“Planning ahead leaves worry behind.” - Tandra

Lockdown made us all try new things, but I never jumped on any of the big fads. I wasn’t tempted to make sourdough. Didn’t learn any viral dances. Never needed a dalgona coffee nor wanted to play Among Us.

However, I did embody the character of a middle-aged former court stenographer named Tandra.

Tandra wasn’t planned. She came to be the day I found a fabulous purple dress at the thrift store. As soon I put it on, along with her signature lavender bob and oversized bedazzled glasses, something shifted. I felt her spirit take over. I found her voice – and she had opinions. She also had warmth and wit. She carried the calm confidence of someone who’s seen everything, written it all down, and still chooses kindness (most of the time).

Her world began to fill in. She spent decades as a gifted stenographer. She’s been married to her husband Walter for 43 years, but still has eyes for the mailman. Her cat, Whiskopher, is her best friend. And she’s kept a journal for decades, planning her life down to the last detail. She’s thoughtful, considerate, intentional, and prepared. And makes a mean zucchini crisp (you’d never know it’s not apple!)

In the years before Tandra, journaling was my way of making sense of the world, especially when life felt uncertain. Tandra became an extension of that practice, a voice that could share encouragement, humor, insight, and reflection in a way that felt lighter and more generous than my own. My journal became hers, and soon @bytandrashand was born: a place for inspiring and funny videos, colorful journal spreads, and personal anecdotes delivered through Tandra’s signature joyful, thoughtful perspective.

At first, posting online – especially as a character in drag – was terrifying. But almost immediately, the support poured in. Friends reacted to her jokes and antics, made comments about her stories, and encouraged her to keep making fun and wholesome content. Someone even said she inspired them to start a journaling practice. Her Fandras (as she called them) were getting from her what she at one point needed most: calm reminders that everyone will be ok – and that laughing is healing.

She wasn’t just entertaining, she was helping create moments of comfort and creativity when they were needed most.

And somewhere along the way, I realized Tandra was helping me too. She was my permission slip to be playful and not self-conscious, wise without taking things too seriously, and creative without expecting perfection. Through her, I combined my love of journaling, performance, humor, and encouragement into something that felt whole – a version of myself amplified through compassion and creation.

Looking back, Tandra honestly feels less like a character I invented and more like a part of myself I finally allowed space to exist. (RuPaul famously says that drag doesn’t change who you are, it reveals who you are.) By stepping into someone else’s shoes – low black chunky heels, she has bad knees – I discovered a new way to connect with others and myself.

One of my favorite things about creativity is most often it doesn’t strike as some grand plan. Sometimes it peaks out of the rack at the thrift store, asks you to play along, and ends up teaching you who (and why) you are.

Enjoy an excerpt from Tandra’s diary:

It all started with two buttons.

Years ago, when I was an eager junior stenographer just limbering my fingers at the Fimbleton County DA’s office, I’d often combat the midday slump with a trip to the vending machine. My go-to pick-me-up? SnackWell’s Devil’s Food cookie cakes.

One afternoon, as I eagerly awaited the metal spiral to release my low-cal confection, I heard a voice behind me (and a bit above me) say,

“Sensible, yet sinful. We have that in common.”

In less time than it would take to say “sugar-free confection,” a woman as tall as I am frugal slipped four dimes and a nickel into the machine and pressed those magic buttons: B-6.

“Women who snack well, live well. Wouldn’t you agree?” she said as she grabbed the emerald green package and sashayed her way down the hall.

That woman was Christie Crampus-Klein, a paralegal for the DA’s office and a vision in electric tangerine. We would meet at that same vending machine countless more times (only straying from our usual order to split a package of Lorna Doone’s (C-4) on certain Fridays). We quickly became each other’s best friends, outlet-shopping partners, matinee buddies, and cocktail companions.

That was over three decades ago and here we stand today – mature, established, and as feisty as ever. And based on how we’ve spent our first days of vacation, I can’t wait to keep singing, laughing, and, of course, snacking with my oldest friend.