So I mentioned that I'd like to charge various devices using solar power. Here's how that went.

First, the SAE-to-USB widget didn't work. Either there wasn't enough voltage or current coming out of the 10W solar panel to make it think it was plugged into something – it was, after all, intended for a motorcycle – or it was just plain defective.

I have an inverter, i.e. something that turns DC into AC. What if I tried that, and never mind the inevitable losses? First I needed to plug the inverter into the solar panel. The panel has an SAE-to-alligator-clip adapter, and the inverter has something that you plug into an automotive outlet, like the kind cigarette lighters use.

Pro tip: on an automotive plug, the pointy part is positive. The springy contacts on the sides are negative. After I did that, plugging a tablet or phone into the inverter's AC outlet just barely, intermittently worked. But I'd forgotten about one of the inverter's features: it has old-style USB outlets, which seem to work better.

What would really make things work is stronger light and fewer clouds, which aren't going to happen where I live for a few months. The acid test is, come springtime or so, can I recharge my bicycle headlamp in a few hours? If so, I'm all set for The Thing In The Desert.

The background: a while back I ran out of the nice seasoning salt from the Tickler that I put on my salad, and I was having trouble finding the same brand anywhere that I want to buy from, i.e. not Amazon. Naturally, I've tried making my own. It's OK, but not fantastic. So in my quest to make it fantastic, I thought I'd try MSG, monosodium glutamate.

Good luck finding MSG at any non-Asian grocery store; not even PCC carries it. In case you didn't know, there are long-debunked myths among Westerners about people getting headaches, etc. from MSG. The myths even have a name: "Chinese restaurant syndrome".

After a short bus trip to an Asian grocery store – H Mart, not Uwajimaya, because it was closer – I eventually found MSG. It was a bottle about the size of a salt shaker, made by a big Japanese company, carefully labelled to obscure the presence of MSG: "umami seasoning". I figure Ajinomoto's marketing department knows the score in the US. It's a pity that they have to.

Sez Uncle Wiki, MSG was first isolated in Japan in the late 19th century from a biological source: kombu, a kind of seaweed long used to lend a – wait for it – umami flavor to various dishes.

Also snarfed at H Mart were Shin Black instant ramen (duh) and bonito flakes. That's Christmas dinner, baby.

Yesterday morning I needed to pick something up at the drugstore. The nearest one to the Devil Girl House is a Walgreen's, and I stopped by on my bike.

I knew something was up immediately when I went to get a hand basket and they were missing, just a wire cart with wheels left. When prompted, I asked the dude behind the counter where they were. "They got stolen," he replied.
"Good God!"

As I walked around the store I noticed an awful lot of big bare spots on the shelves. Laundry detergent behind lock and key. I felt fortunate to find (something like) the items I came for. It was almost as bad as the early pandemic supply chain interruptions or even Bartell's death spiral.

The aforementioned dude offered me a credit card as I was checking out. Really? "No thanks," I replied.

I said as I was leaving that stealing all the baskets doesn't make sense even from a thief's perspective. "It helps them carry more stuff," he said. As if they're organized or at least cooperating.

Now, we've all heard by now that claims of rampant theft by retailers in the Seattle area and surely other cities are horseshit meant to excuse management's bad decisions, e.g. treating all their customers like criminals. Why aren't supermarkets locking up their detergent?

So now I'm wondering, did my local Walgreen's really get cleaned out by thieves, or are they being run by idiots like all the other drugstore chains? It's bizarre that I'm even asking that question.

The preface: during my quinceañera Friday night, a woman unknown to me (!) gave me a long-stemmed red rose, bought from Muhammad*. I got it home, and yesterday morning I realized that I hadn't put it in my one, tall, plain glass vase. As I got the vase out from its spot on the counter, I dropped it, and it shattered into an annoyingly high number of pieces.

Fast forward to last night. T wanted to go to the open house at Equinox Studios, the place down in Georgetown with tons of artists & craftspeople. The open house in December is, of course, extra crowded and bAnAnAs. I ran into multiple goths known to me, including Diminutive** and Cyra Hobson, who's quite a sculptor and has her studio at Equinox. It was inevitable, then that I found the perfect vase from Jeanne Ferraro: opaque, cobalt-blue glass.

Lots of people including Ferraro remembered me because I was wearing The Coat. Some dude said he'd seen me walking around our neighborhood. We live less than two blocks apart, and I'd never met him. Who know a coat could be magic?

I completed my set of herbivorous dinosaur fridge magnets. I mean, Parasaurolophus. How could I not?

Things I covet but couldn't buy for various reasons:

• The Matisse dining set by John Kirschbaum. I've never seen anything like it, and yes, he knows how to make a comfy chair. If you meet the guy, be patient: he talks unusually slowly.
• A photo of one of the Iron Monkeys' pieces. I'd like a print to hide a dent in the wall that I put there while moving furniture.
• Jewelry by, oddly enough, Black Dog Forge. They used to be in Belltown, and that's all I can find about them in a quick search. I've seen at least one amazing bed frame that they made.

I've long since realized that I kind of hate my nightstand lamp. There were nice ones there – in colors I didn't like. Le sigh.

Spending the time with T was fun, too. She's almost as good an enabler as the lady who introduced us, cupcake_goth. She's also a good transit communist like I am; we had excellent Metro mojo last night.

I did not partake of ravey goodness last night because it was after 2300 when I got home, and my dogs were if not barking definitely grumpy. But I'd call the trip a success.



*He's this old South Asian dude who's been walking around selling flowers on Capitol Hill for decades.
**Her name is the diminutive form of mine. She's a full head shorter than I am. I'm never not amused by this.

As of yesterday, I've been living for fifteen years as a woman. In other words, yesterday was my fifteenth rebirthday. I didn't go out yet, but my son took me out for tacos and a beer around the corner. Happy rebirthday to me. It's a little trippy to think that what turned into my grand coming out was a whopping fifteen years ago. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

My actual quinceañera, as I'm calling it, will be tomorrow evening at the Wildrose. There will be the big blue dress from Gallery Serpentine. Tacoma Girl and Ms. Washington State Leather said they'd come. I hope for an interesting evening. (Sadly, Funny Lady is out of town.)