(Your semi-annual reminder: I can't really write about all of our family Christmas traditions because I try not to write about the children so please don't find it weird that it seems like they don't exist here on the page. They're the center of my universe, I just afford them the utmost privacy. I protect them. I am the mama bear.)
Once again the laundry is up to date, I made poached eggs on English muffins for breakfast and my nose is really so stuffed I think someone filled it with cement when I wasn't looking because I can never breathe but my bloodwork came back fine, blood pressure a little high and I have an inhaler and some more antibiotics and I'll get better eventually but I pretty much live like I described yesterday and that's why I get run-down and then get sick. This many people living and working together means germwise we're only marginally better than an elementary school.
Actually, nix that. We're probably worse.
I thawed some icy hearts with the egg mcmuffins and on the rest I used my honesty. August doesn't get in trouble because he did nothing wrong so I took my lectures right up front, facing-forward, openly and without apology. Crossing lines? Always. Inappropriate? You betcha.
Anyone actually mind?
Nope. When she's gone they get sleep. When she's near they get comfort. Company. Something to hold when you feel like the planet is going to fling you right off.
Lochlan doesn't like any of it but still made the terrible suggestion that they set up an invisible fence that would electrocute me if I went to the wrong areas.
Didn't you already try that and I got blown off my feet?
We'll keep it to the inside. And that wasn't me.
You forget there are places inside you don't want me to go.
(I keep my cuddles to safe targets. I can only imagine the outcry and resulting implosion if I went and cuddled with Sam, or Duncan. Or PJ. I actually miss my PJ cuddles. He locks his door now. Keeps out my demons, he says without meeting my eyes. Oh.
August isn't a safe target, Lochlan tells me. He's a Jacob-clone. He's an enabler. He comes across as wanting you to be healthy but he's as sick as everyone else here.
You really are in fine form today, Lochlan.
I just wish you'd stay put.
Nothing has changed in thirty-five years of him saying that. But he's just pissed because I accepted an invitation for some eggnog tonight at ten from the Devil. Like I said, I don't want anyone to be alone at Christmas. He's going to be around the house all day every day but at night he'll go home across the driveway to his own bed. They think this works but I know the lonelies attack in the dark when you're by yourself and all the bad thoughts come crowding in to dismantle the hard work you did in faking it or being cheerful or at least being constructive.
That's when they come and I feel like if I can't stop mine just maybe I can stop theirs.
Now I have to go and start cooking because I'm making eight tourtieres and a big bowl of hot crab dip for tonight's dinner. We were going to have lobster tonight but there's no room left in the fridge. Or in Sam's fridge, or Caleb's or August's or the big professional series one next door at Schuyler's. So much food. I feel very thankful even though I have to eat with my mouth open and my hand up over my face these days to maintain politeness because breathing is such a struggle.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
