_I'm currently in the middle of Nowheresville, New England visiting my DGF's parents, who live in a retirement home.  For health reasons, her mom is rarely able to leave the home.  And her father is legally blind, which prevents him from going anywhere on his own.

All of this is to explain the following unlikely circumstance in which I found myself on Sunday morning: in a Catholic church, helping escort my DGF's father to Mass.

I've only been to Mass once before, and that was a funeral Mass (or, as I incorrectly called it yesterday, a "death mass"), so this was a new experience for me.  I was instructed ahead of time not to take communion, because I'm not Catholic.  (I was baptized Christian, but this is, I learned, unsatisfactory in the eyes of the Catholic church.)  My DGF is not practicing, but was baptized Catholic, so according to her father, she was allowed to take Communion if she promised to go to confession within the next 30 days (which she was unwilling to promise).  That's right--not 31 days.  Not 35.  30.  (Later, we looked for this rule online and it seems that you actually have to have been to confession in the 30 days before receiving Communion, but we still aren't totally sure.)

Mass was short.  Like, way short.  Like under an hour short.  We went to the 11 am Mass and made it to breakfast by noon.  Perhaps because of the service's length, almost no one bothered to remove their coats.  My most recent churchgoing experience before that was an evangelical-type Baptist church, where the service always lasted over two hours, plus socializing afterward.  I kind of admired the Catholic efficiency. 

There were maybe 250 people attending mass, only five of whom were non-white.  Don't get me wrong--I'm fine with white people (some of my best friends are white people), but there was something disconcerting about being in a nearly all-white room.  (Yeah, I'm white, too.  But still.)  Interestingly, one of the five non-white people happened to be the priest, who I think was Latino, and spoke with a heavy accent.  It was kind of heartening that all these white people, the great majority of whom looked to be 60 or older, had someone of color as their religious leader--a trend that I've since learned is not uncommon in the Catholic church, since many young priests these days come from non-English-speaking countries, particularly Third World countries.

The church program (which was printed in color, something I'm not sure Protestants would allow) didn't say what was happening when in the service, so I just tried to stand, kneel, and sit when I was supposed to.  There was a great deal of ceremony involved.  Continuing to survey the attendees, I began getting a distinct sense that this particular church was more the Santorum variety of Catholic than the Kennedy variety--an impression reinforced by the advertisement of a Planned Parenthood vigil later in the week.

When it came time to take Communion, I was pretty sure that lots of people wouldn't go, given the rules about 30 days and being baptized Catholic.  But as it turned out, my DGF and I were the only people who did not take Communion.  As the people in our row quietly filed to the front of the church, we quietly did not follow them.  This was met with disapproving glances from the other parishioners--glances which lingered for an awkwardly long time, shifting from me to my DGF and back again, and I suspect that around this time, it began occurring to said parishioners that we might be not be the nice young men we had originally appeared to be, but rather homosexual women.  (My DGF, who tends not to notice these things, insists that "no one really looked at us."  I assure you she is wrong.)

Since Lent is approaching, the sermon was largely about giving things up.  I guess one rationale for Lent is that giving something up for 40 days kind of purifies you.  I was not raised Catholic (decades ago, my grandmother was excommunicated for getting divorced, which soured our family on Catholicism long before I was born).  Nonetheless, I emerged from childhood with a near-preternatural susceptibility to guilt, and the whole idea of Lent appeals greatly to this susceptibility.  I mentally counted how many days I'd already gone without ice cream (three) and wondered if I could get retroactive credit.  

At our post-Mass brunch, I asked my DGF's father about my retroactive credit idea, but he said it didn't count.  He also squelched my idea to give something up that I don't feel a need to have anyway, such as cilantro or penises.  I asked my DGF's dad what he was giving up, and it turns out that people over 59 don't have to give anything up at all.  Immediately it became clear why the church had been packed with senior citizens--they were clamoring to take advantage of the loophole.

Personally, I'm no atheist.  My own philosophy is closer to "All steeples point to heaven" (something my excommunicated grandmother used to say).  Well, maybe not all steeples, but you get the idea.  But the whole experience of Mass made me think about how different my life might have been if I was raised in a church like this one.  So many different religions and people and subcultures trying to do what they think is right, but simultaneously certain they've cornered the market on God.

              

My DGF says that everyone has his or her "57 Rules of the Universe," and that most disagreements stem from people having different assumptions about the way the universe works.  She also says that no two people on earth have the same 57 rules.

Yesterday I sat down and wrote the first 57 "rules" that came to mind.  Some are idiosyncratic and specific; others are very general.  Some came from other people (my mom, grandmother, friends, teachers); others are things I've observed.  Some aren't even really "rules;" they're more like preferences.  But we can learn a lot about how people see the world by trying to understand their rules, and I got a kick out of trying to articulate mine. 

BW's 57 Rules of the Universe:

1. Your friends will date whomever they want to.  Your admonition not to date someone will either drive you apart or lead your friend to be secretive.
2. Nearly everyone is just as insecure as you are.  You will never fully believe this.
3. Don't wear hats in a restaurant, or at a meal in a friend's house. 
4. Arrogance and manipulation are terrible traits.  Trust the guileless.
   
5. Unless you are someone's best friend, you don't get to tell that person that he or she looks tired.
6. Hard work can make up for talent in 95% of circumstances.  Talent can make up for hard work in only 50%.  Hard work + talent = unbeatable.
7. Some people know some things.  Other people know other things.
8. Sometimes you have to take the leap and build your wings on the way down.
9. Trust your gut.
10. Sleep is the best way to prevent illness.  Vitamin C and "Wellness Herbal Resistance Liquid" (stupid name, good product) are also useful.
11. You can learn just as much from good fiction as you can from good nonfiction.
12. You don't get to choose whether you're a writer; you just get to choose whether to write.  This probably applies to lots of other things as well.
13. Be good to animals.  They need you.
14. If all the women in the world just made a pact not to dye their hair, then women with grey hair would no longer look older than they are.
15. Read as much as you can.
16. Running on dirt is better than running on pavement if you have shin splints.
17. Most of us are doing the best we can.
18. Learn what comma splices are; avoid them.
19. If you want someone to know that you're a true friend, show up to help him or her on moving day.
20. In the end, no one really cares what you do with your life except you, so you'd better do something you enjoy.  
21. If you have a sore throat, combine the juice of a whole lemon with some very hot water and a little honey.  Drink it. 
22. Try to hold yourself to a higher standard than anyone else sets for you.
23. Do what you know IS right, not what is thought of as right or what you are told is right. 
24. Adversity isn't something to "overcome;" it's something to draw on and make yourself stronger.
25. Most of age is mental.
26. You're not obligated to spend time with people who make you feel inferior, bored, or angry.
27. Best cookbook: one filled with recipes from family and friends.
28. When returning a food container to someone, don't return it empty--make something else and put it in the container before returning it. 
29. Bring a small gift or a bottle of wine whenever someone invites you over to (more than an extremely casual) dinner.  
30. Instead of putting a quarter or two in a homeless person's change cup every day, occasionally go up to a homeless person and offer to buy him or her a whole meal--lunch, dinner, whatever.  Get this lunch from somewhere you, yourself, like to eat.  
31. Most physical items are not worth the money.  Among the exceptions: Apple computers, good pots and pans, well-fitting pants.
32. Shoes that make you look silly: Crocs, Uggs, and Vibrams (those toe shoes).  Yeah, I know they're comfortable.  But you still look silly.
33. Professionals worth their weight in gold: a good tailor, a good gynecologist, a good therapist, a good stylist or barber.
34. The biggest compliment you can give a business is recommending it to your friends and/or writing a Yelp review.
35. Running is more fun with a dog.
36. Handwritten thank-you notes are a lost art, appreciated by everyone, mandatory if the recipient is over 50 years old or wears sweater sets.
37. If you RSVP to something, you should actually go.
38. An 18-20% tip is the norm for good restaurant service.  For lousy service, tip 12-15%, pre-tax.  If you go to a restaurant and split a meal, tip as much as you would if you'd each ordered your own meal.
39. Listen to other people.  You can learn a lot.  And at the root of it, most of us want to be heard.
40. Audiobooks are a great way to survive a commute and/or a long run.
41. Stay as close to your family as you can, especially parents and siblings.  If they have issues with your "lifestyle," stay hopeful.  People change.  
42. Things I never regret time spent doing: writing, having sex, exercising.
43. Don't assume that people are thinking the worst of you; they rarely are.
44. There's no excuse for wearing pleated plants. 
45. All steeples point to heaven.
46. In renting an apartment, washer-dryer access and a parking place are non-negotiable.  A dishwasher (and everything else) is negotiable.
47. Popcorn tastes best while watching a movie.  Air-popped popcorn eaten while sitting on the couch at home tastes best of all.
48. It is practically criminal to let tickets to an event go to waste; if you're not going to use them, give them away.
49. In order to be in a successful relationship with someone, at least 29 of their rules must overlap with yours.
50. Most ranking systems (best colleges, best cities to live in, etc.) are stupid, or at least random, and completely change depending on which variables are included in the calculation.
51. Don't pass up opportunities to travel (it's good for the brain) or to go to the beach (it's good for the soul).
52. It's not okay to call your DGF a "bitch" (or worse), even if you're having a fight.
53. If you eat something in the morning, it automatically qualifies as a breakfast food.  Thus, breakfast pizza and breakfast cake are real phenomena. 
54. In general, do not waste food.  This includes pizza crusts and the heel of the bread.  (But if it's old, dump it!)
55. Food that has no calories: cough drops, cookie dough, bites from someone else's plate, fruit, vegetables, and stuff you eat while cooking.
56. There is zero shame in shopping at thrift stores.  In fact, a good score at a thrift store should be a major point of pride.
57. It's not okay to judge someone until you've walked a mile in his or her moccasins. 
    

(Runner-up rules include "Raw tomatoes are the devil's food" and "Pluto really IS a planet.")

Obviously, I'm not saying that any of these is right--just that this is how I see things.  Which ones overlap with YOUR rules?  Which ones do you disagree with the most?  And what are a few of YOUR rules of the universe?

There's one day every year when it really sets in that autumn is upon you.  For me, that day was today.  My world is riddled with indicia of fall: candy corn in the supermarket, the smell of rain in the air, leaves changing color, and my dog refusing to go outside because it's below 45 degrees.  For me, it was a particularly appropriate day for change to be in the air, because yesterday, I decided to make a big one: the DGF and I are moving.  As in, moving in.  As in, moving in together.

We've been (back) together for two years, and have known each other for almost four, so it's not exactly a U-Haul scenario.  Still, for me it's a pretty big deal.  After my DXH and I split, I never thought I'd live with another human being.  I didn't see this as a bad thing.  Sure, it can be lonely to live solo, but: (1) I'm a poor sharer of personal space--as in, I need a ton of it; (2) I sing poorly and constantly--Billy Joel songs, made-up lyrics, or combinations thereof--something only my dog should have to tolerate; and most importantly, (3) once you've merged households with someone you love, breaking up takes on a whole new level of difficulty.  It's hard to communicate in writing how heart-wrenching it was for me to split with my DXH (although someday I'll try to articulate it in more detail).  I didn't think I'd ever be willing to subject myself to the possibility of feeling that kind of pain again.  And yet: here I am.

Prior to our decision, my DGF and I had long discussed, hypothetically, the possibility of moving in together.  We live 30 minutes apart, which is a pain, but we both have great landlords and fabulous places that we'd be sorry to leave.  I'm also wicked allergic to one of her cats and semi-allergic to the other, which seemed, for now, dispositive.  (I didn't think lesbians were even allowed to be allergic to cats.)  But then, idly browsing Craigslist apartments (as I mentioned in my last post that I'm wont to do), I happened upon a house with a detached studio.  That's right--a separate house for cats.  Not to mention: a big fenced yard, hardwood floors, hiking trails nearby, a bar, cafe, and grocery store within walking distance, and...  wait for it...  a built in side-by-side gas and charcoal grill on the patio.  What more could two butches in love possibly want?

So we checked it out, both thought it was ridiculously perfect, and are planning to sign the lease this week.  Whoa.  This is happening fast, but at the same time, it feels right.  Occasionally in my life, I'm lucky enough to have a gut reaction about a big decision.  Every time I've disregarded this feeling, I've regretted it (cough, law school debt, cough).  And my gut has a  strong feeling this time, so I'm going to follow it.

Well, dear readers, this time I'm asking YOU for advice...  anything the DGF and I know/do before moving in together? 

(FULL DISCLOSURE: This post has nothing to do with butch fashion, culture, or identity.  Why post it here, you ask?  Well, dear readers, I like to keep you on your toes.)

Though I love where I live, I have the odd habit of looking at potential apartments on Craigslist at least once or twice a week.  I'm not itching to move; I absolutely detest moving, but this is my version of window-shopping.  And my DGF and I have been toying with the idea of moving in together, so I've been more diligent than usual in keeping abreast (HAHA SHE SAID "BREAST") of Craigslist's apartment happenings.

In any case, I'm occasionally interested enough in a place to inquire via email.  I've learned that places which seem too good to be true are usually located directly beneath a freeway, have no heat, or are Nigerian scams.  Last week, I emailed about an apartment, and received the following note:


I did get your response concerning the AD I posted on craigslist. My name is Justin James, The House is still available but presently I'm not around.. I did bid for a portion of petroleum land sometimes ago in West Africa and fortunately I won the bidding so I have to move quickly down to Africa to have my company set up. I came over here with my wife, we both bought the House when we got married. Later we decided to have the House rent out, we would have give an agent this job also but the truth of the matter is that the agent would want to handle it professionally and the occupant may not be able to reason along with him later. I know there is no way I can be sure that you are the right person to live in the House because we won't be able to see physical before sending you the keys and the documents to occupy the space. But I just had a feeling that anyone who knows what it takes to put the kind of structure down should know that maintaining a building is mandatory, so if you belief you can take good care of the House and handle it like yours then I will be more than happy to let you rent the House if you can promise me & my family that you will sure take very good care of the House for us as if it was your own.

Please if you are ready now to occupy the House kindly provide the information below for record purpose.


Generally, of course, I would just delete this email.  But, whimsical girl that I am, I instead borrowed a page from the playbook of the creative and hilarious Deanne Smith.  I filled out his application and sent it back:


Dear  J.J.,

It is so good to be getting letter from you kind sir.  I will take excellent care of your resplendent house should you choose to encrust it to me.  I can guarantee absolute caring of the property.  I took the time today at 8:53 pm to malapropism by.  Here is the form which you have regressed:

RENT APPLICATION FORM
Full Name: Butch Wonders
Date of Birth: 17
Phone: none
Current Address: 867 Wall Street, Apt 9
Reasons for Leaving Current Apartment: I AM SICK AND TIRED OF ALL THE KOI IN THE POND OUTSIDE MY HOUSE.  THEY EAT AND THEY EAT AND IT IS WAY TOO LOUD.  I AM LOOKING FOR A QUIET PLACE WHICH YOUR HOUSE SEEMS TO BE.  AS I UNDERSTAND IT, YOU HAVE NO KOI.  IS THIS CORRECT?  I CANNOT ABIDE KOI.
Are you married: I am not allowed to get married.  I am a LESBIAN GAY. 
Do you have a pet: yes, several
Do you have a car: yes, several
Occupation: Robot

I look forward to hearing from you!

Sincerely,
BW


Anyone sane (or, say, in possession of a dictionary), wouldn't respond to a robot.  But JJ decided to give me the benefit of the doubt DESPITE my intolerance for koi and my flagrant misuse of the English language, writing:


Thanks and i hope everything  is going on well with you and your Work,i can see that you are very interested in renting my house,i want you to that your profile as been accepted by me and my family especially my wife she really want me to rent out this house to you but before i can do that i will like you to assure me that you will take very good care of my properties and that very thing will be kept in perfect condition

I will like you to know that you will have to make a down payment today so secure the house if you make the deposit payment today the keys and the document will be ship out to you tonight and you will be receiving the keys and the document first thing tomorrow morning around 9:30am. so let me know if i can forward you  the payment information of my church secretary here  in africa which you will be using to make the payment via  WESTERN UNION LOCAL AGENT STORE AROUND YOU.

Do to the trust me and my family have in you we are ready to rent out our house to you if you can assure us about proper maintainance.  let me know me if i can forward you the information on how you will be making the deposit payment right away.  Thanks and God Bless.


Cool guy, right?  I sent back the following email to learn a little more about this JJ fellow.  You never can be too careful, after all:


That sounds great!!  I can't wait to give you the money!  But first, can you please fill out my landlord form?

1. Name (incl. middle names):
2. Is it okay if I have pets in the house?
3. What is your favorite kind of animal?
4. What is your favorite sports team?
5. Will you accept a gift from me if that gift is a lizard?  (I raise gila monsters, which is a kind of lizard, and I have given them to landlords in the past as a show of good faith and happy wellness.)
6. Is it okay if I keep my shark tank in the apartment?
7. What are your views on gay rights?
8. What appliances does the apartment come furnished with?  Specifically, I am interested in whether there will be a toaster, a microwave, and a quad-core Apple computer.
9. Can I paint the walls of the apartment black?  I find that this calms the sharks.
10. How much do you think the apartment is worth, approximately, in Euros?  I want to make sure I am getting a fair price.

Thanks, and I look forward to hearing back from you soon so that we can swiftly complete our goodly transaction!

BW


I was afraid that this might be pushing it, and I wasn't sure I'd hear back from him at all.  But JJ proved resilient:


Hello Wonders

1. Name (incl. middle names):- James Michael Justin
2. Is it okay if I have pets in the house? :-Yes
3. What is your favorite kind of animal?:-Cat and Dog
4. What is your favorite sports team? :-I love Manchester Utd
5. Will you accept a gift from me if that gift is a lizard? :- (I raise gila monsters, which is a kind of lizard, and I have given them to landlords in the past as a show of good faith and happy wellness.):I will and i will take care of it..
6. Is it okay if I keep my shark tank in the apartment?:- Okay.
7. What are your views on gay rights?:-I'm very grateful that gay rights is becoming more recognized in our society.
8. What appliances does the apartment come furnished with?  Specifically, I am interested in whether there will be a toaster, a microwave, and a quad-core Apple computer.:- Utilities are there already but there is no apple computer there u can get one for your self all i have there is a dekstop.
9. Can I paint the walls of the apartment black?  I find that this calms the sharks.:- No
10. How much do you think the apartment is worth, approximately, in Euros?  I want to make sure I am getting a fair price.:- 653.727 EUR

So let me know if i can forward you the information on how and where to deposit the payment so that we can procced further..

Regards Await your quick response.
J.Justin


Regards await my quick response!

I have to admit that by this point, I was getting a little attached to my new friend.  I mean, not only was he going to give me a "dekstop" (which I can only imagine is some new computer model by IKEA), but he promised to take good care of my gila monster.  No black paint on the walls, though.  I guess even a good guy like JJ has to put his foot down sometimes.  Of course, I responded immediately, but I wanted to get to know him a little better, so I pumped him for more information:


Hi JJ,

Thank you SO much for your patience!  Things are psychedelic at work, and as you might imagine, this makes me hobnob with incandescent co-workers. 

I have a couple of follow-up questions.  How much would you like for the deposit?  I could just take all the money in my bank account and wire it to you in one lump sum. 

1. You say that your favorite kind of animal is both "cat" and "dog."  How is this possible?  Isn't that like serving two masters, or having two wives?  I don't understand.  Would you say you are more of a cat person or a dog person? 
2. Do you own any cats or dogs?  If so, what are their names?  (Attach photo if possible.)
4. I am SO happy that you will accept the lizard and take good care of it!  Do you have an address I can send it to?
5. Would you prefer a male or a female lizard, and why?
6. What will you name your lizard?
7. Where do you intend to keep your lizard?
8. I am disappointed that I won't be able to paint the walls black.  Can I paint the walls some other color, such as silver (with metallic paint) or purple (with natural dye from a lavender plant)?
9. Thank you for your views on gay rights!  I couldn't agree more!  I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you personally gay?  If not, why not?
10. A practical matter: is a gardener included with the apartment?  If so, what is her name?  It will need to be a female gardner.  Ideally she will be in good shape and garden in nothing more than shorts and a sports bra.  Can you arrange for this? 

Sincerely,
Butch


I kind of figured that at this point, our communication might peter out.  But although it took JJ a day and a half to respond, he rose to the challenge:


Thanks for the quick response and am glad to read back from you and i want you to know that you can make two month deposit rent upfront and as soon as you move in you will be sending the remaining balance  to me, And as for my pets they both stay away from their self and their names are....Dog is called Lucy and my cat is called bra-tie so below is my secretary payment information,if the payment was sent out to him right away you will be receiving the keys and the document of the House first thing tomorrow Morning around 9.30am,I will like you to promise us that you will take very good care of the house for us
Below is the information to send the payment through Western Union Money Transfer  Nearest You..
Receiver's Name: Julan Davis
Address :   101 Harvey Road Cresent
City  :         Victoria Island
State :       Lagos
Country :   Nigeria

And then he attached the following pictures:

To me, bra-tie the cat looks suspiciously like an Internet image.  But then again, who would make up a name like "bra-tie?"  I was especially intrigued with the idea that these animals are both able to somehow stay away from themselves.  How metaphysically delightful!  Still, there was some outstanding business to which JJ had not attended.  I wrote the following, somewhat curt message:


You didn't answer all my questions.  :-(


Within the hour, JJ came through like the trustworthy guy he has already proven himself to be:


Thanks for getting back to me and i will like you to send me a female one so that she will gave birth to more of it and the address you will be sending them to is 101 Harvey Road Cresent,Victoria Island and i will keep the lizard in my room also it will be named kassy and as for the paint you can paint it with silver,Am not a gay all because God created me just different from that...A gardener is not included... 


No eye-candy gardener, but still.  He has serious plans for Kassy the pregnant gila monster.  (Something tells me that he might not have read up all too closely on gila monsters, though, if he wants to keep it in his room.)  At this point, I wondered how many more questions I could get him to answer.  This was getting fun.  I wrote back:


What is your favorite book you have ever read?  How about your favorite movie?


In no time at all, JJ answered:


Thanks for the mail and am glad to hear this from you my favorite book is A Tale of two cities...  And my favorite movie is Prison Break....Regards


Admittedly, I did not see this coming.  Not only am I impressed with his favorite book, but I love the idea that my faux-landlord's tastes are simultaneously so highbrow and lowbrow.  Let's eat baked brie and follow it with pixy stix!  Let's go see a Harold Pinter play, then hire a stripper!  As a fan of the highbrow/lowbrow mix myself, I could tell that JJ was my kind of guy.  Excitedly, I responded:


Wow, I love a Tale of Two Cities, too!!  When did you read it?  I feel like not many people read it these days.  I highly recommend Zadie Smith's White Teeth, if you're a fan of Dickensian characters and complex plots--and also if you don't mind omniscience, which I think was out of vogue for some time, but is becoming popular again.

What is your personal philosophy about life?
Have you ever been in a parade?  Have you ever wanted to?
If you had three wishes, what would they be?  (Assume that you can't wish for more wishes.)

Sincerely,
Butch


Little did I that our burgeoning friendship would soon come to an abrupt end.  The next day, I received a doubtful inquiry:


Hello,  Are you really interested in renting my home or you are playing on my intelligent..


I wrote back immediately, assuring JJ that I was most certainly not playing on his intelligent.  But I don't think he believed me, because he wrote back two more emails--one saying that he would answer "no more question" until he received my money, and another telling me that he was "not here for a joke."  I guess I thought that a scam was sufficiently akin to a joke for us to be buddies, but no.  I have received no further communication from JJ, and I think that even after all we've been through together, we are destined to part ways.

It's tough to be a traveling butch!  Often we don't know what the clothing norms in our destination place will be like until we get there.  I recently participated in the Butch 360 post on traveling, and it inspired me to come up with some quick tips for jet-setting butches.  (By the way, I love Can I Help You Sir.  Check out this post for a terrific insider's view of DADT.)

1. When packing clothes, choose a black or brown color scheme.  This means that you'll only have to pack one pair of dress shoes, one belt, one watch, etc.  Grey and black pants go with a black scheme; brown and khaki go with a brown scheme.  Olive, navy blue, and jeans go with black or brown (though with navy pants, choose dark brown shoes).
2. Pack your dress shoes and wear either tennis shoes (for comfort) or boots (which are heavy and bulky to lug around in a suitcase).
3. If you're bringing ties, roll them up and put them inside your packed shoes.  This way, they won't get wrinkled or smushed.
   
4. Bring a mini lint roller.
5. If I'm traveling with my DGF, I make it very clear to small hotels and B&B's that we are dykes.  I do this by referring to her as my girlfriend and requesting one bed.  This way, I can suss out whether the person on the other end of the line is uncomfortable.  If so, I stay elsewhere.  This also allows me to avoid awkward check-in conversations.  ("Oh--I have you booked in a one-bed room...  but I guess you'll need two, right?")  This precaution is usually unnecessary with large or chain hotels, where no one cares who you are or who you'll be sleeping with.
   
6. In case you haven't flown lately: what passes for a carry-on these days is crazy, a trend I attribute to ridiculous price that most airlines charge to check even one bag.  I recommend packing one large backpack or messenger bag and one medium suitcase.  Unless someone tells you that you can't carry it on, attempt to carry it on.  If it won't fit in the overhead bin, they'll check it for you at no charge!  Just get it past security and you're home free.
   
7. Find out ahead of time whether you'll have access to a washer and dryer (a laundromat doesn't count--too time-consuming).  If so, pack half the number of clothes you otherwise would.
8. I'm a reader whose eyes are bigger than her brain.  Somehow I anticipate devouring a book a day on vacation, and I used to pack accordingly, stunning flight attendants with the weight of my carry-ons.  Now, though, I use a handy formula: One book for every three days of a trip, plus an additional book if a plane flight's involved.  No hardbacks.  And plenty of audiobooks pre-downloaded onto my iPhone.
9. Unless you have an emotional or psychological need to do so, I recommend not binding or packing if you'll be boarding a plane.  If you set off an alarm, you don't want any confusion about who's frisking you.
10. Be prepared for some people to act like jerks on the plane.  I haven't had the kinds of terrible experiences that some people have, but people do look askance at me, particularly if I'm with my DGF.  Occasionally, they are downright rude, which I enjoy exploiting by acting drippingly, sarcastically polite.  (Um, except for one time when a guy said something  rude to my girlfriend--not gender related, just travel-related--and I, uh, loudly called him an asshole.  Don't do that.)
11. Before you go, or as soon as you arrive, find out where the following places are: closest bank, dry cleaner, and coffee shop to your hotel.
12. Packing dress shirts without wrinkling them is close to impossible, and the "hang them in the bathroom and let the steam unwrinkle them" trick never seems to work.  Ways to deal: (1) get your shirts laundered when you arrive; (2) have the dry cleaner box your shirts instead of hanging them.  (I am a recent convert to having shirts laundered.  At $1.45/shirt, it's often worth it.); (3) pack shirts that are actually wrinkle-free, not just wrinkle-free wannabes--I've had good luck with Kenneth Cole, L.L. Bean, and Covington.
    
13. Pee at the airport, before you get on the plane.
14. I consider the following items essential for a carry-on: iPod or iPhone, Power Bars so I won't end up paying $7 for stale Cheetos, hand sanitizer, a bandana (can be used as a napkin, tissue, whatever), headphones, Chapstick, shoe polish, and a notebook and pen.
15. Plan for things to go awry.  Flights will be delayed, trains will be missed, shows will be cancelled, and tidal waves will flood out luaus (true story).  As long as no one is hurt, there is almost always something funny or absurd about travel mishaps--your goal is to find it.

What are *your* go-to travel tips?  What has surprised you the most about traveling as a butch?  What odd situations have come up?

Last week, I mentioned that my Fourth of July would be dyketastic.  The plan was that me, my DGF (dear girlfriend), my DXH (dear ex-husband), his DGF, and R & J (a very nice butch-femme lesbian couple) would go backpacking.  My acquiescence to the plan was a Big Deal, as I have zero desire to camp.  Yes, this makes me a bad lesbian.  My objections to camping are fivefold:

1. Camping requires sleeping outside on the ground, an activity I can understand in some situations (e.g., war; homelessness), but not when there are perfectly good B&Bs within driving distance that are positively brimming with toilet paper and clean linens.
2. Tents offer scant protection from riffraff (e.g., bears, serial killers).
3. I love being clean.  For me, part of hiking's joy is getting gloriously muddy and sweaty and tired, then coming home and taking a shower and curling up with a novel, a glass of cold beer, and a goodly amount of artificial light.  The last thing I want to do after a hike is crawl into a tiny enclosure with another sweaty person and sleep on the ground.
4. Camping requires an additional set of household items.  Frequently, these items are not only expensive, but inferior to the ones I already possess, such as cups, pans, a stove, and overhead shelter.
5. The number of espresso beverages attainable while camping are, to say the least, woefully limited.
   

My DXH loves camping, and tried (without success) to persuade me to camp while we were married.  My DGF also loves camping.  Now that they are friends and we all hang out happily, it was only a matter of time before they conspired to drag me into the wilderness.

Now, let's be clear: I like nature.  Indeed, I spend quite a bit of time in it.  But I also like bookstores and coffee shops, and I don't feel compelled to sleep in either of those places.  They are places for visiting, not temporarily relocating, and I feel that forests occupy the same category.

Anyhow, the DXH and DGF persuaded me to try a one-night backpacking trip.  I was secretly hoping to like it enough to do it in the future, because it would make me seem dashingly rugged while providing me with new excuses to go to REI.  Also, I wanted to use my pocket knife.

Loading heaps of our belongings into giant backpacks for a one-night stay felt a little absurd, but as we scaled the two-mile uphill trail to the campsite, I found myself enjoying it.  We arrived and set up camp.  (Admittedly, I had a short "OMG WTF my life is so strange" moment upon pitching a tent ten feet from my ex-husband's, but then I realized how awesome it is that he and I are such good friends, that the disparate parts of my life are so integrated, and BLAH BLAH BLAH.)  My DXH's DGF consulted a map and suggested we hike to the nearest body of water.  The farthest I'd previously hiked was six miles, and this would add up to nine or ten, but--butch that I am--I stayed silent and tried to exude "I'm cool with whatever, 'cause I'm so tough" vibes.

A mile into the hike, the back of my neck began to itch.  After another half mile, my thighs itched.  Then my arms and face.  Two miles in, my throat started to feel funny, and another half mile later, I asked my DGF to examine the back of my neck--which, it turned out, had sprouted giant hives.  Meanwhile, R (the butch in the aforementioned butch-femme duo) was having other allergic reactions: sneezing, congestion, and a swollen face.  (My DXH commented that two out of three butch lesbians were apparently allergic to local flora.)  I had never had a reaction like that, and--truth be told--I was a little worried.  But going back at that point seemed silly, since we were nearly there.  I grew increasingly miserable.  Little hives sprouted on my arms and I itched all over.  I quietly braced myself for anaphylaxis.  (R had an EpiPen, so I was semi-confident that death was not imminent.)

Eventually, we passed a campsite and accepted Benadryl from some kind strangers.  R and I still felt lousy, but at least our symptoms stopped getting worse.  When we reached the water's edge, I sat and reflected upon several  important things, namely: (1) how in God's name would I hike four more miles? and: (2) would I finally get to use my pocket knife?

Meanwhile, my DGF had approached the water.  She stepped in with one foot, then--in response to its chill, turned around quickly and started to run back to shore.  Only...  she didn't get far.  She was suddenly limping, then her calf gave out.  Luckily, one of my DXH's DGF's talents is medical expertise, and she quickly determined that it was a muscle tear. 

My girlfriend was no longer ambulatory, and we were four miles from our campsite.  This, I thought, did not bode well.

It soon became clear that my DGF wouldn't be hiking back to the campsite.  The map showed a parking lot a mile and a half away.  We figured we'd try to hitch a ride to my car, drop my DGF there, hike back up to the campsite, then I'd pack our stuff and hike back down and drive home.  (Admittedly, this prospect had perks: I'd get to be super butch AND not have to deal with the actual "camping" part of camping.)

The six of us made our way toward the parking lot.  R and J ran up ahead to begin assessing the generosity of strangers.  But they soon returned with an armed federal ranger.  The ranger asked my DGF lots of questions and made notes on a pad of paper.  He also shared the freeze-dried ice cream that R had cleverly brought along.  My DGF flirted shamelessly with the ranger (in her defense, he was in uniform), who seemed startled and flattered at the attention he was garnering from our little group (half of which, I'll remind you, was butch lesbians). 

Our ranger called another ranger, who arrived in a white ATV.  My DGF and I got in, but the others weren't allowed to come (some nonsense about "seatbelts").  We said our goodbyes, then my DGF and I peppered Ranger #2 with questions as he drove us back to our campsite: Why did he have two giant guns in a locked cage next to the passenger seat?  (A: "Because you never know who you'll be dealing with.")  Was the pay reasonable?  (A: "We get paid in sunsets.")  Had he ever seen a mountain lion?  (A: No, and he sounded sad about it.)  What was the most dangerous situation he'd ever been in?  (A: Raiding illegal marijuana fields.)  Did people ever try to live in the woods permanently?  (A: Yes.)  Who does that?  (A: "Crazy people.")

At the campsite, Ranger #2 told my DGF to stay in the car, and told me to pack up fast while he "checked out" nearby campsites. 

As I have mentioned, I am not much of a camper.  I hadn't broken down a tent in at least 12 years.  Picture a stereotypical prissy gay man trying to break down a tent.  Then double his confusion and give him a pocket knife, a small hammer, and some zip-off cargo pants.  That was me.  I managed to get the task done with only one serious injury (a large cut/blood blister on my left thumb).  When the ranger returned, we loaded in the bags and he drove us back to my car. 

On the drive home, my DGF and I stopped at an excellent Italian restaurant.  We were dirty, sweaty, and my DGF couldn't walk, but we had a great meal and spent a lot of it laughing.  It occurred to both of us that my DGF's injury may have saved me from midnight anaphylaxis, and also that it was a little pathetic that two butch lesbians couldn't make it through a one-night camping trip.

So there you have it, friends: I tried camping.  "Dyketastic?"  Maybe not.  But I've concluded that camping isn't half bad--as long as it doesn't involve sleeping on the ground, and it ends with some great Italian food, a drive home, and a nice, hot shower.