This is like a new take on "Hey, guess where I'm calling you from? The plane!" I'm in the Ted Stevens (the sign made me laugh out loud; he's the notorious porklover senator here) Airport awaiting my bush plane flight to Kenai. Tomorrow I'll be dancing in a tiny tiny club where they apparently have lawn chairs for seating!

Sunday night I fulfilled my lifelong dream of dancing at Mary's Club; more on that, for sure, later.

How to strap money to your garter

This is a tutorial . . .

First, procure a garter. This is different from a garter belt, which is used to hold up stockings. Originally, leg garters were also used for this purpose, but in some strip clubs (often nude ones, as there's nowhere else to put anything), they are used as a place to take and keep tips.



Put the garter on the leg of your choice. It shouldn't be right up under your ass or down by your knee but rather somewhere in between.



Insert cash.



Fold cash in half, generally with the smallest bill on the outside.



Wrap a rubber band around the folded cash





Double the rubber band to secure, and you will be instantly aware if you're about to lose some money.




Note: I don't do this in Portland. People can't stick money directly in a garter here and we get a lot of singles, so it seems most dancers carry a little purse.

And now, 4/17/07, an addendum: how to keep your money in a garter on your ankle!


Instead of putting the garter on your thigh, you're going to keep it on your ankle.





Wrap it in a figure eight to double it around your ankle.







Insert cash beneath both loops of the garter, on the inside of your ankle.





Fold the cash over, in half, and use one of the loops to hold it flat against your ankle.

For added security, you can use a rubber band to hold the cash as well.

Why yes, yes, I am still here, just incredibly lazy about blogging. I'm in Portland as you can see from the schedule, and getting ready to have a furious month of travel. Alaska to work for a week, then a trip to central Oregon, then off on a European vacation. I would like to take a minute to let those of you who tell me you like to live vicariously through my blog that I really, really appreciate the traveling I get to do because I have a flexible career and no kids. It's pretty great.

At work I have variations on the same conversation most of the time (with great breaks sometimes thanks to those customers willing to discuss comics, music, and mental illness). It starts with "Where are you from?" and generally proceeds to "Why are you here?" Most people move because of family or job requirements; I am in Portland because I like it here. I was in Cincinnati for a year because when Mr. Wayward was patiently waiting for me to complete my eight-year tour through college I promised him I'd leave Texas and go wherever he wanted. Fortunately we blew through Ohio rapidly and are here, a city that suits me to a T.

But, you know, we really didn't have a reason to come here aside from liking it, and I'm finding out how unusual that is. I live in a fantasy land where all of my friends either live in a pretty cool city (Austin) or where they move to places that are interesting because they can (Mexico, New York, Vancouver Island). But guys at the club are simply baffled by this most of the time until I explain, "Well, you see, I'm a stripper and I can live wherever I want. Portland is where I wanted to live."

And then they generally agree about what an awesome city it is and how the Pacific Northwest is the most beautiful part of America. Or sometimes they complain about the winters, which is when I know they're big pussies because, please, rain isn't bad. You don't have to shovel rain.

I am a lucky woman indeed.