scout, I went prepared with a sexy little skirt I could change into at a moment’s notice, just in case.

Three days before the agreed time of our meeting, I began driving north. Stopping only for fuel, and to transfer from car to dogsled, I managed to arrive safely at S’s new home. Hmm. “S’s” looks sort of goofy doesn’t it? Rather like a snake with the hiccups. S gave me the grand tour, and I can report that her home truly is grand. Of course there is only so much you can do with an igloo. Renovations are still underway, but soon I am sure she will be ready to throw a big party so we can all come and trash the place.

We sat down in the living room for a cocktail while I presented S with gifts for the occasion. These included a house-warming gift (a plastic scarepenguin for the lawn) and then a birthday gift (a pair of panties embroidered “Not tonight chump”). We then sat and stared at the large hole in the wall above the fireplace that S assures me will one day hold a large-format television.

With cocktail hour concluded, we began seriously considering where to have dinner. Short of driving the dogsled back to civilization, we really only had two choices. We could go to Starbuck’s (I understand they secretly opened a store on Mars, just to be ready) or to Outback Steak House. We were hungry, so we decided to go see what the Aussies might have on the barbie (I shall resist the urge to mention Ken).

Now I must freely admit that when I am at my girlie best, I am rather nervous about approaching a place that has country music playing. I know that this is prejudice on my part, and I have never had a cowboy actually say “hey, this little lady is actually a dude in a dress!” and proceed to kick the whatever out of me. In fact, I have never had anyone say anything mean at all. In spite of being just a tad nervous, and knowing that the best defense is a good offense, I flung open the front doors of Outback and yelled, “barkeep, three fingers of rotgut!” Oh wait, I think that was only in my head.

Actually, we walked in serenely and we were greeted with warm and friendly smiles. We were immediately escorted through the semi-crowded dining room to a nice booth in the corner. I suspect the manager thought the corner would keep us contained and as far from the other customers as possible. It actually worked out very nicely because it gave me a great view of all the other patrons. Of course S had to sit with her back to everyone else, so she had to rely upon my descriptions of the angry looks that we were getting. No, I’m kidding again! Apart from the staff, I really don’t think anyone else even noticed us. Darn! I knew I should have worn that short, sexy dress!

You will no doubt recall that my memory is very poor for things like people’s names and how to spell occcasssiooon. I remember how to spell Mississississipppppppi only because of the little sing-song diddy. My mind also tends to wander a bit and I forget what . . . huh?

Oh yeah, names. It is time for me to apologize to the absolutely wonderful ladies who took care of us at Outback that night. Our server was Laurie, but it might have been Lori, or Lauri, or Lowrie. Her partner’s name slipped entirely out of my head, except that I think it started with an “M”. Michelle? Melissa? Marianne? Mississississippppppi? I am pretty sure the manager was Heather, but I might have that wrong too. Anyway, my apologies ladies for not remembering your names properly, but I do remember how nice you were to S and me. And for that, I thank you!

As always, I assume that the staff tumbled to my “secret” almost immediately. Of course this was not a problem and soon we were laughing and joking and using them as models for what proper female cheekbones are supposed to look like. We ended up sitting in Outback until they were ready to close, eating, drinking and chatting. All together, I think we were there for nearly 3 hours.

L&M both had a number of pins on their shirts which we found were awarded for various good deeds, including customer compliments. We immediately summoned Heather the manager and praised the wonderful service and attitude that L&M had brought to our dining experience. When the ladies returned to our table, they had both been awarded new pins that read “I served a Trannie!” Not really, but they did get swell new pins because of our praise, and we had a great time!

When we finally left Outback, all the other customers were gone. It was late, so we headed back to S’s place (that still looks funny) and had a nightcap. Then it was time for me to round up the dogsled team and start the long trek home. Unfortunately I was intercepted by a pack of wolves on the way home. They abducted me and I was held for ransom. All the while I was in captivity, the wolves belittled me for my choice of outfits. “You should have worn something short and sexy you trannie!” To their surprise, Sue refused to pay any ransom. They eventually negotiated a price for my return. They only had to pay Sue $10 to take me back.

*****
I said I would talk a bit about the whys and wherefores of my limited “heel time” this month. Naw, you don’t want to hear all that real world stuff. But I will close with a look at what October will bring for me.

After returning from a vacation trip to Washington DC, I will have the honor of attending a commitment ceremony for two friends in Joliet. Many of Maureen and Dave’s friends are part of the LGBT community (including moi), and they are sensitive to the laws barring their friends from marriage. Consequently, they have decided to commit themselves to one another in the company of their friends, and as Dave put it, “we will get married when our friends can get married.” A toast to Maureen and Dave!

Halloween will get off to an early start on October 23 when Transformations and Skyscraper Heels present “Halloween The Party”. This of course sets of my annual quest to find a costume that is (a) femme, (b) sexy, and (c) inexpensive. Hopefully my understanding Publisher will set the November deadline for some date after the party so that I can report on all the fun.

Halloween itself falls on a Sunday this year. Personally, I think the calendar needs to be changed so that it is always on Saturday. I am thinking that the Saturday night before (October 30 that is) would be a good night to make the long delayed journey to Boystown. Perhaps not in a costume as such, but dressed to party. It might even be a good time for the silver thigh-high boots to make an appearance!

I hope I see you around the bar!

*****
Hugs,Greer

*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, September 2010

Hellooooo possum! I really do not know why I started with that, but you probably already figured out that I type pretty much anything that pops into my head (squirrel). Yet you still read on. Very curious. Have you discussed this strange behavior with your therapist?
*****
As per my usual modus operandi, my August calendar of events kicked off with our monthly support group meeting. I have mentioned before that this group is not large, but we always seem to have some interesting discussions both during the official meeting and during our traditional post-meeting cocktail and appetizer session. This month was a bit different because our moderator/co-founder/voice-of-GGness (aka Traci) is getting married soon. To celebrate, we decided to throw her a small wedding shower. We had cake and soda and gifts, and that brings me to the key experience that I would like to share with you.

To digress for just a moment or two (but directly related to my tale), I would like to introduce you to my spouse. I have mentioned her several times in this column, and it occurred to me that if I am going to continue to talk about her (as I undoubtedly will), this would be the polite thing to do. Besides, then I can refer to her by name, rather than using the term “my spouse” or “my wife” (I never did like the fact that it is very cumbersome to refer to a spouse/partner without using the possessive “my”). Therefore dear readers, I would like you to meet my wife “Sue”. OK, that is not her real name, but she remains concerned that being publicly associated with her is liable to cause me to be unintentionally outed. So back to the tale of the wedding shower gifts.
Sarah and I (you remember Sarah of course, partner in craziness, full-speed-ahead TS, ex-patriot Brit, and member of the support group) decided it would be fun to go together on the purchase of some shower gifts. Originally this was envisioned as a Sarah and Greer experience, unfortunately it ended up being Sarah and “whats-his-name, but I will get to that. Anyway, we thought it would be fun to go to our local Lover’s Lane store and buy some fun things for Traci (fun meaning sexy and probably embarrassing).

As these things go, time passed and we failed to arrange for shopping during any of my usual “heel time”. It happened that Sarah was scheduled to come over and have dinner with Sue and I (see how much space and energy I saved by saying “Sue and I” as opposed to “my spouse and I”) on the Saturday before the wedding shower/group meeting. As this would be our last opportunity to shop before the event, we figured we better go for it. As I have mentioned before, as supportive as Sue is, she is not comfortable spending time with Greer, so I was to be “what’s-his-name” for the evening (sigh). We arranged for Sarah and I to go out and do our shopping and then come back to the house for cocktails and dinner.

Before the weekend and our planned get together with Sarah, Sue casually asked me where we intended to go shopping for our gifts. I told her what we had in mind. Oops! After giving me a verbal knock upside the head, she told me in no uncertain terms that what we had in mind was totally improper, unacceptable, and un-American. She also explained with a bit of an evil smirk that it was a very “guy” idea. Ouch! That was definitely a low blow, especially since she was absolutely right.

But now what were we going to do? What kind of “real” gift would be appropriate for the happy couple? Internet to the rescue. Hmmm, everyone registers at Crate & Barrel. Sure enough, Traci had registered a long list of swell things at C&B, and that is where Sarah and I journeyed that Saturday afternoon before returning home to a marvelous meal prepared by the marvelous (and brilliant) Sue (I made the dessert though).
*****
The tale that I would now like to tell you has only a passing reference to the trans community. Nevertheless, I hope that you, dear reader, will find it to be a worthwhile use of your time. Of course the fact that you spend time reading this column says you place minimal value on your time, but we shall let that pass.

This tale begins with a growing desire on Sue’s part to bring a new bundle of joy into our home. No, not of the human variety, more of a canine bundle. It had been a number of years since we lost our beloved Scottish Terrier (gone to the big ceilidh in the sky), and Sue had always wanted to have another faithful companion in the house. With me spending more time “out and about” in recent months, she expressed a desire to look for a new “puppy”. Actually though, what we really wanted was a dog who was past puppyhood. In particular, one who was already housetrained.

[Note: a “ceilidh” (kay-lee) in Scotland is a gathering that usually includes traditional music and dancing]

Sue spent months investigating the various breeds available. We had fallen in love with the general intelligence and temperament of terriers, so that limited the search. We agreed that we wanted a dog that was smallish, but not a lap dog, and that further narrowed the scope. Ultimately she identified the Irish Terrier as the perfect fit for us.

Next she began scouring the internet for available Irish Terriers. We also started checking with local pet shops. It turns out that this is not a widely available breed. Apparently not currently popular in the dog-purchasing world. Ah, but Sue was not deterred. She kept looking and found a breeder in Missouri with some puppies. During our vacation in April, we paid the breeder a visit and got our first “in person” look at both adult and puppy versions of the Irish Terrier. Sue was sold on the breed, but the timing was not quite right to dive in, and we were not really comfortable with the breeder. After returning home, Sue continued to search for her perfect puppy; a female Irish Terrier, at least 1 year old.

The big break came in June. She found a breeder in Idaho with a 2-year old female Irish Terrier. The breeder had kept this particular dog as a pet, but recently decided she did not have the time to devote to her. After much correspondence, Sue decided that this was the dog for her. Business was taken care of, and arrangements were made for “Marina” to be sent to us by air on June 26. Well, on June 23, we received a call from the breeder. It seems that Marina had gone into heat, so a delay in shipping was necessary. The big day finally arrived, and we met Marina for the first time at the Delta cargo office at O’Hare on July 3.

We can now fast forward through the following weeks. We quickly adapted to having a pup in the house again. We also quickly realized that being a terrier, Marina was happy to ignore our calls regardless of what we might call her, so we changed her name to Molly, which seemed a bit more Irish (and which has just 2 syllables and is therefore perfect for a girl name). Molly was eating well, although she seemed to be putting on a bit of weight (I know, I know, but let us not jump ahead).

On Friday the 13th (honest, I am not making that up), we were watching TV. Molly was laying on her side, legs splayed out, tail toward me, and belly exposed. “Darling,” I said to Sue, “I hate to say this, but I really think that something more than just gaining weight is going on with Molly.” As we both looked more critically at Molly’s belly, we quickly agreed that a trip to the vet was in order. OMG! The next day, our local vet summed up the situation by showing us x-rays of Molly. Ten, yes ten, little puppy forms could be counted. They looked like aliens! The vet assured us that the puppies had been growing for at least 55 days. Now the astute (or very bored) reader will note that this means our adorable little Molly was “seduced” on or before Father’s Day (funny), June 20, which was two weeks before she came to live with us. Oops!

As you might imagine, we talked to the breeder, and we are convinced that she was as surprised as we were. She offered to buy Molly back (no one ever offered to do that when our daughter was going through her dark, gothic teen years) and to pay any other related expenses. She also assured us that the only possible father was another Irish Terrier, and said she would be happy to help us place the puppies through her contacts. So at least we would not be having little German-Irish Sheperriers or Irish-French Terrioodles.

After we did a bit of nesting of our own (whelping bed, puppy food, towels, etc.) we settled in for puppy watch. Fortunately, Sue was able to work from home while Molly continued to grow bigger and become more restless. She kept looking up with those big brown eyes as if to say, “what the heck is happening to me?”

I am very happy to say that the big day arrived along with the deadline for submitting my column to the editors. At about 4:00 AM on Friday, 8/20, puppies started making their way into the big, cold world. The 10th and last puppy made her appearance just before 10:00 AM. Puppies, mother and grandparents are all resting comfortably.
*****
I said that the tale of Molly the Irish Terrier had a small tie to the trans world, and I have left that for the end (the tail end so to speak). A week or two after Molly came to live with us, the time came for me to dress up and go out to enjoy some heel time. As usual, I was sequestered for 10 or 12 hours getting shaved, showered, made up and dressed for the evening. Molly and Sue were in the living room watching TV. Sue had probably told Molly not to laugh at Daddy when he came down the stairs looking funny. When I began to descend the stairs, Molly retreated to her “safe place” (under the dining room table) and began to emit a low growl. When I called to her, she slowly and very cautiously came out and allowed me to pat her head, but it was obvious that she was not at all sure about me.

The next time I went out, Molly was still a bit unsure, but she was much more willing to accept me once I sat down and stroked her wiry coat. It was as though she was thinking, “OK, he is wearing a skirt, but it is Daddy. Humans. Go figure.” The following week, Sue decided to wear a nice white skirt to work along with a pretty blue print blouse. This is not her usual attire, but now and then the femme thing hits her (not as often as for me of course). Molly came into the room as Sue was finishing the look by strapping on some platform sandals. She looked at Sue as though she didn’t know her. Sue called to her, and Molly looked over at me. Sue identified the look and voiced what she thought Molly was trying to say, “Daddy, Mommy is wearing your clothes!”

*****
Hugs,Greer
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, August 2010

[Sorry about the delay in getting this posted, another sad case of CRS]

Hello again dear reader. You may recall from last month’s Ramblings that this year’s Be All left me with the realization that I felt differently about the experience than I had in previous years. Well, I have since come to realize that this feeling of change in myself is impacting much more than just my time at Be All.

Many of our sisters and brothers have talked and written about being transgendered as a journey. I find this to be a very pleasant analogy (or is it a metaphor?). I picture beautiful cruise ships starting at different ports, cruising through countless islands, making calls at many exotic ports, and all heading for different destinations. And there we are, enjoying on-board entertainment as we cruise, exploring new islands when we are docked, eating and drinking and dancing and partying and occasionally leaning over the rail to feed the fish. We may share parts of our journeys with others. Perhaps we meet old or new friends from other ships while in port. Some may decide to enjoy a prolonged stay at a particularly appealing port. It is lovely to picture myself on a beautiful trans-tropical island, wearing a flowered sarong and a gorgeous hibiscus flower in my hair (which has magically become long and full). Sigh.

Sorry, I think I drifted away there. What was I saying? Oh yeah, the journey. My point is that my cruise ship seems to be cruising to a new port. During a recent dinner with Audrey and Sarah, it was noted that Sarah’s journey has come a long way in a fairly short period of time (I think her cruise ship is a speedboat). Sarah acknowledged that she has changed a great deal during the last year, but she also stated that I have changed during that time too. Really? This definitely gave me pause. (How do you give pause? Should it be accompanied by a gift card?)

[pause]

I realize that she was correct. All the times that I was pushing Sarah to go places and do things, I was there too. In amongst all of the fun times and experiences that helped Sarah bring her true self out into the light, I was finding out more about myself too. And what did I find out? I see you cringing and wondering what that crazy Greer is going to say now, but have no fear. I have not decided to denounce my transness, take testosterone boosters, and become a Sarah Palin supporter. No, what I found out about myself are either things that I have pretty much known all long, or that just indicate I have cruised on to a new port.

First, I love my spouse. You are probably tired of hearing that she is my best friend and the most important person in the world to me, but it is true. Time with her is precious to me, even if all we are doing is watching a Friday night movie on television and eating pizza.

Second, I am somewhere in the middle of the infamous gender spectrum. I wish I would have been born girl, I should have been born a girl, but I was not. Furthermore, I cannot honestly say that I am a female trapped in a male body. My innermost self, my soul if you prefer, has elements of male and female. Of course society has conspired to keep the female elements confined for much of my life, and I believe I would be happy to live out the remainder of that life as a female with the male elements neatly put away.

Third, and somewhat a continuation of the previous point, I am not happy with presenting myself in an androgynous way. When presenting as male, I do so fully. I do not underdress (wear femme foundation garments under male clothing), although I have done so occasionally in the past. Granted, I prefer a male look that is a bit softer and certainly not macho. Likewise, when presenting as female, I do so fully.

Fourth, and again building from point 2, my happiness and sanity continue to require that I be able to express the feminine part of my soul on a regular basis. There may come a day when I can put these female elements quietly away, but that day has not yet arrived. Frankly, I hope it never comes. I would rather put the male elements away, but that just is not as likely.

Fifth, real Champagne is wonderful. It is so much more rich and interesting than the domestic counterparts. Sure this has nothing to do with anything else, but my mind wandered and these are my Ramblings after all!

So now I have laid bare my thoughts about myself, but what does it all mean? What has really changed in the last year? As I sit here wondering the same thing, I realize that the biggest change is not any of the things I said above. Nope. Sorry to have wasted your time there. Tut tut. Carrying on.

I think the biggest change is that I do not think nearly as much about dressing as I used to. A year or two ago, I would spend hours thinking about an upcoming opportunity to dress and go out. I would mull over the clothes I was going to wear and how I was going to look. While I was out, I was almost constantly aware of being out in public en femme. Now I seem to be focused more on who I am with, where we are and what we are doing. Certainly the clothes still matter, and I am just as concerned about looking good (or as good as I can look) as ever before. I suppose I am more confident, more comfortable, more at ease with who I am and how I appear.
Hey now, is that the ship’s horn sounding? Are we entering a new port of call? Come on, let’s go explore!
*****
I will freely admit that I have had a fondness for skirts as long as I can remember. I like dresses also, but they tend to be a lot more tricky to fit to my non-femme body. Anyway, it may be a new blouse that I need, or a pair of shoes, but I always end up looking at skirts. Recently someone asked me how many skirts I own. Hmm, I found that I did not have an answer. I slipped away and went to do a count. I was somewhat surprised to find that I had 49. While 49 is a very nice number (7 squared you know), I strongly felt that an even 50 would be much nicer. But then I remembered, I had purchased a new skirt the day before and had not even hung it in my closet yet (out of skirt hangers you see). So I did (and I do) have 50 skirts. Too many? Can a t-girl have too many skirts? Let me just take a look at what is on sale at Target today!
*****
Having gotten this far through my column this month you may well be asking yourself, “will it be fair to the trash to wrap it in this garbage?” Either that or, “Greer, when are you going to tell us about your latest adventures?” The true of the matter is that adventures have been in short supply since Be All. Point #1 above (love my wife, all that stuff) has actually caused me to pass up some opportunities I would not have missed before.

I cancelled out on plans to ride on the CGS float in the Pride Parade. Thanks to the wonderful coverage provided by channel 7, I got to experience the first third of the parade, or at least what could be seen of the first third over the heads of the commentators while they blathered on about this and that. Of course they pack up and go home before the majority of the parade passes by, including the beautiful CGS float with its cargo of gorgeous friends.

Likewise, I passed on the First Annual CGS/Equality Illinois BBQ on the roof at Sidetrack. This one was really tempting. I like Sidetrack, and Katie Thomas promised in her column last month that the place would be simply crawling with admirers (you do know I enjoy admirers). However, in addition to taking time away on a Saturday night, the BBQ was during the heat of the day (OK, not the middle of the day, but is was over 90!). I just do not do heat very well, and the darling admirers probably would not have had any interest in a little puddle of Greer after I melted down.

I did enjoy meeting with our support group early in the month along with our traditional stop for post-meeting drinks at Rock Bottom. I also attended the CGS meeting where Dr. Campbell talked about voice training.

But the highlight of the month was going out for dinner with Audry and Sarah. We went to Houlihan’s in Schaumburg, and had a delightful time. Nothing extraordinary. Just three gals having dinner together. Delightful.
*****
I removed my brain from my head, I twisted it like a wet sponge, but that is all that I could squeeze out. Perhaps it is the weather. Or the economy. Or the fact that I still have not won the lottery (still have not purchased a ticket either, so it probably is a very long shot).
Before I close, I would like to ask you do something. Well, 2 somethings actually. Do something nice for yourself. You deserve it. Then do something nice for a friend. They deserve it too.
See you next month!
*****
Hugs,Greer
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, July 2010

I will be adding my usual (meaning unusual) take on Be All further along, but I would first like to share something that was new to me, and possibly will be to you as well.
My friend Georgia lives in Iowa (I know, but just go with it). For those who are geographically challenged, to find Iowa, just go West on either I-88 or I-80 and cross over the really big river. You can’t miss it. You will know you are there because everyone will be driving 5 MPH under the posted speed limit.
Anyway, I met Georgia in 2008 when we both attended Be All for the first time. Georgia was generally rather quiet that year (except of course for that Tequila incident in the lobby bar of the hotel), and even now she makes lame excuses to avoid going out on the dance floor. However, give the girl a guitar and the music takes over (witness the impromptu jam session in the lobby bar at Be All this year). But there is more to Georgia than just Tequila and guitars.
Recently I received a very formal invitation from Georgia. It was beautifully printed and had the look of a wedding invitation. The front of the invitation read “And now for something completely different . . . .” Inside, the formal script read:
“On Saturday July 3, 2010 Jeff and Barb wish to acquaint you with Jeff's entire self, including the transgender person widely known as Georgia.
“Trannies hardly ever come out. Undoubtedly this will be a unique event. Please join us to celebrate the union of Jeff's Spirit, to offer friendship and support and to answer your questions on a topic completely different.
“A keg of Dark Ale will be tapped no later than 1:00 p.m. Lite American Lager and wine will be available, of course. J&G's grill prowess will be tested. Children are welcome in the discretion of their parents. Resolve any doubt in favor of attendance.”
[Please note: Knowing that the offer of alcohol and food to those of us in the Chicagoland area might overtax the highways and bridges between here and Iowa, I elected to delete Jeff and Barb’s surname and their address from the above text.]
I must admit to being totally blown away! Most of us go to great lengths to keep our neighbors and friends unaware of our trans selves. But Georgia (with the help of a willing spouse) is going the opposite direction. Instead of pushing her “straight” and trans friends apart, she is pulling them together. And, she is doing it with formal invitations! Very, very classy! Brava!
I know that most of us do not feel that we are in a position to come out to the world as Georgia is doing. But, perhaps next year a few more of our trans sisters and brothers will follow her example. And then a few more the year after that. In time, these actions, along with other outreach and education activities, just might take us to the point where no one has to even think about whether or not to be out as a trans person.
Thank you Georgia!
*****
And that brings us to Be All. As I write this, it has been 10 days since the 2010 Be All wrapped up. There have been countless messages communicated through the Be All group about the excellent work done by the organizers and the hotel staff. Photos are being shared by the official event photographers as well as by many individuals, and I suspect that the July version of The Primrose will be/is full of words and pictures that describe and show what a great event it was.
It was indeed a wonderful event. But rather than rehash the same stories, let me take this opportunity to tell you how Be All was different for me this year. No, not just because I actually went to some seminars (that’s right, I managed to miss all of them last year). It was different this year because I was different this year.
My first Be All was 2008. That year I checked in on Thursday and stayed through Sunday. It was too short. In 2009, I checked in on Tuesday. This was better, but it still seemed to be a bit short, especially in terms of time to spend catching up with special friends. So, this year I arranged for some “pre-Be All” activities. As a result, my Be All started the Friday before the official start on the following Tuesday.
As happened last year, my spouse and my daughter scheduled a vacation of their own to coincide with Be All week. This year they arranged to rent a house on the beach in North Carolina. Early in the morning on the Friday before Be All, they left for their two-day drive to the East Coast. I was saddened by their departure, but I was also very excited about the week that was about to unfold.
As a regular reader of my literary drivel, you know that I frequently take a single event and write an entire column by detailing the many little odd and (occasionally) humorous tidbits from said event. What began that Friday was a series of events, any one of which might have made an entire column by itself. Since my both my Editor and my Publisher have these strange notions that The Primrose should not be completely devoted to my deathless prose, I am unable to give you great detail about all of these events. Besides, I had to devote the space in this paragraph to tell you why I could not give more space to other things, so that is less space I have available. Oops. I did it again. Before I get completely silly with this, here is a very condensed description of the noteworthy events that began that Friday after the departure of my little family.
Friday Evening – Sarah and I checked into a hotel on the Miracle Mile where we joined up with my friend Sharon from Baltimore. Our first stop, was Hamburger Mary’s. Traffic delays (I love driving into Chicago on Friday afternoon) caused us to be too late to have dinner at that point, so we had a drink and moved upstairs to Mary’s Attic for a performance of Lady X presented by Hell in a Handbag Productions. One of the great things about this venue is that half of the room is taken up with a bar. So the play was accompanied by both spirits and appetizers. Following the show, we went downstairs to eat. There were probably spirits involved there too, but my memory starts to get a bit cloudy then. I seem to recall getting a cab outside Hamburger Mary’s, but after that I draw a blank.
Saturday Morning/Afternoon – The three of us went forth for manicures and pedicures after a bit of breakfast. Sarah and I had both planned to do either gel or acrylic nails, but we each experienced language difficulties and opted for regular manicure and polish. We were then off for shopping on Michigan Avenue. After a visit to Bloomingdales, lunch became a necessity, so we stopped into Frankie’s Scaloppine for some delicious Italian food (and a glass of wine). Next it was on to some serious, but affordable, shopping at Filene’s Basement (which was on the upper floor) and then the trendy (and very busy) H&M. By mid-afternoon, we were exhausted (or perhaps it was just me), so we retrieved our bags and the car from the hotel, and headed for the suburbs. Sharon and Sarah checked into the Doubletree (Be All hotel), and I headed for home. The plan was to take a little nap, prep for the evening, and go out to dinner. The time was about 4:00 PM.
Saturday Evening – I woke up from my nap just before 9:00 PM. Egad! By the time I got ready, returned to the hotel, repeated my profound apologies in person to Sharon and Sarah, got back in the car and drove to the nearby Yorktown mall, it was about 10:00. Since it was too late for a nice sit-down dinner, we headed over to Rock Bottom Brewery where appetizers are available late, and are half-price after 10:00. After consuming copious amounts of appetizers, we headed off to Temptations to do a bit of dancing. The crowd at Temps was a bit thin, but there were enough people so that there were perhaps a dozen on the dance floor for some songs. Unfortunately, after an hour or so, the DJ went off into her own world of rap music, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had driven all the dancers off the floor. When it appeared that “good” music was done for the evening (no offense to lovers of rap music), we decided to call it a night.
Sunday Morning/Afternoon - We started with an excellent Sunday brunch at the Redstone Grill in Oakbrook Terrace. Personally, I find that bottomless Mimosas are an excellent way to start the day! Add the wonderful food and a completely delightful server, and you just know you are in heaven. After brunch we went grocery shopping for the party that was to be main event for the evening. The balance of the afternoon was spent on party prep at my house. Sharon was the Executive Chef. Sarah assisted wherever possible. I think I was in charge of alcohol and napping. Late in the day we were joined by my friend Erica from the Twin Cities area. She was in charge of looking fabulous and entertaining Juan (don’t ask).
Sunday Evening - The party was fairly small, but I think everyone had a good time. In addiThe official drink for the evening was the Cosmopolitan. It felt really good to have my friends at my home, sipping drinks, eating good food, and just enjoying our time together.
Monday Morning/Afternoon - In spite of the wonderful job that Sarah, Rebecca and others did in late-night cleanup, there was still quite a bit of cleaning and tidying up to be done the next morning. After that was done, I had to pack so that I could move into the Doubletree for the duration. Unlike previous years, I did not take everything femme that I own. Of course I still ended up taking enough clothes for a month. Two large and two small suitcases later, I got myself ready and it was off to the hotel.
Monday Evening – Erica, Sharon, Sarah and I went out for a wonderful meal at Capital Grille. Apart from the excellent food, wine, service and setting, you have to love a place that assists you with your napkin by giving you white if you are wearing something light colored, and black if you are wearing something dark. Very nice.
Be All officially got started the next day, and I will not begin to try and describe all that went on. However, I did tell you that I would explain why this Be All was different for me. Certainly the great weekend activities that I described above made this Be All new and different. But the things that made it really different for me were more personal. The first had to do with stamina.
In previous years, I was ready, willing and able to party late every night without a problem (OK, so I didn’t go to seminars). This year, I went to bed early a couple nights, including the night of the big Dr. Z party, and I took naps several times during the week. Now it is true that I had hurt my shoulder a few weeks earlier, and that I had been taking muscle relaxers and pain killers. Nevertheless, I see my overall party stamina being reduced from past years. Could it be age? Nah, must be the drugs.
The second factor was (and is) even more personal. I missed my spouse. Sure I missed her last year, but apparently there was a critical point somewhere between the 5 days we were apart last year and the 10 days this year. Yep, I missed her.
I expect that things will be different next year too. Just what Be All will look like for me, I have no idea. I do know that Be All is a great opportunity to get together with old friends and new, and to be happy and comfortable in my femme self for a prolonged period of time. So it might be different, and I might be different, but I will be looking forward to it!
*****
Hugs,Greer
*****Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, June 2010

Before I go anywhere or do anything, I would like to take a few lines to talk seriously about the topic that Emma Vosicky captured in her most insightful poem last month entitled “It’s All the Wives’ Fault”. In a very few lines, Emma reminded us that we often disguise our own fears by blaming others, particularly our spouses, for holding us back. And this made me think. Do I view my wife this way?
I must admit to having had thoughts along these lines. I have thought that if I were not with my wife, I would certainly be using hormones and possibly giving serious thought to surgery. However, I would like to stand up and say very clearly that my wife is not holding me back. The truth of the matter is that she is now, has been for many years, and will continue to be my very best friend and my true soul mate. It is extremely difficult for me to imagine my life without her.
We all know that life is full of trade-offs. While my wife is content (in a bemused and somewhat bewildered way) with me expressing the feminine part of my soul a few nights a week, she would not be able to live with me as a full-time woman. She has gamely accepted removal of body hair (which I have always hated), but the more significant body changes associated with hormones would be too much for her. So, this is my choice. I choose to be happy and content as a part-time girl. I am frequently envious of my friends who are making the changes that I too would like to make. But in the end, I know that being with my wife and sharing the very special love that we have, that is the right choice for me. I make it freely and with great joy.
*****
We now return you to your regularly scheduled ramble with Greer.
*****
We recently made a Tuesday night visit to Hunters for no particularly reason. I only mention it because Christine showed up, and she decided to hoist me up on one of the “strut your stuff” blocks that are in the middle of the dance floor. Of course being a Tuesday night, no one was dancing. Nevertheless, there I was, just like a Go-Go girl (albeit a bit longer in the tooth). Naturally we had fun taking pictures. With luck, my wonderful editor will include some for your amusement.
*****
The first Thursday of the month found a small group of us at Rock Bottom Brewery in Naperville. Seated next to us in the bar area was a group of half a dozen guys who had apparently just been to see Iron Man 2. We decided not to interact with them directly because (1) they had apparently been drinking for a while before we got there, (2) the testosterone level at their table seemed to be fairly high, and (3) several of them had Iron Man 2 masks. Fortunately there was no difficulty at all. Actually the masks were pretty cool! I think I would have had trouble drinking my cosmo while wearing one though.
*****
The big night for the month was the “Dirty Thirty” birthday party for our gorgeous GG (or ciswoman if you prefer) friend Nina from The Melting Pot in Schaumburg. This was to be a three-phase evening and it turned out to include some new and exciting experiences for us. By the way, when I say “us”, I am again referring to Sarah, that droll, English rose with whom I have shared so many adventures in the past few months. She has become pretty much impervious to my efforts to push her into new and possibly uncomfortable situations en femme. Nevertheless, I find her remarkably fun to be with, especially since she seems to actually find my quirky sense of humor amusing (poor deluded girl).
So on with the “Dirty Thirty” party. Have you ever wanted to try bowling in a skirt? Well we did, and this was our chance. The starting venue for the evening was the Lucky Strike Lanes in the River North section of Chicago. I knew that I did not want to wimp out and wear jeans or capris or even (shudder) a “skort”. What can I say. You know I am a bit of a tramp. If there was not at least a chance that my panties would show, what good was it? However, not being enough of a tramp to be too blatant, I left the tight miniskirt for a later time and wore a looser skirt that was just above the knee. Unfortunately, we did not get around to our obligatory “outfit photos” until after I had changed into the tight miniskirt for part 2 of the evening, so you will just have to take my word for the fact that I was actually wearing a fairly modest skirt. Sure, scoff if you like, but I do own such garments. They can be found waaaaayyyy in the back of the closet, with all the dust on them.
Arrival at the bowling alley was great fun. Parking was 2 blocks away, and we had to run the gauntlet of happy, Saturday night, Chicago people who had emerged from their normal weekday, inward focused, tunnelvision, and were actually noticing other people. The were also not yet sufficiently inebriated to be unable to focus on us. Nevertheless, while the eyes of many were upon us (admiring our grace and beauty no doubt), I did not detect even a shred of negativity.
It turns out that Lucky Strike shares a building with an AMC theater. The bowling alley is on the second floor as is the ticket and refreshment counter for the movie theater. The ground floor seemed to house mainly telephone booths, escalators, and had lots of room for young people to hang around waiting to get picked up and to watch trannies come and go. We went up the escalator behind a pair of teenage girls who seemed to be having trouble making up their minds about us. As much as I enjoy striking up conversations in such situations, I was reluctant in this case due to their young age. So I contented myself with a pleasant smile. Behind us on the escalator there was a group of teenage boys, one of whom seemed to have decided to lay down and rest on the way up. I did feel a bit exposed from that angle in my knee-length skirt, but it probably would have been more fun for the young lad if I had worn the tight mini. Ah, it brings back memories from my own past. Hanging around the escalator waiting for girls to ascend wearing miniskirts. Yes dear friends, I was a young pervert. Now I am older. Still a pervert of course, but older.
On the second floor we departed from the theater crowd and approached the upscale bowling emporium that is Lucky Strike Lanes. The friendly hostess quickly gave us directions to find Nina’s party, and we found ourselves walking past a dozen busy pool tables. Ah, now there is another game just made for t-girls wearing short skirts who have exhibitionistic tendencies (like moi)! But no pool for us that night. In spite of the many “come hither” looks on the faces of the dudes we passed playing pool (or were those “what the heck?” looks), we had a date with bowling balls, and of course, those ever so sexy bowling shoes.
We were warmly received by Nina and her family and friends, and we quickly determined that we were the only representatives of the t-community in attendance. In fact, apart from the cocktail servers in their adorable cheerleader type skirts (where can I get one?), we were the only ones in skirts. As usual, the ciswomen were all in jeans or pants. Of course in choosing to wear skirts (even knee length) we really were not intending to blend in were we.
As befits a bowling alley, our first stop was for a drink, and then it was off for bowling shoes. The big question in my mind was how to request an appropriate size. Do I just request my ladies show size and trust that the clerk will be dazzled by my feminine charms and automatically give me ladies shoes? Or, do I save him the uncertainty and specify “ladies size 11”. Or, do I completely captitulate and ask for by men’s size. Actually, asking for a men’s size was really out of the question because I was not about to wear men’s shoes and spoil my whole outfit! So I decided to be trusting and just asked for size 11. Damn, it was a man’s size 11. Fortunately, it turns out that the shoes were unisex, with both men’s and ladies sizes shown. Like many others queued up, I only had to ask for a smaller size and all was well. No harm, no foul (OMG, did I just make a sports reference? Please forgive me. It must have been the setting).
Properly shod, we proceeded to pick out our balls. Yes, I know, but let us just leave that particular herring lying on the ground shall we?
At this point, I need to backtrack on one small point of my tale. When we were invited to Nina’s bowling party, I was certainly enthusiastic about my chance to wear a skirt while bowling. Sarah on the other hand was ecstatic. It turns out that she has been a very accomplished bowler, including a high game of 295 or 298 (that is nearly perfect for all you non-bowlers). For me, on the rare occasion when I try my luck, breaking 100 is always my goal. Sometimes I do, sometimes I do not. I think I managed to bowl 170 at some time in the very dim past, but I claim nothing but luck for that score.
On this particular night for me, it was all about the outfit, and having a fun time. Sarah wanted to pull down a big score, even if she had to sacrifice her beautifully manicured nails to do it. I think I threw 4 gutter balls in the first 5 frames, and when I managed to knock down some pins, I was completely unable to pick up a spare. After she settled into her groove, Sarah was throwing a mixture of good and so-so. After 2 frames she moved into the lead and stayed there. Until the tenth frame. I finally managed to throw a spare in the ninth. And then I stepped up and threw a turkey in the tenth. That would be three strikes in a row. Final score for Greer,127. Dear Sarah, well it was something less than that. And she broke a nail. Very sad.
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The second phase of our evening was to be drinks at Hub 51. More specifically, at Sub 51 which is a semi-private club in the basement. This place was packed to the rafters with “beautiful people” most of whom seemed to be a lot younger than me, have a whole lot more money than me, and to be at least an eight on a ten-point scale. I had changed into a new tiered miniskirt from Express and some hot silver stiletto heels, but I knew I was not in the same fashion league as this crowd.
There was a bachelorette party going on, and it would have been a great opportunity for some fun outreach. Alas, the music was much too loud to communicate, so effective outreach (and/or muggle baiting) just was not possible. So the high point was when Nina and friends claimed some space in front of the DJ and broke into some great dancing. They were great, but I must admit to being unable to keep up. So, playing my old age card (honestly acquired I might add), we called it a night and left the marvelous Nina and her friends to close the place down.
*****
The final phase of the evening was unplanned, and fairly uneventful. Rather than just head for home, Sarah and I decided that a final drink was called for. We hoped for someplace quiet where we could chat and laugh and enjoy recalling a fun evening. Somehow that turned into a visit to Temptations. We just had one Gin and Tonic, which took on a beautiful blue glow under the at the bar. The music was still too loud for talking, so we did not hang around for more. But we decided that a return trip is definitely called for. Hopefully one that includes the free drinks that we heard were being poured for t-girls by the owner who is trying to win us back.
*****
Well, that is it for this month. I hope to see you all at Be All. If you find the time, please look me up.
*****
Hugs,Greer
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Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, May 2010

Hello dear readers! Happy May! Be All is almost here, are you ready? I am very excited since it gives me the chance to be femme and fun and flirtatious for a whole week! Oh boy!
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You may have noticed that I have devoted a goodly portion of my recent columns to what I will now call “The Tranization of Sarah” (pretty good huh, I just made that up). Now it is almost certain that there are additional tortures that I could force upon Sarah (the always gorgeous Jill suggested a tour of the body scanners at O’Hare), but by now, there really is not much left to put her through that would not also be new for me (except the charming visit to the DMV). Since you may be tired of hearing about Sarah and her exploits (or being exploited), I shall henceforth refrain from mentioning Sarah, even though Sarah is my very good friend, and a great deal of fun to spend time with. OK? No more Sarah.
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So last Friday, I arranged to go out with a girlfriend. Let me call her, I dunno, how about “S” (tee hee). Anyway, I had been off on vacation (no heel time for 10 days), and of course things piled up at work (yuch) while I was gone so the week was awful, plus I had to take a certification exam (MCSE #5 of 7 for you other t-nerds) on Friday. All in all, I figured I needed to party a bit. S and I decided that we should start off in somewhat modest attire so that we could go out for dinner without having someone call the fashion police, and later we would switch to more “frisky” looks.
Dinner was at TGI Fridays, and it seemed like every family in town had decided to take the kids out for dinner that night. There was a toddler in a high chair just across the aisle from us. He seemed to spend a lot of time staring at me, almost like he was trying to figure it out. “Dad, there is something about that lady . . . “ Taking my usual high road, I ignored everyone else in the room (only fair, since they were ignoring us too) and concentrated on making the evening fun for our server. She was obviously a bit nervous and uncertain at the beginning, but she got immediate style points for call us “ladies” in a friendly way. I broke the ice by ordering the fun Cosmopolitan that they serve over cotton candy. It is a bit sweeter than the usual Cosmo, but very tasty. By the time we paid our bill and departed, our server probably didn’t understand us any better than she did when we walked in, but she knew we were friendly and fun to be around!
Our next stop was a return to The Melting Pot. This time our intention was to sample the bar, and to say hello to Nina, the wonderful, delightful, gorgeous, ball-of-fire hostess that we met at dinner last month. It happened that Nina had just ended her shift, and she was able to sit with us at the bar, chat, and drink to happiness and being ourselves.
When Nina had to head for home, we decided it was time for us to switch from modest to frisky. In the semi-privacy of the car, I removed the almost-knee length skirt that I was wearing over an almost-thigh length dress. S switched from a below the knee number to her black leather miniskirt. Our destination? Hunters.
I know, I know. Their ID policy is blatantly discriminatory, and I have avoided the place for over a year. But S had never been to Hunters, and it is a part of the local t-culture. I did make one tactical error. When IDs were requested at the door, I didn’t think to show my drivers license. You know, the one with the photo of my evil twin. Instead, I proudly presented my state ID with my happy femme self grinning at the world. Of course that means I have no idea whether I would have been admited with the dreaded “photo and presentation don’t match” conundrum. Oh, S had no problem with her ID. I guess it helps to have long hair.
We encountered several other girls while we soaked up the Hunters ambiance. Erica Maurizio looked totally regal from her position at the corner of the bar. Roxy Rockefeller swept into the room with a group, but the music by that time was too loud for introductions. And that brings a question to mind. Why is it that club music never stops? Am I the only one that needs a break of some kind between dances? Another question that we considered, but were unable to really answer, is about the critical mass necessary for dancing to begin on the dance floor. As the number of people around the dance floor increases, spontaneous little dances begin to occur on the edges, and then at some undefined moment, the dance floor almost magically fills up. Of course we did not want to impact our study, so we waited until the floor was busy before we cut loose ourselves.
*****
The April T-party at Big Shot was great. There were quite a few members of the community on hand, but it was the Muggles that made the evening particularly memorable. I must admit that the first time S mentioned “Muggles”, I had a totally uncomprehending (read stupid) expression on my face. My problem is that I am not a follower of Harry Potter. So, for those as ignorant as I was, a Muggle in the Harry Potter world is a person without magical abilities. An ordinary person who is not a wizard or a witch. And now, in our world, a Muggle is a person without our magical gifts. The poor dears!
It happened that we were sharing Big Shot with a group of 15 (or so) ladies who were celebrating birthdays. We found out later that this group was made up of friends who had bonded over the years as they all raised families, and they get together to celebrate their birthdays and have fun. I regret that I am uncertain about the names of this month’s birthday girls, but I think it was Lisa and Fran. Anyway, Lisa in particular was making the rounds of Big Shot and she had been chatting with some of our group, asking questions and getting acquainted. We noticed that most of their group was remaining bunched together (as was our group actually). So, S and Gail and I decided to take our party to them. We split up and sat down amongst the group and made our individual contributions to Muggle Outreach. Great fun, really very touching, and a few more friends for the community.
Later, I was approached by a very attractive lady. Her name was Helen, and she said that it was her husband’s birthday, and would I be willing to let her take a picture of me with her husband. Honey, I am a t-girl. I LOVE to have my picture taken! She introduced me to Jerry, the birthday boy who turned 44 that day. He was a very nice man who seemed a bit confused about the insertion of this t-person into the romantic birthday evening with his lovely wife, but he was most gracious. I posed with Larry, and even gave him a peck on the cheek. Alas, the lighting was insufficient for Helen’s cell phone camera, so I enlisted the services of S and her enhanced megapixel wonder. S quickly turned her camera over to Helen and joined me to become a pair of bookends around the birthday boy. We draped ourselves over him on each side, and I am certain Larry will have a lot of explaining to do if those photos come into the hands of his friends.
Photos completed, S and I sat down at the table with Helen and Larry with the intention of collecting an email address for sending of the photos. But then we failed to leave. Helen asked some of the Muggle questions, but then she ended up giving me some hair and makeup suggestions. While Larry and S were chatting, she told him that they would be most welcome to join us for next month’s T-party, but that he would be required to dress properly. It turned out that he does enjoy costumes at Halloween, but he has not tried femme attire. At least not yet!
Eventually Helen and Larry had to go home to collect their 8-month old daughter from her Grandmother. Hugs exchanged all around. More friends for the community.
Before the chairs were even cold, a lively and adorable lassie swooped in and introduced herself as Cate. She quickly explained that her partner Ally is transgendered. “She is a man trapped in a woman’s body. She sees herself as male, but she doesn’t want to change anything.” Only 30 seconds into the conversation and my proper pronoun detector was beeping furiously. I tried to explain my own feelings about desiring acceptance as I present myself, and I could not begin to understand the Ally that Cate was describing. A bit later I was able to talk to Ally about my confusion. As I suspected, his desire was to present as male, and I was grateful that order had returned to the universe. Like Cate, he was a totally delightful person who had a preference for being male, but was not too hung up about how he was perceived or addressed. A very good attitude indeed!
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So there you have it. Another column completed, and having spent a few minutes reading it, you are undoubtedly wondering how you can get back those wasted minutes. Now let me finish up with a couple of plugs.
First: Be sure to get registered for Be All! Come for the whole week! If you can’t do that, come for a few days. If you can’t do that, come for a day or an evening.
Second: In case you are not aware, Temptations is back. Not only that, they are looking for us. They are talking about designating a couple of nights as t-nights at Temptations. Next Tuesday, April 27, stop in and have dinner and say hello at the CGS social, then head over to Temptations and join the t-group. I understand (unoffically) that the owner just might be buying drinks for the girls that show up.
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One more thought to end my words for this month (and to use up my allotted word count). I really do have a wonderful time interacting with people (Muggles if you will) when we are out and about. I am not in a place where I feel I can be involved in the important legislative campaigns and working to support the effort to ensure rights for all members of the community. But perhaps this is my small way of trying to bring about change, one person at a time. Besides, it is fun! Give it a try, you might like it!
Hugs,Greer
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Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.