Blahhhhhhzayyyyyyy

How was everybody's weekend?  Mine was lovely.  Busy, but satisfying.

I finally reconnected with D, though not nearly enough!  We need some girl time.  But we had a fun, fun time drinking bailey's and sharing laughs.

I put up and decorated my mother's christmas tree, which inspired me to do my own later that night!  I'll have pics up soon.  I am happy to see it up; i skipped christmas last year so this feels nice and special to me.

Inane.  Inane and banal and bleck bleck bleck.  I'm mostly forcing myself to write this update because of my vow to myself to write.  i've been falling behind. Busy, lazy, uninspired, distracted--- you pick the excuse.

I want to be wise and witty and be able to comment on things that matter.  I want to inspire and expound and philosphize.  where'd my edge go?  Where'd my voice go?  Lately I feel like a bag full of jejune, vacuous, insipid nothingness.

Grrrrr.

But I'll post pics of my tree this week hopefully.  and my knitting, which is coming along. 

I think i'mma post some writing tonight.  Maybe that'll make me feel slightly better about my contributions to this world.  If only very, very slightly. 

BESTSELLER!

I wanna direct you over to Andrea's Blog, as she has had an eventful and exciting day!!!

New York Times Best Seller List!!

So thrilling and exciting!  

Congratulations Lady!

(Buy it ?!?!?!? Yumm!) 

 

***Celebrate the creative, amazing, hardworking, motivated, always-moving-forward-and-not-looking-back friends in your life!!***

On that note, I'd also like to wish Danielle and Emily the absolute best wishes and luck as they slog on toward the end of their respective semesters!  You inspire me and make my heart so full of wonder and warmth!

The women in my life are amazing.

Goddamn Phony

Today I'm subbing a few english classes, and their assignment is to trace Holdn Caulfield's "I am..." statements.

The young man is chaulk full of 'I am' statements.  As are we all, right?  Salinger's tale is in essence a precurser to the modern blog, am I right?  Obviously it is more artful and it is, afterall, a narrative where most of our blogs meander and don't necessariily add up to a sum total of a story, but it is designed to feel like that, isn't it?  Like a journal or a diary?

I think it would be fun to imagine Holden Caulfield with a facebook or a twitter account.

HOLDEN CAULFIELD is so pissed off with these goddamn phonies right now...

Anywho.

Better Bean tonight, which makes me smile. :)  Morning sex this AM, which made me grin. =D
Halfway through the week, which is so fantabulous I can't even quite grasp it.

There are alot of confusing and toublesome things going on in my life right now.  Alot of mixed messages and half-truths and evasive manuevers going on, which are making ripples in my pool of calm.  But what can I do?  All I can do is my best to respond with grace and humility.

Life has been so busy and hectic that I seem to be losing touch with people who mean a great deal to me.  I need to figure out a solution for this.  Maybe I'll brainstorm.  Or get a hell of alot better at managing my schedule.  But I am only one half of the problem-- the loved ones have busy lives too.

Gotta run.

Maybe later I'll chat about how abysmal my writing is becoming lately.  Saccharine and flaccid and yawn-enducing.  i think I might need to kill someone or something.  I'm too fond of these characters, and need to shake up their little lives some more.

I seriously wrote a scene the other day where Nolan tells Zahra he loves her for the first time. Sweet right?  yeah, and that's all it was.  sweet.  it was a goddamn daydream written down on paper.  No merit at all, just my heart having little fantasies of lovey dovey bullshit.

It was sweet though :)

Worst update ever... lol

I almost went to the hospital last night, or in the wee hours of the AM.  i was in crazy pain.  Felt like I was going to hatch an alien monster right out of my solar plexus.  This sounds familiar?  Yeah.  This time last year Aaron had the exact same thing happen, and we did go the ER, they didn't really do much and were never really able to give any solid answers, so that, plus the fact that I am stubborn irish, made me refuse to get out of bed in the middle of a bone-chilling december night and drive to the cess pool that is an emergency room in brockton at that hour of the night in the winter.  No effing thanks.

I took gas x and mylanta and was eventually too exhausted to fight the pain anymore and fell to sleep.  My chest cavity still feels tender today, but I have survived.

However, as a result of my fretful night I am dead on my feet today.   Thank the blessings of fate that my ISS duty was light and pretty easy today!

And Aaron has offered to do dinner, so here I sit, fighting my exhaustion headache and typing my heart out.

I have started reading Eat, Pray, Love.  I am really enjoying it.  The tone, the syntax, her style, and the subject matter all re really grabbing me.

I always get a little discouraged when I read really good writing because it inevitably causes me to hold the mirror up and invariably my own work pales in comparison, so then I'm hard on myself and grumpy and petulant for days.

But nowadays I have only to remind myself that I don't write to be a good writer (though I hope I'm building toward that goal slowly but surely), I write because /i must, because I enjoy it, because I may even, gasp, i may just love to do it.

I'm not in a contest with anyone.  

Ok. headache is going to stop me from further posting.

Night!

Pie?

Whoa!  Almost overslept this morning!

mondays. 

Erg.

I haven't really written my fiction in a while.  I think i am struggling to find a good routine.  Currently Eric isn't here and it feels like this time of day could possibly work, provided he's not here.  His vibe just kills my will to create.

But can't all be eric.  i am very tired at the end of the day.  very.  And there's dinner to be made, and bonding time with the hubs, and just plain veg-time. 

I have been writing longhand at work most days, as I'm sure i've mentioned.  But these are short bursts, usually interrupted, incomplete, sketchy and very rough.  And they will need to be typed at a date tbd, and ugh!  i'm thinking if only I had a lil netbook, that might be a solution.  Since i can have the netbook in school, can tote it to coffee shops, can squirrel myself up in my loft bed. 

Unfortunately 'money crunch' would be a laughable euphemism at present, so I'm not sure i can swing a netbook.

Such is life.

I have made a vegetarian shepherd's pie for dinner tonight.  But here's the deal:  i have never had a shepherd's pie before, not even when i was a carnivore, and i didn't go by a recipe, so... I just sort of made it up.  It is cooling to a temperature that is not so molten and then we shall try it and see!  There's always pasta if it's too inedible.

Reminds me of Agador from The birdcage!  "i made it up, i made it up!!"  Here's a clip reel of agador spartacus for you!  the moment I am thinking of is at 1 minute in.  but I'm sure all the clips are wonderfully droll!

Savers Sunday!

Had a great day today!  Woke up in the wee hours of the morning to some fabulous impromptu cunnilingus from my husband, which is a wonderful thing, and that set the tone for the rest of my sunday.  (In case anyone's keeping track, Eric wasn't home for this one, so I was able to scream and moan to my heart's content.  Sorry neighbors :)

Morning involved some errands, including bringing in wood at the folks' and aaron up on the roof doing manly roof things.

Then my fun day of girly things!  i got all dolled up, swoop bangs and everything, and went out shopping and to late lunch with andrea.  She is also re-teaching me to knit, since I managed to learn ALL WRONG back in the day.  So I am going to put some practice hours in on the old knit,purl.

*My piece will be this pattern knit knit, purl purl, but the above pictured is not my piece.  I will show pictures as I progress!

Savers, the cool thrift store we went to, was fun!  And clean!  I got books, a cardigan, electric yellow ballet flats, a pie plate (mine keep disappearing at an alarming rate), and an orange banana hanger!
And I almost impulse-bought an awesome old chair that was just dripping in personality, panache, and pizazz!  Almost, but, as they say, no cigar.

New Yellow Shoes

I wish the weekend would never end.  Tomorrow it is back to the grind.  I am thankful to have a job.  I am blessed to have two jobs and a great husband and wonderful friends.

but weekends could stand to be longer.

Ok, gotta go rinse this mint julep maske of the old pate.  (winter makes my skin even more sensitive and outrageous than normal!)

g'night.

Elevensies?

Good morning!

I am one relaxed chica this morning :)

Not only did I take time out of my grim day of financial turmoiil yesterday to give myself some self-love (5 times, each one different and unique!  it was a veritable sampler box of orgasms!), but this morning my husband decided to put his finger on the button and just keep pushing the envelope until I quite literally couldn't take another second.

10 fucking times.  Ten.  Plus one more aftershock as I lay there, joints like jello, everything relaxing into oblivion.  One more just worked itself up because of how crazy my pulse was down there. 

Jesus, right?

Yeah.  This is not the norm.  Coming sure is, but fucking 11 in one little morning?  I didn't think I'd ever get up and outta bed, I was content to die right there.

Then we snuck downstairs and fucked in our old downstairs apartment so that the final ratio was 11:1.  heeeheeeheee.  but he seems perfectly satisfied.  And I am a happy, happy lady.

And i'm pretty sure, despite my best efforts and despite the pillow pressed over my face, I'm pretty certain Eric heard me at least some of the time.  :(  wahmp-wahmp.  Oh wellz.  Maybe it'll make him want to move out faster?

Oh GOD!  What a fantastic way to begin my day, my weekend, my morning.

I feel like a choir of angels are singing in bright, open harmony, with birds and flowers and streaming rays of sunny sunshine with white fluffy clouds and clear blue skies.

sigh of content.

Now off to get my car inspected :( 

oh well.  I'mm smile the whole way.

I called out

Sorry I missed posting yesterday, Thursdays are very busy days for me and I'm out of the house longer than on the other days.  My promise to myself to write every day remains unblemished, however, since thursdays are in-School-Suspension days and I was stuck in a forced-quiet room alll day with hours to occupy.  I wrote long hand, as I always do at BHS, but I wrote.

One of the longhand scenes I've been cooking up is one involving Viola's guidance counselor, who grows concerned at Viola's sudden drop in grades and at the girl's rather counter-culture essay about Oedipus... lol.  We shall see how this all plays out, but I'm having fun with it.

Andrea blogged a few days ago about first lines of novels.  I too am enamored of good first lines.  I like to try to make my vignettes start off with a nice intruiging hook whenever possible.  The thing that's fun about vignettes is that they are these little encapsulated moments, usually, so you get to start right in with the action if you want, so I can't tell you how many of my scenes begin with an expletive! heeeheeeheee.  "What the fuck?!"  Interrobang?!

Or else sneaky little lines that (i hope) grab your attention and set the tone for the scene.  For instance, the guidance counselor one is introducing a new character as well as taking us on a new path with the Viola\Jonah thing, so I think it'll start something like this, something simple but quirk-of-eyebrow:

Enid Germain had suspicions.

Then it obviously elaborates, unraveling slowly, building; who is she, why does she suspect and what are these suspicions?

Fun stuff.

I was thinking I might go back through the vignettes and try and determine my top 5 favorite first lines so far.

But!  as for compliling all this madness into a novel?  Still no solid plans on that.  Where would I start?  Eeeksandwich.  And then, don't even get me started on the pressure of a first line for an entire novel.  God.  Probably it would be the one that I wrote for Viola on the swingset, remember that one?  "Everyone in Cedar Falls has secrets"  or something to that effect.

or maybe it would be this post secret I read once and saved:  "Terrible secrets don't make terrible people."  but then I'd probably wonder "Or do they?"  Lol. 

Andrea was right in saying you can't rush it or force it and it will come when it comes (terrible paraphrasing, sorry.)

Gah!

Anyway, i have called out for my first time from my new job.  And will be calling out of aftercare too.  Today is the day I begin to tackle the mountain of debt and problems I have.

here's the catch though:  I need an empty apartment to make all these calls, deal with all these forms and generally get a handle on my life.  I cannot do it with other people here, listening, hearing my vulnerability.  And Eric came back from his attempt to escape the world last night.  So he is here.  still asleep.  and I need him out out out.  i will be waking him up at 8:45-9 am.  And telling him the truth; that I need the apartment to myself today.  I am like, sick over this, but I need to do it, because I can't call out another fucking day to do this bullshit.  Wish me luck with that.

I'd like to give a shout out to my bestie, D, and her family, as it seems they are finally emerging from a miserable bout of illness.  We love you and hope you are well!  Miss you GF!

And happy hannukah!  Aaron and I had latkes for dinner last night.  yum. 

Listy Lists

The Eric thing has taken a weird turn. More later.

Right now I need to get to bed.

Not much in a writey mood.

So let's do this instead:

Listy Things I can list from memory:

50 (nifty united) states

All the US presidents

Colors of the rainbow

Planets (and pluto)

Probably anything listy Star Wars related

All 7 Harry Potter books (and various listy things contained therein; i.e.: DADA professors, Horcruxes, weasley children, etc etc etc)

Continents

Great Lakes

U2 albums

The 7 Dwarves (harder than you'd think... try it... don't cheat!)

The seven deadly sins

The major american armed conflicts

The gospel writers

The ten commandments (usually...)

The members of the Brady bunch

The Von Trapp Children

the signs of the zodiac

sol fege (do, re, mi)

The helping verbs

Listy Things I would like to be able to list from memory(and endeavor to learn sooooon):

State Capitals (i now know them, but haven't got a handy way to recite them.)

Kings & Queens of England (I was working on that and almost had it a couple summers back... maybe I'll dust off the ole list and try it again.)

Countries of the world

Shakespeare's Plays

Musicals by prolific composers

The circles of hell according to Dante

All the major religions

The provinces of canada (and the capitals)

The first ladies (I know many of these)

The vice presidents

countries in the EU

Listy things I am less interested in being able to list, but would likely come in handy on Jeopardy or in a trivia competition:

Sports teams & mascots

Books of the bible

The twelve apostles

the periodic table of the elements\ at least the noble gasses

Every Academy award Best Picture winner

(or any major category, really...)

The supreme court judges

Civil war battles\civil war generals\anything fucking civil war related...

The ships bombed in pearl harbor

The fibonacci sequence

Ok, that was a bit like counting sheep, so off to bed with me. I'm sure I'll think of more for each category! Any suggestions? I love learning listy factoids. Especially If i can figure out how to set them to a catchy tune!

Long Night; 13

This is the last one I have written. of the long night stuff, that is, not the last vignette ever, oh my goodness, no. I have plenty of other shit yet to come!

But this is the last bit of that dinner, though it certainly leaves the dinner incomplete. But, If I want to move on i figured I'd better go ahead and post this, finished or not.

So enjoy!

************

“Mr. Delaney?” 

Jonah dragged his eyes away from Viola, feeling a mixture of irritation and shame.  It wasn’t the first time that evening that he’d been more or less caught staring at his teenage daughter.  He swallowed, adjusted his glasses automatically, and pulled his expression into one of polite interest for his daughter-in-law.

“Yes, Maggie?”  He asked genially.  “You don’t have to call me that, by the way, Jonah is just fine.” 

She smiled shyly, though Jonah suspected that outside of the Delaney mansion she probably wasn’t half so timid and skittish.  She had to have a spine of steel to have wrangled Grey into that gold band, after all.  His smile deepened at the thought.

“May I ask—do you have any photos from Grey’s christening?”

Jonah didn’t know what he’d expected her to ask, maybe perhaps ‘would you pass the peas’, but nothing even remotely in the realm of what she’d just asked.  He blinked several times.

“Because I didn’t see any in the beautiful album Mrs. Delaney gave to me—“ she pressed gently when he failed to respond.

Jonah smiled once again, but his mind was reeling.  Grey’s christening?  So many lines of thought were jockeying for position in his head he found it most difficult to form a verbal response.  That day had been awful.  He hadn’t even wanted to christen the boy.  He eschewed organized religion and Velvet had expressed her ambivalence about the archaic ritual as well, but then, everybody has parents and aunts and even grandparents, each with firm beliefs on the subject, each with sets of vocal chords that never seem to rattle louder or more incessantly than when they’re lecturing you on how to raise your first child.

“Photos.”  He said ponderously, hoping his mask resembled an aging father trying to recall if they had such an album and where it might be.  “Hmm.”  Out of the corner of his eye he caught her fiddling with the saint at her neck.  She was nervous.  He sensed she wasn’t  interested in the photos at all.  Not really.  She needed to know if her new husband had been baptized a Christian.  Jonah’d studied the world’s major religions for years, which is how he’d settled on his own agnostic tendencies. 

His new daughter-in-law needed to know if she could make the sacrament with Grey before a priest.  Jonah groaned inwardly at the thought of this poor little thing dragging his recalcitrant son off to a chapel and coercing him into a ritual he would neither respect nor adhere to.  But, he reminded himself, it had been Grey that had offered.  It had been his son who had, unprompted, made the willing concession to recite vows once again before the Ramirez’s family priest.

“I’d ask Grey’s mother, but she’s already put together such a wonderful photo collection, I don’t want her to think I’m ungrateful or that it’s wanting for anything.”  The young woman rushed, rather self-consciously.

Jonah nodded conspiratorially.  “Of course, of course.”  He said, and made a ‘don’t worry about a thing’ hand gesture.  “But between you and me, I’d bet money that the album she gave you will be but the first volume in a series.”  He winked and chuckled, which seemed to put Maggie at better ease.

But she was still waiting.  Nervously.  Her whole world hinging on how he responded to her disguised inquiry.

Jonah reached for his wine and took a long sip to but himself time to formulate a response.  Because the truth was, he couldn’t be sure the ceremony had been successfully completed.  He didn’t know for sure if Grey had been baptized properly or not.  Because he hadn’t been there.  Because he and Nolan had had to escort a certain person from the premises about midway through the blessed event.  And it had been quite an uproar.  A scuffle.  It had stopped the ceremony dead, as he recalled.

And no.  He didn’t believe there were any photos around of that delightful little incident.

Maybe his mother had kept some?  But those would have been lost in the fire.

“You know what, I don’t know if we have photos handy—I’m never sure where Velvet squirrels these things away, but I could probably put my hands on the christening gown.”  He offered as a consolation. 

Her eyes widened a bit, before washing over troubled.  She bit her lower lip.

Jonah wondered if she’d have her baby baptized in Grey’s gown or if she had her own family heirloom for the eventual occasion.  “He was baptized at First Presbyterian on Sycamore.”  Jonah added helpfully.  “Do you need a certificate, or, um, something to that effect?”  He was educated enough to know that Grey would need to be a baptized Christian in order for the church to recognize their union, but he hadn’t studied deeply enough to have a grasp on the particulars of paperwork and other clerical requirements.

He studied her reaction carefully.  She flushed lightly and looked quickly away from him, first across to where Grey sat and then down to her plate.  Her dark eyebrows drew together in distress and she seemed to force her hand from their habitual spinning of the little medallion.  When she’d taken a breath and folded her hands neatly in her lap, she pulled her spine up, sat a little taller and then smiled pleasantly at him once more, her chin higher than before, her chocolate gaze clear and direct.

“I believe that would be a great help.”  She answered frankly.  “The record, I mean, more than the gown.”

His mouth took on a wry curve.  “You can have the gown when you find you have the need.”  He told her gently.  “But yes, I can understand that the document would be more useful in the immediate.”

“Right Dad?”  a voice was pressing, sounding as though maybe they’d already asked once or twice, trying vainly to capture his attention.  Jonah became aware that his end of the table had become very quiet and several pairs of eyes were fixed intently on him, awaiting some response.

He glanced around, an apologetic little smile in place.  “I’m so sorry, I was chattering away over here—what was the question?”

It was Avalon who spoke again, looking miffed and icy when she repeated her assertion about folk lore and wedding customs, looking to him for confirmation.  He smiled and nodded, confirmed what she’d said and then added some factoid of trivia about colonial brides and antiquated marriage law, and then the onus of the figurative spotlight passed from him once again. 

When he turned to continue his discussion with Maggie he found she’d been pulled into a rather animated conversation with Keer and Genny about some tween heartthrob or other and a scandalous celebrity wedding.

So his eyes went back to where they’d been before she’d ventured her veiled request for Grey’s baptismal record.  He lifted his wine to his lips once more and let his gaze slide slowly over Viola, who was seated at a comfortably significant distance from him this evening.  Not by her choice of course.  With so many guests her mother had made place cards and everyone knew there was to be absolutely no switching around.  Velvet Delaney was a sweet, gentle, kind-as-can-be lady, but it was a well known household dictum to avoid foiling, either intentionally or through careless accident, her plans for a proper dinner party.

One did everything one could possibly do to ensure Velvet’s best laid plans went off without impediment or detour.   Or one suffered days and days of lamentation and woe over the failed or botched event.  Suffered hours on end of hearing about how it had all been planned perfectly but then somehow it had all, misery of miseries, gone horribly wrong!

So Viola sat where her mother had assigned her, a careful and deliberate placement made on the predication of a carefully calculated algorithm of Velvet’s design, which took into account personality types, conversation style, gender, age, and the ability to tolerate Celia, among other factors known only to Velvet herself.

And he rather liked the distance for conflicting reasons.  For one, he was able to relax a little, knowing her foot would not find his below the table.  Breathe easier without her constant and cloying attention.  Think more clearly because she wasn’t near enough for him to smell her, to watch closely the mesmerizing rise and fall of her small but perfect breasts, to feel the pulsing need pouring off her, clouding his brain with relentless and wicked pheromones that muddled everything up completely.

He also couldn’t deny that at this distance he was able to appreciate how perfectly fucking adorable and gorgeous and delicious she looked this evening.  And, in a sort of circle of reasoning, he was once again glad of the forced distance and barrier between their bodies.

He glanced around the table quickly to make sure he wasn’t being watched.  He’d just about made it back around to Viola when he caught his brother’s curious and stormy stare.  Fuck.  He lowered the wine glass enough to flash Nolan a smile.

Nolan didn’t smile back immediately.  Instead he lowered his brow slightly and squinted a little. 

Jonah pointed at his glass and nodded appreciatively as if to say: ‘This is great wine you brought! Thanks!’

Nolan blinked, hesitated, and then nodded in return with a friendly-enough smile.

Christ.  Jonah looked determinedly in the opposite direction of his youngest daughter and his too keenly observant brother. 

He could hear his mother-in-law making some critical comment about the lamb, and he tried not to listen. 

“When?”  He asked Maggie when she finally emerged from the thrilling (to Keer anyway) debate over pubescent nickelodeon stars. 

She sipped her water gingerly.  Was she still struggling with nausea at this point?  He scanned her plate.  She seemed to have eaten well enough, though certainly not with much gusto.  She was forcing it down to be polite.

“When is the—“  He wasn’t quite sure of the appropriate term for a redundant wedding.  “When will you make the sacrament?”  He asked, sounding more like he was asking if he’d said that right than about the event.

“Tomorrow.”  She replied with a grateful smile.  He couldn’t read whether he’d got the phrasing right, but at least he hadn’t screwed it up to the point of offense.

Tomorrow. 

“Oh.”  He said, not able to mask the surprise.  “Should we, I mean, should Velvet and I?  Did you tell us?  That is, was Grey supposed to let us know—“

Now she blushed again.  “It won’t be, um, we aren’t doing anything grand at all.”  She apologized.  “It will be sort of, private?”  She searched the air in front of her for a better way to explain.

“A quiet ceremony?”  He helped gently.

“Not even really a ceremony, more a, well.”  She sighed.  “It’ll be fulfilling an obligation.  No frills.  Nothing fancy.”  She admitted. 

Jonah nodded and pushed a piece of asparagus around on his plate idly.  She wasn’t the only one struggling with nausea and lack of appetite.  Though his sickness was much more grim and unnatural.  His eyes flicked to Viola once again and her eyes flicked up at the same time.  She smiled slyly and tossed her hair over her shoulder to better display her slim white neck to him.  He forced his attention back to Maggie.

“Velvet will be devastated if she learns there was any kind of ceremony for the two of you, and we’d somehow missed it.”  He said bluntly.  He might have tried harder to couch that in more delicate terms.  Afterall, he was basically inviting himself to a religious ceremony to which, it seemed, neither the bride nor the groom had intended to extend a welcome.

The girl looked mortified.  Jonah felt guilty. 

“Of course you can—I’m so sorry that we didn’t—I didn’t think you’d want to—because, well, you aren’t catholic—and it isn’t going to be anything grand or—I’m so sorry, how thoughtless of me—“

Jonah opened his mouth to apologize and reassure the girl when he heard his name being called again. 

“Dad.”  The voice said firmly.  He glanced over.  It was Grey this time.  And he looked bullshit.  His eyes jumped from Maggie to Jonah and back again.  Jonah could almost hear the ‘what the fuck?’ reverberating in his son’s mind.  Maggie looked more than a little distressed, and Grey was too many seats away to know why, or how to fix it, but he looked like he had no trouble pinning the blame on his old man.

Jonah heaved a heavy sigh.  He hastened to soothe Maggie, assure her that everything was alright, that she hadn’t offended at all , and that there was no need to tell Velvet about the wedding service.  He did this all with Grey’s pale green eyes boring furious holes into the side of his skull, and Maggie’s wide chocolate irises washing over with the threat of tears, and Viola’s electric purple stare daring him to look her way, and Nolan’s curious, heck, downright suspicious stormy blue gaze monitoring most everything Jonah did. 

This evening was proving to be even longer than he’d dreaded.

Long Night; Part 12

Ay Dios Mio.  Remember my writing?  It emerges once more.

I went back and forth on this one.  Wasn't sure I wanted to reveal what I reveal here, but.  Well.  What the hell?

In case you can't remember what in the hell is going on, go back and peruse this one (long night 7) real quick.  Of course you are free to read all the entries about The Long Night, but the above mentioned should get you pretty well up to speed for this week's installment.

As ever, enjoy.

********************

Grey closed the door after Viola and stared Maggie down. 

She looked shocked and confused and a little disgusted.  “You use drugs?”

Grey shrugged.

Maggie frowned and studied him carefully.  “How often?”

Grey rolled his eyes and pushed off the door, past his wife, and headed for his closet without responding.

“Grey?”  She sounded sharp and edgy.

Still he ignored her.  He was all kinds of pissed off, and he knew himself well enough to recognize that in this mood anything that came out of his mouth at present would be hurtful, spiteful, cruel, and entirely unnecessary.  So he kept his trap shut.  He needed to get them both through this charade, and for that he needed to make sure Maggie didn’t run crying from the house.

He moved quickly once in the large walk-in closet.  He moved to the shoe collection, ran his finger down the neat rows, and automatically removed the last pair on the left.  He reached deftly into the now empty space and slid a small piece of false backing to the side, revealing a shallow cubby he’d hollowed out of the wall when he was sixteen. 

He could feel her watching him, but it couldn’t be helped.

With an enormous sigh of relief his fingers seized upon the small tin he’d left there, forgotten, for years.  With his eyes closed he pulled it from the secret hole, replaced the innocuous false back, and carefully rearranged the shoes to look as though they hadn’t been bothered with at all.

He quickly opened the tin to make sure the contraband was still within, then snapped the lid back on and pocketed it smoothly.

Maggie was staring at him, puzzled and very clearly upset with him.

“The shit she found is mostly kid’s stuff.”  He snapped gruffly.  “I don’t want her getting a hold of this.”

Her eyes widened and she looked horrified.  “Grey—“

“Spare me the sanctimony.”  He rumbled.  “What I do, and what I’ve done is none of your concern.” 

She winced.

He suddenly wished he had simply told her the truth.  Explained that sure he’d done recreational drugs—he was rich and privileged and more than a bit of a rebel against his Dad’s wholesome upbringing.  He knew how to party and had been damn good at it. 

But that he hadn’t taken anything illegal in years.  He’d outgrown it.  He was over that.  Now he stuck to good liquor in large quantities, and, okay, maybe occasionally marijuana when it was around.  He didn’t need the hard stuff. 

But the look on her face just needled him and he felt the urge to scandalize her and push her buttons and tell her to go fuck her judgment and her disappointment.  What right did she have to look at him like he’d let her down?  She wasn’t his fucking mother.  She wasn’t anything to him.

Then why did he feel like a heel?  Why did he feel guilty and ashamed?

Fuck that.

“How are we on the trimesters—is now one of the bad times to experiment?”

She set her mouth in a grim line and turned on her heel to exit the closet.

He sighed.  He didn’t want to care what she thought about him. 

He followed her out of the closet, sourly wishing the night would hurry up and end, but knowing it had hardly even begun.  He snapped the closet light off and closed the closet door just as Viola reentered.

She looked from Maggie to Grey with a mischievous little smile playing around her eyes and lips.  She was way too fucking clever for her own good.  Grey was more than a little pissed with himself that he’d left his casual collection in a place where his little sister might get a hold of it.  Of course it had been well hidden and cleverly disguised, but he should have known better.  Viola had always been smart and curious and hell-bent on misbehaving.

“What were you doing in the closet?”

Maggie looked at the floor.

“Just a quickie.”  Grey responded.

Viola laughed appreciatively and Maggie glared at him.

“What’d you dig up?”  He asked his sister, shrugging off the prickling guilt that the sight of Maggie’s welling eyes had evoked.

Viola promptly held out a baggie of assorted pills.  It was nearly empty compared with how he knew he’d left it.  Goddamn hellion.  Jonah and Velvet had their hands full with this one and they likely didn’t even realize it.  Grey almost felt sorry for his Dad.  If the poor guy ever found out what his precious little girl was really like…

“I certainly hope you didn’t take the majority of it.”  He said sternly.

Viola giggled and cocked an eyebrow at him.  “What do you take me for?”  She challenged him.  “Do I look strung out?”

She looked healthy.  And alert.  And he’d never seen her looking anything but.  He held out his hand and she delivered the little baggie to it promptly.

“Losers weepers.”  He said and pocketed it.

“Hey!” 

Grey shrugged.  “Maybe if I could trust you not to be an idiot and sell them to your little classmates—“

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Why don’t you run and cry to Dad about it?”

She pouted and glared at him.

“I’m sorry, ok?”

“I don’t give a shit about your remorse.”  He said with a laugh.  “What the fuck good will ‘sorry’ do you if you get busted with intent to sell?”

She rolled her eyes and made a disgruntled noise.  “So, what?  Now you’re all grown up and married and suddenly you’re a fucking Narc?”

Grey smirked.  “Don’t get all pissy with me because you’ve been acting like an idiot.”

Viola huffed.  “Whatever.”

“Nice comeback.”

Viola opened her mouth to retort but Maggie spoke first.

“What happened to your cousin?”

The Delaney siblings turned in unison to face her.  That was a bucket of cold water, alright.

Grey exchanged a look with Viola.  He guessed his expression probably matched hers; sobered and chastened.

“Cole?”  Viola asked quietly.

Maggie looked at Grey.

“It was a car accident.”  He said gruffly.  “Nolan was driving.”

His wife gasped and covered her mouth.

“It wasn’t his fault—“  Viola interjected weakly.

“They were hit.”  Grey kept going.  “From outta nowhere by some asshole vacationer.”

Maggie looked pained and horrified.  Grey focused his eyes on the slim gold ring encircling the finger of her left hand, which was still pressed to her mouth.  He could still remember vividly the night his dad had told him about the accident.  Remember rushing to the hospital to wait, with everyone, to wait and what, pray?  Beg? 

Remember the way his aunt had fallen to her knees right there in the place they’d been asked to wait while a team of doctors had operated on his tiny cousin.  Had fallen to her knees on the monotonous green linoleum when the grim faced surgeon had emerged, Cole’s blood on him, and delivered the awful, unfathomable news.

“Was, the other driver--?”  Maggie whispered into the hush of Grey’s childhood bedroom.  She kept her hand over her mouth.

“He was drunk.”  Viola confirmed dully.  “He was fine, too—could have walked away from the crash with a scratch or two.”

A tear slipped from Maggie’s eyes, slipped right over the gold ring.

“He killed himself.”  Grey said emotionlessly.

Maggie wasn’t the only one to gasp at that.  Viola hadn’t known that.  That’s right, she’d been pretty young at the time.  Dad hadn’t told her about that. 

“What?”  Viola whispered.  “I thought he was in jail.”

Grey rolled his shoulders back.  “He couldn’t take the prospect of prison, or maybe he couldn’t take the guilt.”  He shrugged. 

Maggie sank to sit on the bed.  Viola wandered around the room, processing this.

There’d been no trial.  Been no justice, no closure, no peace.  Grey remembered the funeral.  Remembered his Uncle’s decline into madness.

“One of the worst parts was, the guy had bought all his booze at the shoppe earlier that day.”  Grey added after a few minutes.

“No.”  Said Maggie, shaking her head as if he must have his facts wrong.

“Nolan had sold the motherfucker an entire case.  Gave him the discount for buying twelve bottles.”

Maggie continued to shake her head and weep silently.

“They found six empty in his car.”

“He closed the shop.”  Viola added.  “For a while.”

“No more.”  Maggie choked out.  “I can’t hear any more.  Not now.”

Grey reached over and squeezed his little sister’s shoulder gently.  “Give us a minute?”

Viola nodded vaguely, staring at Maggie’s tearful display, and backed toward the door without comment.

When she’d gone, when the door clicked closed, Grey crossed to Maggie and opened his arms.  She shook her head and wiped at her face desperately.  He gathered her against him and she sobbed openly, wetting his shirt and blubbering what he suspected was a litany—in Spanish—of prayers for the dead.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and rubbed her back.  He wouldn’t have expected her to take it this hard—she hadn’t ever met Cole.  But she knew and obviously cared about Nolan, and… Grey closed his eyes.  And she had family, she could certainly imagine… and.  And she was going to be a mother soon.

He didn’t entertain the notion that her becoming a mother would mean that he’d become a father.  He focused on how she must be imagining what Zahra’d gone through.  Chalked it up to her over-active hormones and her powerful tendency toward sympathy and empathy.  He held her and said some kind things.  The things his Dad would say.  But he felt empty and hollow and lonely while she wept.  She felt warm and sweet and so fragile in his arms.  He wanted to lay her down on the bed and let her curl up next to him and weep until she fell asleep.  And he had no idea where such an impulse was springing from, which irritated him.

They stood there, in the middle of his childhood room, until she managed to get a hold of herself. 

He knew his family might suspect they’d been fooling around.  He wished that were the case. 

And when she pulled out of his arms, quietly thanking him for being patient, he washed over angry and cold.  He nodded curtly, gave her terse instructions on how to locate the nearest upstairs bathroom so she could freshen up, and he strode from the room.

When the fuck would this night be the fuck over?

Weekend interruptus

I haven't done any writing in some time.  Snippets, maybe, here and there, but nothing real.  Nothing worth saving or cultivating.

I believe the desire is still with me, to write, but something always seems to be getting in the way.  Mainly my own self, but also time, exhaustion, environment (I can BLOG when Eric is around, but I really haven't been able to do any creative writing...), etc.

So I allow myself to occupy the time by doing other, less challenging things.  I read.  I watch shows.  I play videogames  (these are fun and challenging, but not anywhere near the creative payoff I get from writing.)

Currently i'm re-reading Harry 7 (because the movie got me all jazzed), The Dexter Book (the first one, season one stuff;  I started reading it but had to stop because Aaron wants to read it together, which means we will never get through it.  Gone are the days of leisure that afforded us the luxury of reading an entire book together.  It used to be one of our favorite couple activities, which is why I think we're trying it again, but these days we're both so busy and then tired when we're done being busy that I despair of ever getting through it--and it is quite a short little novel too!)  And also The Sexual Life of Catherine M.  Which is very intriguing, but not work safe.  Maybe I'll make a little book cover for it so I can bring it to work, since it is physically a more manageable size than Potter and since I can no longer continue Dexter on my own.  we'll see.  Or maybe i'll just grab some Margaret Atwood book off the shelf and go with that.

What i should be reading is plays.  childrens plays. playsfor teens.  All that bullshit.  because i am, afterall, incharge of choosing and then producing 3-4 plays this year.  Gag me.  3 for starline and possibly one for aftercare, where I've been tapped to run a drama enrichment seminar beginning in january.  I want to stab my eyes out.

Why am i so completely uninterested in doing this shit anymore?  Maybe because so much children's theatre is shite, maybe, but maybe because my heart just isn't in it anymore.  Maybe I'll write something outrageous and inappropriate for them to perform like on arrested development.  Imagining my nine year olds talking about chlamydia makes me giggle.

I wish so painfully that Aaron and I had never fought this weekend.  I feel like at least two days are completely and irrevocably lost to all that terrible awfulness.  And now i feel unprepared for the next month I have to get through before the holiday break.

This month includes a fucking parents night at starline, which, my friends, is wayyy worse than friends week.  Friends week I get some extra kids to play with, try to make them have a good time and encourage them to join up.  Parents week?  yuck.  It feels like they come in and sit there and judge judge judge everything I do and say.  They are paying a good chunk of change to send their kids there, and they want to know if it is worth it.  grosssssss.    That's soon.  Not this week, but next??  I am so underprepared for that happy horseshit.

And then there's the fact that working these hours makes it nigh, yes nigh, impossible to see friends.  Friends.  Who make life worth slogging through.

I had to cancel a fun evening at my favorite new mexican place because of the bullshit with aaron.  And a fabulous movie date too.  I want those days back.

W.E.

And that thanksgiving??  The most unfulfilling, lame, perfunctory thanksgiving I have ever endured.  I kept regretting the decision to forgo our own veggie thanksgiving.  Regretting it bitterly.  I felt bereft and superfluous and untethered to any sense of family or belonging or purpose.  I don't believe aaron even understands the depth of it. My heart is heavy over it.  It was yet another wasted, useless day.

At least i didn't have to endure that reunion afterall. that was a small blessing. 

Sorry for the grumpy tude this morning.  It was one where i just did not want to get out of bed. pout pout fish.

I'm sure i'll snap out of it and cheer up.  It's just going to be a rough week; I have alot of financial bullshit to sort through (since that got shoved to the back burner due to the fragile state of my entire being this lovely weekend), plus we never had the time\balls\energy to have the big convo with our roomate--so that's still hanging over me, plus I likely won't have time to see Danielle at all for another whole week, plus i need to figure out a way to get my car inspected with no time to get it done, the list of eeyore blues just goes on and on folks.  When I'm in this sort of mood i am intolerable.  Yucky.  Maybe by writing it all down here i will have at least partly exorcised it?

Another thing that needs doing this week:  making an appointment to 'see someone'.  yup.  I wonder where that will fit into the jam-packed schedule that has become my life.

Oh, and does this make me selfish\crazy\unreasonable?  I have not had a moment alone in this house, not a fucking moment, in so long I can't even remember now.  Either Eric or Aaron are always always always here when i'm here.  Obviously I don't mind aaron so much (lol), except for this:  I have not been able to lay down and relax with my vibrator if fucking forever, and even though the sex I've been having have been awesome (it really has been good.  Orgasms, creativity, hawtness, all sorts of good things happening-- plus you can't beat the human connection), sometimes you just want to unwind, lube up, and go to town on your own, right?  Am I the only one?  Well, whatever.  It's the truth.  I want to have a lengthy, healthy, multi-multi0multi-orgasmic session all to myself.  Let my mind wander to all the naughty\lovely\risquee\forbidden\erotic\whatever imagery i want and just float away into oblivion.

Aaron hardly gets more time alone here either, but he gets some, but either way he insists it doesn't bother him so much.  He hasn't masturbated in forever, no alone anyway.  He says it holds no interest for him.  He gets regular and very pleasing sex, so jerking off isn't necessary.  I don't know what it feels like to have a penis and to jerk off, and although I agree that I am sexually satisfied and don't NEED to masturbate... I kinda fucking want to.

TMI.  Way too much.  Thank christ hardly anyone reads this, and this isn't stuff I wouldn't share with you guys anyway ;)

Ok.  Off to work with me.  Feeling slightly better, having got some of that heaviness off my chest.

I need a coffee, a hug, an ear to bend, and a real vacation.  And some time alone with my battery-operated pal.

Tarot Reading

At the dinner party last weekend aaron and I hadn our tarot reading done.

We both got this unpleasantness:

Which is a groundshaking, game-changer that you can't possibly see coming.  (all I kept thinking was:  Well, if I can imagine a pregnancy at least it won't be a pregnancy!)

This week we fell to pieces.  Ground shaking, game-changing pieces. 

It was quite terrifying.  honestly.

I'm hoping that the worst has passed, and that there's no more evil tower in store for us.  (Or unexpected pregnancies!)

However, i must say, in doing a google image search for the tower card image (none of them, incidentally, seemed quite as threatening or ominous as did the one in andrea's beautiful deck), i came accross one that made me smile.  Oh, sure, i know it's supposed to conjure all kinds of dire implications and shadows of patriarchy and sexual dominance and power and whatnot, but the thirteen year old girl inside me couldn't help but ghasp and giggle and then look closer... hmmmmmm....

anyway.  How's this for a threatening tower?

 

See more of this intriguing and sexually-charged deck here: Nudie Tarot ;)

The artwork is rather arresting...

A bundle of nerves.

Tonight is the WeeBee ten year class reunion.

I was talked in to attending, despite my mounting anxiety.

Now I have to go without one of my best friends.  

I am nervous and shaky and things are still feeling fragile with Aaron and to go to this tonight is making me a little manic.  

Things happen.  I get it.  But.  

I'm so worked up about this now.  Ugh.

Now the number of people I want to see there numbers like, three?  Four maybe?

And only really one in particular ;)

But I'm feeling so tense and insane about it at this moment.  Grumblecakes...

And what will I even wear?

I need to relax.

Because I am going to see someone that i very much want to hang out with.  And that makes it worth it.  And we can leave whenever I want.  And i will likely have some sangria before I go.

Fuck it.

Maybe a good amount of sangria. 

But i don't want to be sloppy.  I want to be on my game.  I don't wanna be 'that' person.

But seriously.  What am i going to wear?

Thanksgiving.

I'm still here.

It feels shaky, it feels tentative, it feels weary and cautious and all so touch-and-go.

Today is thanksgiving.

I am thankful for the love of my dearest friends.  I am thankful that Aaron and i still seem to have love, despite us reaching a point yesterday which I believed there could be no coming back from.

I'm still not convinced.  But we'll see.

I hope it's not always this feeling of holding my breath.

So my marriage ended today.

Over.

I plan on telling my parents that I'm moving back in when I visit for thanksgiving tomorrow.

As for the rest of it? 

No clue.

i mean clearly, right?  Because I'm blogging about it instead of doing something productive.

It is over, and I feel dead.

Half my life with the same person.  Done.

Where do you go from there?

You don't really.  I don't think.

Fruesday?

Aaron called yesterday mondursday, since it was technically a monday but simultaneously the second-to-last day of the workweek this week.  So today is sorta a fruesday, right?  TGIfruesday. 

One bad thing:  In School Suspension day.  Last time went so horribly that I entertained quitting the job I just aquired.  No good terrible horrible very bad indeed. 

Also I am just so tired I feel like I could curl up and sleep right through this whole extended weekend we have coming. 

So right after I decided (after some advice from friends:), to go ahead with my plans for my first vegetarian thanksgiving, my very first thanksgiving on my own as an adult, with my husband, something that means a heck of alot to me, right after I decided to make it happen--guess what?  Fucking eric's schedule changes and he is now miraculously available to make it to gramma's by noonish, which means now Aaron wants to make it to gramma's for noonish and my whole fucking day gets tossed out the window. 

So I'm back to the bleak prospect of attending a thanksgiving I am not invested in, that I do not care about, that I, infact, sort of resent.  With a whole passel of people I honestly could not be bothered to see again if they were not my inlaws.  Seriously.  And I sincerely don't mind if that sentiment makes me callous or awful.  It is the truth.

So we're doing that.  And Then Mum's for desert later on, which is only mildly more tolerable.

I'm over the whole blood relative thing.  Well.  I love my brothers and sisters still, at this point, and probably wouldn't mind a thanksgiving with them.  But they all have their inlaws to do.  So i guess it is only fair to let aaron spend his thanksgiving with his fucking brother, huh?

Whatever.  You all know me, right?  ou know how clearly my face telegraphs my inner monolgue?  I have to get myself in a cheerful frame of mind wuick, or thanksgiving is going to be a bitch-face extravaganza!

Something fun to look forward to:  The movies on friday :)  so happy.

And then that damned reunion.  I'mma approach it as a fun little social experiment and hope I don't say awful things to anyone.  heeeheehee. 

Oh and can I just say?  I doubt any of you have ever been addicted to a videogame, but when you are a gamer and you purchase a brand new video game?  You think about it all day at work, for real, and all you want to do is come home and play said purchase.  That is the way it is.  It may not be lovely, or glamourous, or even socially kosher, but it is what it is.  The new game is more important than sustinence, sex, and most niggling responsibilities.  It overshadows all the other activities that you normally engage in for recreation.  It is a siren song, a golden fleece, an obsessive crush.

This glow lasts for just a little while, really, just a fleeting and thrilling time before you either beat the game (for the first time), or get accustomed to playing it.  But while it lasts it grips you in a singlemindedness that is fierce and powerful.

And other gamers know this, have felt it, and ought to respect it.

Did you see me go anywhere near that Xbox when aaron and Eric pourchased Halo Reach?  Did you? hm? 

NO.  i did not.  I wouldn't dream of meddling with the new-game-fever of a pair of gamers.  Out of respect.  Out of courtesy.  i mean, someone lays a good chunk of hard-earned change on the counter for said game, and they have clearly been looking forward to playing, then why the fuck would I ever dream of hogging Xbox hours at that time?

Yeah.

I think you can guess.

I come home, after a long ass work day-- a day punctuated with very few highlights (but those few are precious to me and made me smile quite a bit), tired, downtrodden, strained, and all I want to do is dfisappear into the vivid fantasy of being a magical queen or whatever, and guessthefuckwhat?

yeah.  I actually don't really want to talk about it. 

But the part that pisses me off is that Aaron says I have no one to blame but myself for not kicking him off the xbox.  Really?  And say that I do, just suppose I come home and am like:  Listen Eric, get the fuck off the box, I got a darkness to fight and a kingdom to save!

Suppose i do this?  what then, praytell, does my bortherinlaw do with himself then?  Aaron is on the computer, and it seems to me that besides xbox and computer, the kid has no other hobbies to occupy his time.  So then I'll be trying to enjoy my game while dealing with the passive agressive huffs and sighs of a bored person who has no means of just getting up and out of the house for a while on his own. 

Gross.  And the house is too small, way too small for that bullshit.

And there is no fucking way I want him using my laptop.  I can't say why precisely, but I do not.  It is my personal computer and I don't want him near it.  I kinda hate when he uses my phone and I try to avoid letting him do that too, because it's like:  GET YOUR OWN FUCKING PHONE.

And guess what?  He isn't going to work today.  I swear, I think that kid has maybe worked one full week of work since he got this job.  UGH!  he pisses me off so the fuck much.  So he'll be here all day, fucking off, nursing this imagainary sickness he's suffering from (laziness and can't-handle-the-real-grown-up-world-itis), and playing his fucking videogame al the livelong day.

So yeah.  When I get home this evening, you bet your fucking ass I'm kicking him off the system.  And No, he's not using my laptop, and no, he's not using my phone, and I don't even give a fuck.

Wow.  hostility.  And now i'mma be late for work.

oh fruesday.

Catch ya on the flip.

So this happened...

And that is why I fell off the planet.  

Sorry wells fargo, sallie mae, wachovia, bank of america, citibank, suntrust, AES, lane bryant, notheastern, the US government, mom, and whoever else I was supposed to deal with this weekend.  Sorry, too, to all the residents of Cedar Falls, USA; I know your lives wait for me... but a new game came out!


And I truly regret the sorry state of my home at present.  It is a wreck, and it doesn't smell too lovely either...


And this is why I entertain the notion of maybe not having kids at all...





I did manage to feed the cats.  Feeding ourselves went less successfully.




And today I have to leave the vividly imagined and wartorn world of Albion behind and get my lazy ass to work.  


Continuing with the lazy sloth motif, I've decided not to do anything about thankisgiving.  Much in the same way I did nothing about St. Patrick's day.  I'mma just go to the BHS football game, go to Gramma's, Got to Mum's, and not give a flying fuck about any of it.  That sounded unpleasant.  


Aaron says we'll plan on doing our own vegetarian thing next year.  Meh.


At this point I think I'd rather go with his other, more outlandish idea:  Change the thanksgiving holiday to Second Halloween!  Costumes, haunted things, ghost hunts and so many days off to celebrate properly! 


Seems like more fun than trying to replace turkey on a day centered around turkey...


Oh, right, sorry.  Thanksgiving is about family, right?  Is that why Gramma says we have to eat strictly at noon because the patriots are on at 12:30 and once that magical minute ticks into place we lose half the members of the family to the fucking television?  Yeah.  Forgive me if I'm a little jaded about the family bullshit.


Whoa.  All I had meant to do here was post the picture and call it a day.  Apparently whilst I was defeating tyrants in Albion, my subconscious was cooking up one hell of a tirade!  Sorry folks.  Happy monday?


Just two days of work this week.  Just two.  I can do this...

For Danielle

For my Bestie, who is taking the fucking MTEL today, as I type this little ode to her awesomeness.

Here's hoping you kick some test ass!  You will score big, girlfriend!

I thought i'd make you a little pictorial blog post of images for TEST and MTEL and TEST TAKING, ala Google Image search.  So the above came up whilst searching MTEL.  From one of the MTEL support sites prolly.  however, along with some more lameass clip art and some southamerican telecommunications company that is also apparently called MTel, the following image also showed up, and I thought you might fancy it.  (I did).

 

 

 Yummiest MTEL Pic on the Net!  Woot!

Ok.  So then I just searched TEST for you...

To cheer you and make you smile, allow me to present the following series of images.  

Ahhh.  Lovely.  Japanese School Girl taking a test.  Thought you would enjoy this thoroughly.

If you get stuck on any answers, maybe this terrifying fellow will help you out.  Imagine him like one of those shoulder angels.  Only instead of a traditional cliched angel and devil, you get a bizarre foreign test-taking mascot with kicking sneaks!  'C' is for Creeped the fuck out...

Lateral Thinking should always be applauded.  This kid should write for Cedar Falls. ;)

  

If all else fails... bubble in a dick 'n' balls on your standardized test sheet :)

This is why you got yourself up at the asscrack of dawn and put yourself through it.  So proud of you and happy for you.  And I'll be glad to share a drink with you as soon as you are ready!!

 

 

 

  Love you, D. 

Party People

Had a wonderful dinner party last night!

Eggplant Parm that was, no lie here, fucking perfect eggplant parm. Plus delicious penne with a homemade and very dynamite sauce, and a fresh salad with apples and cranberries and this fabulous fig dressing.  YUM!  My hosts were great, the conversation was fun, and it was a really, really nice way to wrap up the week.  I brought a pinot noir that was meh, but I drank it, so, i guess it was worth the price, lol.

It is wild to be around people at such different stages of relationship.  Old married (that's me and A), engaged, and brand spanking new.  It is always tricky for me to accurately remember what I must have been like at those phases of our relationship, and try to empathize and offer sound advice.

I hope I did so, though. 

I belive in love.

And I believe in laying yourself out there, completely, and not holding back.

Sometimes it is easier to believe in something than to do it.

Wisdom.  Courage.  Strength.  Balance.  Passion.

Just some words that are on my mind right now.  We did Tarot readings too and those are just so nebulous and cryptic and intriguing.  I think, as much as I tend toward spiritual and the goddess and energy and all that, I think sometimes I am still too fucking Irish for such things.  I want some definite, clear answers.  And being a libra exacerbates everything!  It could be this OR it could be this....i'll never be able to lean one way or the other, folks, not left to my own devices!  I don't make choices! sheesh.

I thoroughly enjoyed the deck though.  Beautiful art and very thought-provoking imagery.

And I enjoyed the time we spent on the readings, speculating, pondering, theorizing, and philosophizing. 

If I have regrets, I own them as my own fucking fault. 

next dinner party I will be awesome.

Aaron was perfection :)  He is a good party guest, no?  Je t'adore.