Really fucking clumsy for a goddamned former acrobat.

The ten day absence isn't because I am avoiding you. 

George has a crack in his belligerent self because Bridget took a drunken backflip off the diving board and might have landed on...the diving board because SUE ME, I'm used to doing backflips in place and forgot about things like physics, momentum, gravity and...pain. 

Never ask a tightrope walker for a trick because she'll do one and fuck up her summer with another complete lower arm cast, this one which is also temporary for two weeks until the next one gets put on and I got a pale green cover for it because it's pretty and WOW. I figured I could just roll with it and I said I was fine but then Lochlan touched it only slightly and the noise I made ratted me out. 

Narcotics don't mix with anything but George has a way of hurting me like no other man ever could.  

I did all this with my left hand, including formatting!

While I wasn't looking.

 Drunk and in the pool all week. When people start complaining about how low the temperature of the water is set to I get out and run and jump off the cliff into the actually-cold water. Then I realize I'm drunker than I thought and do it all again an hour later after another drink. 

The one downside of this Collective is that someone will always sneak me a drink without realizing that three or four or nine others have the same idea and then Lochlan or Benjamin or Schuyler has to make a new rule that only Lochlan can bring me drinks and I snort-laugh and he instantly feels like a servant and the dynamic doesn't work like that and POOF Bridget's drunk again. 

At least they are watchful around the water. And I'm such a strong swimmer now, but I don't have the speed. I can tread water for hours. I can breaststroke from one side to the other, I can do a front or back crawl around the point but it's too slow for everyone, especially Lochlan who is always in a hurry to Be Safe and I know his trauma wears a different face than mine but it's just as monstrous. 

Drunk is good though. And I think now I did get a lombotomy while no one was looking. It didn't hurt at all so that's the good thing and I'm annoyed at how everyone is explaining everything like I am nine again but then expecting me to adult as well. I didn't tell you about the tree branch that fell on the hood of my Jeep nor did I tell you I didn't melt yet. I am close though. I stay up very late now and I look at the boys when they talk and I swim or lounge in the pool by day waiting for summer to be over before it has started. Another trip around the sun indeed. Another new fancy restaurant. Another plan for another time. A wish for sleep and then a wish for change. 

I feel like a runaway train that never had a destination in the first place. Is this burnout or insanity?

Maybe it's acceptance.

Homesick hour, but for what? was the question that never gets answered.

 Here comes the first heat wave/dome of the season and the pool is ready. The bikinis don't fit but the pool is ready. Who gained weight? I did! Probably because of the lead they glued to my soul to keep me grounded. I can work for hours, sweat like a demon whether it be cleaning, gardening, waxing the Jeep but then I just sit like a tired potato and people bring me snacks. The way to Bridget's heart was always lined with cake and it seems like there's no shortage, birthday or otherwise. 

But yeah. Um. Thank god my two piece retro swimsuit fits. It's a high waisted bottom with a shirred halter top and it's so fifties. I love it. The boys don't because they all are perverts but that's fine. I like what I like on them so we're even. 

Wet. board. shorts. Pastel colours and you can see...everything. 

EVERYTHING. 

Life is good.

Also I did not talk about my birthday but I'm still younger than Naomi Watts or Jennifer Lopez at least. I will detail it tomorrow maybe. I need to sleep now. Goodnight.

Didn't expect it but I expected it.

My first world problems of forgetting Nick Cave lyrics (The Carny, of course. It's three times the length of an average tune with a billion and a half words and Lochlan has it tattooed to his soul but I can't remember anything any more, as I am unplugged, deconstructed and subdued) and being extremely irked by Canada Post and UPS and their abject failures in bringing me my things and then setting up the patio lights All By Myself only to discover when I went to plug them in that I started with the wrong end and then had two female plugs-the end of the lights and the extension cord. 

All first world problems, as I said but enough to start a quiet landslide in my brain and then it all stopped when I saw the paper tonight. Or rather, the AP newswire and saw that Heather Armstrong (Dooce herself) has passed away, on purpose even, as if it wasn't written in the cards the way it always is after the fact. 

I read her from the first. And I continued to read until things became darker and darker and I couldn't see any more and there are no blogs I read now because the time has come and gone and the people have come and gone and I'm still here. Never famous or infamous but full of thoughts and opinions no one's going to read or listen to and that's okay. I'll still be here until I am old and blind and still deaf and still trying to remember the words, good, bad and lyrical. 

Her poor children. It doesn't matter what you may have thought of her but it hurts most for those left behind. Be mindful of that.