Fiona Dobson's Crossdressing Blog.
Accept yourself as you are – create yourself as you desire.
|
| Â |
|
| Â |
Looking for that special gift for the dominant uber bitch in your life? What could possibly be better than this Sexy Leather Bodysuit Leotard? Nothing says “I want you to dress me up like a sissie and beat the heck out of me” quite like a faux leather leotard! Just $19.95.
Tragedy strikes in Huckleberry Close, but don’t worry – my nails look perfect!
Become a Patron!The awful truth about the nefarious vegetable emerges.
Become a Patron!
Max shoved a carrot up Max’s exhaust pipe!
Hi,
This morning, just as I was emerging from my morning yoga session, I was surprised to see Max (my neighbourâs son), huffing and puffing and coming in my rear entrance, a bundle of excited youthful anticipation. He was hurrying up the garden path, as I pulled up my yoga pants, and adjusted my hair.
Sebastian, my personal trainer, was as surprised as I was myself. He likes to come early to stretch me, as 
Iâm sure my regular members are aware.
âFiona,â said Max, bursting into my kitchen. âCan I take a look at your beaver?â
As you probably know, today is Canada Day. Itâs a tradition in Huckleberry Close, to come over to my house on Canada Day, and look at my beaver – a beautiful piece of taxidermy – the centrepiece of the Canada Day party I always throw on the Canada Day Weekend, to celebrate us throwing off the shackles of oppressive colonialism before Canada declared itself free of tyrannical rule from London. Actually, thatâs not really true. We just all sort of agreed that weâd have a new flag and continue to be the friends we’ve always been. No one was being either tyrannical or oppressive, but itâs a good excuse for a party. And the centre piece of the party is my beaver, a stuffed animal that has become something of a mascot over the years. Itâs traditional for us to enjoy some lovely Canadian Wines, from British Columbia (a place that is neither British nor Columbian), swap hockey stories and talk about Zamboniâs while apologizing to one another. We all eat poutine and make fun of people we love from Newfoundland, and generally act in an understated but quietly superior way, while listening to The Tragically Hip, 54 40, Five Man Electrical Band, Rush and many other great Canadian bands.
I told Max, âDarling, calm down. My beaver is open to everyone, just give me a moment to prepare it! Youâll get your turn. Just donât get too excited. Itâs Canada Day, youâll have to pace yourself.â
We have so many wonderful traditions in Canada. Being Canadian means so many wonderful things to all the peoples of our country. We love our diversity, our first nations people and our democracy, which we value enough to protect.
If Max gets over excited, of course, it will be over before itâs really started. It can happen to us all. I handed him a pot of maple syrup and suggested he put it out on the garden table while I went down to get the noble beast, and then he could examine my beaver to his hearts content.
This yearâs wine of choice is Quill, a distinctive Rose from Vancouver Island, which is quite delightful and goes rather well with the short skirt Iâm wearing. Itâs light, a little cheeky and subtly stimulating. The wineâs not bad either. I know weâll be toasting Sylvester, who has decided to commit to a course learning to drive a Zamboni at the local hockey arena. I must get things ready for the party shortly, so this will be a short email.
It may come as a surprise to some of you, but Marjory (my delightful lesbian neighbor) got her hand stuck in my beaver recently while trying to replace some of the stuffing. She was wedged right in there! I know what youâre thinking, what was she of all people doing, jammed up there? Well, she does fancy herself as something of an amateur taxidermist. Strange woman. Sheâs from Alaska, you know. Eventually we got her hand out, but ever since sheâs been acting most strangely. Sheâs said on more than one occasion that she wishes her hands were a little smaller. I canât think why! Itâs almost as though sheâs never heard of lube. I understand it softens the skin nicely and taxidermists swear by it.
I hurried down to the basement and found my beaver, then carried it up to my garden table, already bathed in warm summer sunshine. In the sunlight I could see it has begun to look a little tired. I suppose one can not be surprised. After all, my beaver has been fingered by many over the passing years. And yet, surprisingly it continues to put a contented smile on many of my friends faces. However, I do believe a beaver should be well groomed and well presented. I will speak to my local taxidermist and have him restuff it later this month.
With this in mind I resolved to make a Canada Day offer to all my friends and members. Anyone who emails me with the words in the subject line âFiona, Iâll stuff your beaver!â before the end of Canada Day weekend, July 3rd, can have a free membership to My Little Black Book. This is worth $2.95 a month for crossdressing gurls, and $4.95 a month to Admirers. So, get your digits moving and I can help get some more members in there.
Have a wonderful Canada day weekend.
😊
Fiona
I usually enjoy my morning tea after a short yoga work out, while I read the headlines on my tablet. Yet this week all I seem to be inundated with in my news feed is the news that some US states are legislating against drag shows and emulating such countries as Uganda in their headlong run toward transphobia. It seems an odd choice for a country claiming to be forward thinking.
âHonestly,â I said as Sebastian poured another cup, âthese cucks will stop at nothing!â
âWhatâs that?â asked Sebastian.
âWell, that ridiculous man DeSantis claims heâs going to save our kids from raging queens. But Iâve never heard of any drag performers ever doing anything to a child?â
âThat would be because they donât do anything to children. Itâs the old trick, invent a problem and then offer a solution and claim youâre the only person that can fix it,â said Sebastian.
âSo, how many drag queens do abuse children?â I asked. âI usually attend drag shows that are charity events raising money for good causes. I canât remember ever seeing anything that has anything to do with abusing children. You’d think I’d notice.â
âThat would be because itâs nonsense. Fortunately here in Canada we donât get sucked into that sort of thing. Iâd be very curious to know just how many drag shows Ron Desantis has been to, as a point of interest,â said Sebastian.
âWell, he does look like a boyfriend I had at university. An odd chap. Ate my panties,â I said remembering an incident unsuitable to repeated here. My memory is a little hazy, but I do remember him being quite embarrassed at the Emergency Department in the hospital. It was a wild time.
âWhat an odd thing to do,â commented Sebastian.
âIt takes all sorts,â I replied. âNearly choked on them, as I remember.â
I poured more tea.
âBut even so, how does this have anything to do with the transgender community? Donât these people realise drag and transgenderism are two entirely different things?â I persisted.
âFiona,â replied Sebastian, âyou canât expect these people to think about these things rationally. Itâs quite literally beyond them. They have no experience of what theyâre talking about, and itâs just about getting cheap votes. Of course, itâs easy to say âWeâre going to save all these children!â when in fact none are in any way under threat. And if youâre against their ridiculous legislation you look like you donât care about children.â
âBut look at my members,â I responded. âMost of them have children. You couldnât find a nicer and more caring group of people.â
âI know,â said Sebastian. âThese people appeal to the most frightened and weak members of society. They look for people who are easily influenced. IF they can convince them thereâs a problem, then they can set themselves up as the solution. It appeals to many weak minded people. Thereâs no point trying to argue with them. Thereâs nothing you can possibly suggest that will make them turn around and say, âOh yes, youâre right, Fiona!â No, theyâre just frightened little people living very sad lives. And that is exactly who a fascist like DeSantis is reaching out to.â
âIt seems very sad. And they will end up with blood on their hands, because good people wonât get the gender affirming care they need. But, I guess they donât care about the kids who die because theyâre denied gender affirming care. I guess theyâre the wrong kind of kids, right?â
âThatâs about the size of it,â said Sebastian.
What a world we live in. Fortunately there is such a thing as a vote. If you live in the southern US be sure to see you are properly registered so that when the time comes we can vote these fascist ding dongs out. Of course, Canadians like myself watch the likes of DeSantis with a sense of bemused amazement. He simply couldn’t even get elected to a school board in this country. At least these idiots make us look good.
âSo, what are you up to this weekend,â I asked Sebastian feeling the need to change the subject.
âBernard is taking Rainbow and I sailing,â he replied. âPoor Rainbow. Sheâs a struggling student now. She had to sell the watch she got off our grand father on his death bed. She needs cash to get through this month.â
âOh dear,â I replied.
âYes,â sighed Sebastian. âApparently he put up a hell of a struggle but she got it in the end.â
I felt this was an awkward subject but continued, âShe always said he was a bit of a tight wad. Though he did have a soft spot for her, as I understand it.â
âOh yes. Rainbow told me that if she buttered him up, heâd always end up splashing out.â
âGood grief,â I replied.
But thatâs not the main reason Iâm writing. I just thought Iâd let you k now I have a wonderful offer running on Patreon at present. If you become a Unicorn member through my Patreon membership and stay on for three months you get a delightful cup. Something to press to your lips every morning, to remind you of me. I know youâll love it.
😊
Fiona
Become a Patron!
“This knob is very stiff,” I said to Sylvester, as I relaxed in the seat.
Oh, I should explain, he’s been installing a new sound system in my car.
“I can loosen it a little,” said Sylvester, “but you don’t want it so loose that someone ends up jerking it off. You wouldn’t want that.”
“Speak for yourself,” I replied.
However, that’s not the reason I’m writing to you. Mildred, from Colorado Springs writes:
“Fiona, I’d like to be reminded of you every morning when I have my first cup of coffee of the day. And I’d also like to discretely show my support for trans people and those of us that are of a gender non-conforming bent. What can you do to help?
Love from Mildred, Colorado Springs.
PS. Why do I get so much mail that starts out “Dear Sir or Madam’? Is there something I should know?”
OK. One thing at a time.
Yes, of course I have something to help you first thing in the morning. And a discrete way to show your support to all our members and friends. I was in a conversation with Sebastian about this just yesterday. I can see him in my minds eye right now, sitting on my right hand after we’d finished yoga, while I enjoyed a soothing cup of Earl Grey Tea.
“Those nice boys and girls at Patreon can help you. They can make a cup and give it to any member who joins as a Unicorn and stays on for three months,” he told me while pulling his yoga pants back on.
“That’s a curiously random piece of information to have,” I replied.
It’s true, though. If you join my Patreon as a Unicorn after three months you will receive this lovely mug, complete with the image here. This will be recognizable to anyone interested in gender issues, though won’t really mean much to anyone else. I’m told it’s really a good idea. It is also a great conversation starter.
Keep in in this is my first venture into the world of ‘Merch’. It all sounds so very sordid. Anyway, Max will oversee the tech side of it. He’s recovered from the last flogging he had. I think that was for something to do with us being kicked off Tumblr. Again! Either way I will see it’s done well.
So, pound my button as hard as you can and sign up as a Unicorn Member and in three months you’ll get a cool cup to help you enjoy me every morning. Wait. That’s not what I meant.
đ
Fiona.
Become a Patron!
I was doing yoga in my garden just this morning with Sebastian, when he raised something thatâs been on my mind a while.
âFiona,â he said, while adjusting my position in a deep hip opening yoga position, âI have always like that on your blog you are unafraid to deal with the deep and penetrating issues.â
I felt him leaning into my posture, pressing me slightly deeper into the position.
Continue reading “I know what I believe, no need to wear that on my sleeve…”I am very proud of my legs. As Sebastian, my personal trainer has often commented, during our yoga practice, I am able to place my legs in some most unusual positions. As I was doing âdownward dogâ the other morning I felt first a twinge and then one knee collapsed, and I was revisited by some damage incurred during an old skiing accident.
I am very happy with my general health, however in the fall, now and then, I get a twinge. It passes within a week or so, and then I am back to tip top health, but this week I am very slow. I know you are wondering what all this has to do anything, but I felt I should confide in you, as what I am about to say might sound just a little odd.
Part of my morning fitness routine, usually following my morning swim with Sebastian â he really does enjoy giving me a morning work out â is to walk my dog, Hannibal. Now, some of you may remember Hannibal has had more than one run in with Amanda over the years. He once found a marital aid under her sofa and the resulting drama was traumatizing for myself and my poor little dachshund.
He subsequently saw Sebastianâs homeopath for PTSD for several weeks. Petâs Traumatic Stress Disorder is not a widely recognized, at least not in the DSM, but if you were exposed to Amandaâs adult toy collection I guarantee youâd not be the same person after the experience. A whole teamof therapists wouldn’t be enough, I assure you.
I stepped out of the warm stream of the shower knowing Sebastian and Sylvester were downstairs waiting for me in the breakfast room. After pulling on some panties, a robe and my pink fluffy slippers I hurried down the stairs.
Sebastian and Sylvester were at the table. Iâd completed a particularly rigorous dawn yoga session with Sebastian. If my hips were any more open you could have driven a train up there. As luck would have it Sylvester had offered to make us breakfast. While usually a coarse oaf, Sylvester has the capacity to be quite sweet at times.
As I glided into the kitchen Sylvester was serving up a delightful grilled breakfast, the sausages sizzling fresh off the skillet. A good start to the day is a lot easier with a breakfast like this. And breakfast is really the most important meal of the day. The bacon was glistening with flavor and the tomatoes came from Aliâs own garden. Quite lovely.
âItâs the damndest thing,â I said staring at the plate.
Sylvester looked at my plate and said âwhatâs wrong with it?â
âNo, not the food. Itâs just I had the weirdest dream last night.â
Sebastian asked, âWhat did you dream?â
I closed my eyes and tried to remember how it all went.
âThere were a few of us downtown. And there was this guy who had died.â
âWho was he?â asked Sylvester.
âI donât know. Itâs not important. Just some stiff,â I replied.
âAnyway they wouldnât let him in the graveyard because the church said they didnât have room. But everyone knew it was because he was queer. So, there was this drag queen. She was lovely. Letâs call her âCarlottaâ.., and I. And we stole the body and buried her up in the church yard anyway.â
âYou know they donât let you do that,â said Sylvester.
âIt was a dream,â I protested. âAnd we went up there and buried this guy. And then we did other stuff. Loads of stuff⊠And I had this lovely long velvet riding dress, like in that English serial. And Carlotta had these sequins on her pants and a gold cowboy hat and these huge guns with pearl inlays and a smoked blue gunmetal finish. A pair of 44s. Matching nails. Did I say we were on horses?â
âI know all about Carlottaâs 44s. How many of you were there,â asked Sylvester, a canny look in his eye.
âI believe it was seven. Seven trannies and drag queens. And one was bald. Iâm not quite sure what her deal was. Yes, that sounds about right. You have no idea how much glitter that is.â I replied.
âYes, you just dreamed The Magnificent Seven. Thatâs one of the best movies ever made,â said Sylvester.
âI thought it was a fantasy about masculinity and white privilege wrapped up in a self righteous superior message, all avoiding the whole gun thing, and how itâs a penis substitute and actually theyâd all rather be playing with their wieners. Except Yul Brynner. No, If he was coming after me with that huge weapon of his. Well, letâs just say I wouldnât be running away all that fast.â I replied. âCan you imagine,â I said my thoughts drifting off. ââŠfalling, and Yul leaning over you and reaching down and pulling you to your feet, and grabbing a great handful of ass and rippingâŠ.â My voice tailed off. Sometimes I do forget not to speak my thoughts.
I continued, âBut, yes, still one of the best movies ever made.â
Bringing a note of levity to the conversation Sebastian chimed in, âTheyâre all gone nowâŠâ
And what a time it would be to have a magnificent seven. With trans rights, and democracy itself on the ropes, we see so many hard won advances in decline. Things will turn around again soon. And in the meantime I think we have to support our trans sisters, regardless of what stage they are at, wherever we find them. Remember, youâre not alone. There are many of us here.
Enjoy the video clip below.
😊
Fiona
Hi,
Of all the busy bees in my life these days chief among them is my good friend and mechanic, Sylvester. I came into the living room just yesterday to find him on the floor with Sebastian, my personal trainer, saying âColonel Mustard, in the library with a ten-inch dildo.â
âI beg your pardon,â I said a little shocked.
âOh hello,â said Sylvester. âWeâre playing Adult Clue (or Cludo if you are from The United Kingdom). Itâs something Iâve adapted from the board game.â
Sylvester can be quite a disturbing individual, and he really can be quite coarse at times.
âWell,â I said, trying to be encouraging although I felt a little awkward, âIâm glad to see youâre not letting your God given talents go to waste, Sylvester.â
After a moment’s thought I added, “Perhaps you could think up some way to murder a new character – you could call her, oh, I don’t know… ‘Amanda’. Death by impaling, in the neighbors house, by the crossdresser.”
For those of you who don’t know, Amanda is my wife’s childhood friend, who has started a relationship with my next door neighbour, Marjory. This is a source of some annoyance, particularly as my wife is travelling at present.
I should tell you I enjoy competitive games enormously. I also play some role playing games. So many times I feel like Iâm getting ahead and suddenly someoneâs coming up behind me and a breathless struggle ensues. Itâs all very exciting. Perhaps you know the feeling. Sometimes I get so excited, I just don’t know what comes over me! I guess it’s the cut and thrust – mostly the thrust – of putting oneself up against a fellow player.
I should also say that this week one of my friends who is a regular player got on a plane to work in New York for a couple of weeks, leaving me with no alternative but to play with myself.
That, however, is not the main reason I’m writing to you. I thought I’d write and tell you about the delightful Mollie Blake. She’s a talented writer who has recently had a piece featured on my website, and we’re expecting to see some interesting new episodes from soon. If you’ve not already read “The Dating Game“, this weekend is a great time to do so.
I should also draw special attention to Katia Thornwood’s writing, which is mostly in my Seahorse level which has been growing into a favorite among my members. Slipping into bed, and putting Katia on to read as you fall asleep is one sure way to end the night on a high note. Katia’s style is quite unique, and if you enjoy her rather strange view of the world.
For the many members who are asking about the Clothes Maketh The Man chapter list it can be found HERE. Well, you can see that the office here has been pretty busy bringing you the best of all things to do with Crossdressing. Have a wonderful week.
😊
Fiona
Become a Patron!
|
|
|
I awoke this morning to a terrific banging. Now, I know what youâre thinking, but it wasnât like that at all.
I pulled on a lovely apricot silk gown, and fluffy slippers, and hurried down to the front door, where I was confronted by Sylvester and Sebastian chatting away, framed by snow in the doorway.
âI had a huge curry, last night,â said Sylvester, âand I woke up to find weâd had a terrific dump!â
âGood morning, Sylvester,â I said as the two of them stood on my snowy doorstep. âI assume youâre talking about this heavy snowfall.â
âItâs about 9 inches and I couldnât get up the drive at all.â
âCan we use your rear entrance, Fiona?â said Sebastian. If I had a nickel for everytimeâŠ
âWhy donât you boys slip around the back of the house. Aliâs very kindly cleared the lane. You should be able to park there without difficulty,â I said.
And with that the two boys disappeared and left me to put on the hot chocolate, and warm some croissants. My friends are joining me for breakfast today as weâre working on some new ideas for the premium program. If youâre a member of this wonderful program youâll know how much fun we have with it. If youâre not, then think about jumping in!
Have a lovely day.
đ
Fiona
Become a Patron!
|
|
|
Become a Patron!
As I was washing some vegetables this morning after my weekly shop at the organic vegetable store my phone rang, and who should it be but Sebastian, my personal trainer.
âSebastian,â I said answering the call. âHow lovely to hear from you. Iâm just washing my organic ethically sourced zuchinis.â
This seemed to stop him in his tracks, but he quickly recovered himself.
âFiona,â he said, clearly agitated, âwhat on earth have you been saying to Rainbow?”
You’ll remember that Rainbow is Sebastian’s flakey kombucha drinking yoga teacher sister.
âI chatted with her just yesterday,â I said. âWe had a lovely conversation on that thing Max installed on my phone. Snatchchat, I think itâs called.â
âBut what did you say to her,â he persisted.
âOh, we talked about all sorts of things,â I replied. âThat Mr. Willow down the road. He got caught cheating on his wife with her twin sister. Funny story actually.â
Before I could go on Sebastian cut in, âDid you give her some career advice?â
âOh, I wouldnât give her career advice,â I said. âNot after the incident at the vets place.â –
Sebastian, sounded quite exasperated.
âWhat on earthâs the matter?â I asked.
Sounding very puzzled, he replied, âI just donât understand it. Sheâs going on about you telling her that she should be a therapist.â
âWhat, Rainbow?â I replied, almost swallowing my tongue in surprise.
âYeah, thatâs what I thought.â
Suddenly a thought came to my mind. It came with the crushing inevitability of a garbage truck backing purposefully over a childâs unseen tricycle left out in the lane.
âOh, wait,â I said. âI seem to remember saying to her that she should âseeâ a therapist. Yes, that was it. Somewhere after the second bottle of Cab Sauvignon. Did you know her last therapist took his own life? Terrible!â
âOh God,â said Sebastian. âShe thinks you said she should âbeâ a therapist. And now sheâs all excited about getting trained.â
âIt would be an unusual choice for a person like Rainbow,â I said. âVery unusual.â
You can read Rainbowâs profile here.
I shall watch her development with the sense of foreboding it deserves.
Have a lovely week,
Fiona
PS. Enjoy some Contrapoints below.
As you likely know, I work for a well known advertising agency in an active office in this delightful city. It is often said that for each job in some industries, several other people are supported. So, for example while a car plant may employ 4,000 people a further 6,000 jobs are created servicing the 4,000 people employed with things like transport, employment services and catering. In much the same way, my work supports not just myself, but also Sylvester my mechanic, Sebastian my personal trainer, Ali my gardener, young Max who helps with technology on my blog and several other assorted hangers on and peripheral individuals.
I was talking on this very subject with Bernard, my photographer, when we were out on agency business just the other day. Ali, who so lovingly tends my garden, spends more time there than I ever do. Instead, while he enjoys my delightful champaign colored roses in my garden I am out driving with Bernard on a task for the advertising agency. And Iâm paying Ali! It all seems rather obtuse. That said, I do love Ali, and his daughters are sweetness itself. They arrived in Canada just a couple of years ago, refugees from the war in Syria.
Continue reading “There’s never a dull moment in the advertising business.”I could not help noticing, whilst driving home from the advertising agency the other day, the names on the back of vehicles. The model names of vehicles are of interest to me, from both the branding perspective and what it tells me about the drivers.
A therapist member of mine recently pointed out to me that several of their erectile dysfunction clients did indeed drive muscle cars, in more than one instance a Hummer. Frankly I feel anyone driving a Hummer should be on their knees begging forgiveness from their children as they pump heat into an increasingly fragile environment. On the other hand, given the erectile dysfunction issues associate with Hummer ownership theirs a good chance that having children is one complication these thoughtless tools will not have to concern themselves with.
Sylvester, on the other hand has shunned the muscles cars and even removed the photo on his office wall of him posing with his Dodge Penetrator 3000. I am pleased to see him mellowing. I do remember the day he pulled up outside my house, on his phone calling me to tell me he was there.
âIâm just pulling into your garage,â he said. âNo wait, Iâm reversing. Pulling in again⊠backing up, and going in again now. Perhaps I should go in the laneway round the back. I can get the back way, but itâs a bit tight.â
You know, I may have said this before, but Sylvester can be quite coarse at times.
Personally I like to drive a Buick Vagina. Itâs the limited Silhouette edition. So much more my style. Both feminine and powerful, with the twin turbo V6 with the cuddle seats option.
Vehicle names and designs do tell us a lot about their drivers. I noticed a Kia Soul in the traffic as I was driving home, and I can only speculate that some Korean designer sat down and thought hard about what a car designed for Spongebob Squarepants might look like, and then took up the challenge to build it. Ironically the driver of this particular vehicle did look like a cartoon character.
Sebastian, my vegetarian personal trainer, drives a Kia Hymen when not riding his electric bicycle. His sister, Rainbow, drives a Nissan Slide with a synchromatic gearbox. Amanda drives a Prius, which is entirely predictable, while of course Ali, my gardener, drives the Smart Car with a rifle rack on the rear window, adapted to carry his gardening tools. Heâs proud to declare he always shows up with his hoes.
One of my Vancouver members, Lenni, is originally from Alaska, and proudly tells of her mother having driven a Ford LTD wagon. This vehicle, with a 7.5 litre engine has the dubious distinction of being capable of hitting a moose, killing it, and then being able to transport it back to the trailor park for butchering. I canât help thinking life in Alaska holds wonders I am pleased not to have either witnessed or shared.
Instead I think Iâll go and get Sylvester to change the fluids in my Buick Vagina.
Have a lovely week.
Fiona
I was lamenting the passing of our Queen yesterday, along with a huge number of people. My voice need hardly be added to the outpouring of regret by so many others, and yet I do feel a sense of loss. The Queen was, after all, an influence my entire life, and thereâs no doubt about it, whatever else she was, she really was a likeable sort of monarch.
It was fitting that I wore a nice black sweater, black stockings and a black kilt yesterday. On that slightly mournful note, I have some lovely crossdressing funeral ideas HERE.
After my yoga session this morning I was sitting in my kitchen, enjoying a calming cup of tea with Sebastian, when he started telling me the news about his sister, Rainbow.
âRainbowâs not seeing that optician anymore,â said Sebastian a little mournfully.
âIâm sorry,â I said, confused.
âTheyâve broken up. Itâs a pity, I think he was very good for her,â continued Sebastian. âApparently when she said she couldnât see him anymore he told her to stand a little closer, and then said âAnd now?ââ
I looked at Sebastian and tried to figure out if he was joking.
âWell, Rainbow has some unusual ideas,â I said.
âShe certainly does. She told me she felt their energies didnât âco-mingleâ they way she wanted,â he concluded, looking through the window into the far distance in deep contemplation.
I tell you this as much as anything to set the scene. The window that overlooks my garden is really quite lovely but of late I have had Ali trimming some of the bushes just around the base of the window. Heâs a talented gardener, and moves quite silently about the place, his long white gown floating like some ethereal gardening spirit. Now and then he stands up, his head appearing in my wind, and says something before once again going down on hands and knees working on among the foliage of my beautiful flowers. It can be quite disconcerting at times. Heâs just like a Syrian Jack In The Box, appearing out of nowhere. It can be quite startling.
It was in this tranquil scene of quiet contemplation as I sipped my chamomile tea that Aliâs wizened head appeared, rising out of nowhere and chimed in, âTits like coconuts.â
I steadied my nerves as Ali sank out of my line of vision, and then rising and leaning out of the window looked down into the flower beds and said, âI beg your pardon?â
Sebastian struggled back onto his stool.
Ali surfaced back into view and replied, âYou were saying how much you like the birdsong of summer, and wanted to attract more birds into your garden.â
I stared blankly before remembering a conversation weâd had just the other day. I do like to attract wildlife into the garden, and had asked Ali if he had any thoughts on the matter.
âOh yes,â he went on. âLotâs of birds love coconuts. If you hang them on a string from one of the trees itâs sure to attract a few. You know, tits, chaffinches and sparrows. They all love coconuts.â
I slowly sat down once more, and thanked Ali for his contribution to the conversation. I really do wonder just how much English he understands, at times. I may have to talk with his English teacher.
I do hope youâre having a delightful end of summer. Be sure to have a look around the website â thereâs a lot there and I always try to keep things fun.
😊
Fiona
âThatâs it, Sylvester,â I said. âYou just take down your boxers and Iâll stick a big one up there!â
While perched on the top of a step ladder Sylvester handed me down the two portraits of his fatherâs prize winner pedigree boxer dogs. They won the dog show here several years ago, and as I liked the pictures so much Sylvester allowed me to display the paintings in my living room while his apartment was being decorated. They made a nice change, but to be honest Iâm a little bored of them now. Iâm replacing them with a huge photograph of Hannibal, my dachshund now. I do like to freshen up the look of my living room in spring, donât you?
I’ve had a lovely week, Marjory my neighbour invited me over yesterday evening, having hired a sweet young French chef to cook her birthday dinner. What a handsome young man he is! And I think he took a shine to me, too.
After thanking him in the kitchen for such a lovely meal I spotted something between the frog’s legs, and the cake. So many candles! In the end we lit them, and the chef and my friends all sang happy birthday for Marjory before she blew them all out in the dinning room. It brought quite a lump to my throat. Such fun!
But thatâs not the main reason Iâm writing today. I’ve been trying to be supportive to Rainbow, Sebastian‘s sister. She’s terribly worried about the people in Ukraine, where she has a number of friends.
“They should do something about those awful Russians,” she said to me while sitting at my kitchen table. “Can’t they send someone?”
“Like who?” I asked.
“I don’t know. The Pope, or the other one,” and then she paused and scratched her head, and then remembering said, “That nice Bono, or Greta Thunberg, perhaps.”
“I’m not sure Greta’s quite the right person,” I replied, “though she might have something to say about the carbon emissions of those useless T72 tanks. They seem to burn very well, if nothing else, but I don’t think that does much for global warming. Then again nor does a thermobaric weapon. The environment doesn’t seem to be a priority for Mr. Putin.”
“I feel so helpless,” she added at length.
“Well, you don’t have to,” I said. “Unicef, the UN agency with a mandate to help women and children, is organising help for women and children in Ukraine. So is UNHCR, who look after refugees.”
Giving here has the funds matched by the agency and is applied directly to women and children in need, and is the most efficient way to provide help. I didn’t need to add that previously having worked for Unicef in Africa, in field emergencies in Sudan and Somalia, I could vouch for their effectiveness.
“It’s a tragedy,” I said, giving her a hug. “But one way or another we’re all going to be a part of sorting it out. And I don’t mind paying a few extra dollars for gas if it means we don’t give Mr. Putin the kind of help he needs to hurt innocent women and children in Ukraine. Let’s just hope people are wise enough not to let his friends, people like that orange haired loser of a former president, ever get anywhere near the reins of power ever again.”
With that I suggested Rainbow come upstairs and help me pick out a nice yellow and blue outfit to wear when I go out today. Perhaps you could do the same.
If you feel generous use the links above to send a few dollars to support people affected by the war in Ukraine. Send me a copy of your receipt and I will enroll you at no cost in our Whatsapp Group – a gift worth $10 a month. Just send me a copy of your receipt to fdobson@zoho.com
Have a lovely week.
Fiona
Become a Patron!
Ali has been here in Canada for several years now, having arrived as a refugee along with his lovely family from Syria. As I have mentioned before he was a botany professor in Damascus University prior to the war there, and is now my gardener. His knowledge of fauna and flora really is most extensive.
Arriving from a country such as Syria one does have to check some of the experiences and baggage that we bring, at the door â as it were. Jeff, who looks after immigration at our local airport, says that most immigrants are all too ready to let go of the past and look forward to their new life in Canada. And many, like Ali, bring some wonderful talents to our communities, regardless of what they may have done in the past. Like many of us, Ali does not talk much about his former life. I imagine it could be quite dark but have had few glimpses of what it may have entailed. Itâs really none of my business.
Jeff takes great pride in telling me that he checks the passports of all immigrants arriving at the airport (other than when heâs on his lunch break or picking up his kids from school). He says that Canada accepts the poor, the disadvantaged and the impotent. He then rather sheepishly adds that unfortunately, while the poor and disadvantaged regularly show up, unfortunately the impotent couldnât come.
Aliâs language skills, however, appear to still require some polish. As I sat drinking my morning tea in my kitchen Ali joined me and flicked through the local paper that had just been delivered. I had just finished my daily yoga workout and was still in my pink leggings and powder blue sports bra, thatâs so good for working out.
He took his tea black and was quite absorbed in the paper.
âIt says here,â he said at length, âthat the city is going to have a âpilot racoon cullâ.â
âItâs about time,â I said, knowing how mischievous the racoon population of Huckleberry Close can be. âTheyâre too clever by half.â
Ali frowned as he read the article.
âItâs just that you wouldnât think they could do that,â he replied.
âWhat do you mean?â I said sensing something amiss.
Sipping his tea Ali continued reading without looking up and turned the page. âYouâd think theyâd fail the eye test. I did.â
I sometimes wonder about Ali and his command of English. It is, however, better than my command of his obscure dialect of Arabic. Iâd given up my attempts to learn his language after failing to master such a simple phrase as âIs it safe to drink the water in this hospital?â
We all of us have our own particular perspective that brings a bit of ourselves to all we observe. As a crossdressing non-binary person, when I see a Zebra I do not take offence at the black and white nature of the creature. Ali, on the other hand, sees a majestic beast of the African plains while Sebastian sees a walking barcode. He then goes on to pretend to scan it in much the same way as the checkout girl in the corner store, and adds, âAt least itâs easy to keep track of them.â
We all of us have our divergent ways of looking at things and each is equally correct. As trans people I think we have to learn acceptance of others with views that donât align with our own. They, like us, are travelling their own journey. As people who are often misunderstood, it is up to us to try to understand others – the good, the bad and the ugly – with kindness and without judgement.
But that is not the main reason Iâve written to you this morning. Iâve been adding new content to some of my programs. They are now even better value than ever. Be sure to join if youâve not done so already. I always do my very best for my lovely members.
😊
Fiona
