Drive-by movie chitchat.

Any man who sells his soul for love has the power to change the world.

That line gives me the shivers.

Critics be damned. I'll hype it myself. Why? Two words. Nick Cage. February 16th is a heck of a long wait though. There's a laundry list of amazing movies coming between now and then, noteably, The Reaping, The Fountain and Babel. I'm a movie nut, I love them all, even the really awful ones (and I mean very very weird) have something to offer, even it's just an unexpected laugh or a couple hours' worth of escape time, I couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening, an afternoon and even sometimes a morning.

Ghost Rider looks cool, okay? Stop laughing.

Rare mommyblogging.

My son has a way of brightening an otherwise mundane conversation because like me, he misappropriates words that will forever be used in a new context in our family. Unlike me, his hearing has been tested and it's fine. He just shares Cole's attention span issues as well as Jacob's joie de vivre. He misses details. He's five.

So a smattering of our favorite Henryisms seems like a comforting post for a cold early Tuesday morn.

1) When our plane landed Henry asked the flight attendant if we had finally reached "the promise" of Nova Scotia. It took me forever to figure out that he meant province. Promise indeed.

2) The Harry Nilsson song Coconut starts out "she put the lime in the coconuts". Henry likes his version better: "Lying in the coconuts".

3) When I play a scary or funny movie trailer off the Apple website for his benefit, Henry always asks me if I can make it "full-scream". (Get it? Full screen?)

4) Whenever he falls, or bumps himself or hurts himself somehow, he'll yell out "I'm Okay!" to whoever is nearby. Thanks for the reassurance, little man.

5) Those cool weapons in Star Wars? Knife-savers.

Sometimes you just want them to stay little forever. Today is like that.

    I'm left alone on the bus with my
    head on the ground,
    In hopes that I'm found by you
    this time around
    The sun will rise soon and tackle the moon
    Chasing it still in the sky
    All that I've got is tonight
    Excuses and reasons, and now it is the season
    For all that I never got right
    All that I've got is tonight
 

Dish dish revolution.

I'm having issues. My router won't play nice with my modem and therefore I've been dropping all day and can't stay online long enough to do much of anything. A good day to kick it oldschool with Open Office for writing instead. In other words, I got a lot of work done.

It's Thanksgiving here too, which means everyone gets to sit around and lament their bellies growing from the big supper I fed them. Me? I didn't get to sit around. Instead I put on my MP3 player and started the dishes, grooving out to my tunes and shaking my ass at the kitchen sink. Unbeknownst to me, Jacob watched me for a long time, and when I was done and I turned off the music he said we are so buying Dance Dance Revolution.

Snort.

In between dreams.

Did I mention we're sleeping at last?

I had the weirdest dream ever last night. I'm going to blame the new pills and the X-men movie marathon.

In my dream the wind was blowing so hard I could barely stand up. The sky was ominous. Jacob had this bucket and he kept shoving it toward me and yelling at me.

Fill the bucket, Bridget! Put all your hopes inside and then it can't blow away! I'll help!

I kept pushing the bucket away. I was trying to explain that my hopes weren't something I could place in a bucket. You can't see them...you can only think about them. If wishes were stones I wouldn't be able to lift my feet from the ground.

But he couldn't hear me. He wouldn't listen to me anyway. He was so adamant. He just kept pleading with me to do it, desperation soaking his voice, his eyes glassed over in terror.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I woke him up and I looked at him and I wanted him to see it too, I had to make him understand it. Why I will never know.

Just because you can't see it doesn't mean I don't have it, Jacob.

And he knew what I was talking about.

Bridget, hopes are what move us forward. Faith is what we subsist on, and hope is the promise of better things to come. I know you have both or you wouldn't be here with me. Now go back to sleep, beautiful.

He snuggled me into his arms, and yet I was awake for the rest of the night.

How did he know what I meant?

Heal over.

A song that Ms.D pointed me to made me come up for air. She knows me like a kindred spirit would. Thank you for being my friend.

    And I don't wanna hear you tell yourself
    That these feelings are in the past
    You know it doesn't mean they're off the shelf
    Because pain's built to last
    Everybody sails alone
    But we can travel side by side
    Even if you fail
    You know that no one really minds
    Come over here lady
This has been a long week. Bailey left, friends faded gracefully into the background and the kids went to bed earlier than usual, exhausted from school and the remnants of the cold we shared and all the extra people keeping them busier than they're used to.

Jacob and I finally had a chance to address our grief. Quietly, privately and with determination. We've been talking late into the nights when everyone is asleep. It's good. I was scared that he wouldn't want to talk about the baby or talk about the future even but he's opened up and is healing alongside me. It really took the wind out of his sails. Everything happened so fast he didn't get a chance to keep up and so he put it in a box.

That is something I would do. Only this time I took my cues from his usual reactions and I kept it open, I didn't fight it and I seemed to come out in a better place, emotionally. He says I held us up this time.

Tiny, fragile miss Bridget might be stronger than she thinks she is, after all this time.

Yay me.

So we're going to not close the door, even with the dismal numbers facing us. We're going to talk about it a year from now and see what we think, what we feel and decide then if we want to take the leap of faith again or not. If we do or if we don't it's okay.

And I got a weird little thrill running down my spine when I wrote that just now. A year from now. I can't imagine what life will be like a year from now. We're just at the very start, after all.

Therapy landmines.

Progress! Wow!

I'm getting somewhere, folks. For the very first time this afternoon in therapy, I didn't make excuses for Cole's sick brand of love. I said it out loud. It was a huge breakthrough. I've been blaming me for him for everything and something snapped today.

So I'll say it out loud again. Then I'm going to rip it into tiny pieces and maybe eat it.

Cole was a sexual sadist.

There. I said it twice. I can own it now. This is huge. Say it out loud, baby.

Now maybe I can work past it. At last. I'm so happy. Jacob is...completely heartbroken again. He knows what those words mean. I didn't before today. I didn't know it had a name.

Third time's the charm.

Excuse me while the space cowgirl puts some memories out there. Just to make some room inside her head for something new and good.

    Constant overstimulation numbs me
    But I wouldnt want you
    Any other way.
    Just, not enough.
    I need more.
    Nothing seems to satisfy.
    I said, I dont want it.
    I just need it.
    To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.

Bridget, there are two directions you can go with this. One will make things better and one will make things worse.

This in response to nothing more than my eyes traveling above Jacob's head while he was speaking this morning and coming to rest on a 1/4 bottle of Appleton rum sitting on the top of the cupboard in the kitchen mocking me like a schoolyard bully. Because someone left it there. Maybe as a test.

I went for a chair and climbed it. He took me off the chair and put it back.

I got the chair again and he shook his head and crossed his arms. A bad sign.

I reached the bottle while he frustratingly yelled at me to get off the damn chair.

And I opened it.

I poured it down the drain.

And put the bottle with the recycling. And I smiled like the brat that I am.

When I looked at him again he was grinning from ear to ear. While I briefly noted in sadness that his relief was written all over his face. Trust is so hard to come by with certain subjects. But Jacob is all gung-ho to use our losses now as a jumping off point, an emotional trampoline to a higher level of spiritual grace. It could be worse, at least he isn't plotting to run away again.

I had an email question that intrigued me greatly the other day that made me think of running. The last time Jacob ran off he was gone for six weeks, just after Christmas last year. That was the turning point for me. It was when I realized that I missed him far too much and that I couldn't keep this up forever. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be with Cole anymore. Even if Jake never wanted to be with me, he showed me how miserable and toxic my marriage was, he had shown me without words how unbelievably abusive Cole was. It was also when I recognized Jacob's proclivity to run when things became difficult.

(The email question was asking when I finally changed my mind and stopped trying to save my marriage. Where the proverbial turning point lay. Not the easiest question I've ever had. I get a lot of questions, which I try to quietly work into the entries without being so blunt. Sometimes it's harder than it looks. And my mind is really fucked up right now, so bear with me.)

My feelings were confirmed when Loch called to tell me that he had heard from Jake and that Jake was making his way home at last. He had been climbing Kangtega (Hello! Adrenaline junkie). I was so excited he was coming home I couldn't contain myself, never having reacted like this before, and he's been on a lot of long exotic faraway trips. That night at dinner, Cole even brought it up, in the smug fashion he used whenever he talked to me about Jacob.

Chris told me Jake would be back on Friday.

I know, Loch called me.

Well, that's good news for you, Bridget.

I hope he had a good time.

Why was I playing it cool again? Oh yes. To save myself. The rest of the week passed in a flurry, it snowed a lot, Cole worked a lot and I got regular updates via Chris and Loch on Jacob's progress out of Nepal.

Early Friday morning Jacob called. He was waiting for his connecting flight home, was I going to be here all day because he was going to get in mid afternoon? Of course I would be.

Friday afternoon the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there he was.

Jake. Covered with snow. A sugar-frosted treat for my eyes. Looking much the worse for wear. Long beard, longer hair. Wild eyes. Grinning from ear to ear. He smelled like a wet dog, and he was carrying two backpacks. He threw them down and grabbed me right off my feet, squeezing me hard in his arms.

Oh my god, princess, I missed you.
I was crying. I couldn't speak. He pulled back and put his freezing cold hands on my ears and looked at me, laughing.

So this means you missed me?
I nodded.

He laughed out loud and picked me up to twirl me around again. It gave me time to pull myself together.

I'm so glad you're back, Jake.

Honestly?

Yes.

Awesome. I'm going home to shower and unpack. I have a ton of laundry and I've got presents for you guys. When's a good time to come back?

Come for dinner.

Want to check with Cole?

No, just come.

Check, Bridge.

Okay. Second.

I went and phoned Cole at work. He laughed and told me he was working late but to go ahead. He said he'd make up for lost time with me tonight. Nice. I know what that meant. Go play with your boyfriend, Bridget, you can pay the price for it later on. I ignored the dread he left me with.

He's not coming, so it's just us four.

Okay. What can I bring?

You, and not the wet dog smell.

What? Oh, okay. Wait til I tell you. Fourteen hours on a bus. FOURTEEN! With goats. Or maybe I was hallucinating. Wait until you see the pictures I took for you.

Go and clean up.
He kissed my cheek.

Okay. I love you, Bridge.

I love you too. See you soon.

Then I closed the door and thought WTF? DID I JUST TELL HIM I LOVED HIM like it was something I do every day? My friend...who's married. But I'm married. Hell, we don't have any shame anymore. We have said it before. Just not out of the blue like that.

Oh wow. What am I doing? But damn, I have to make dinner now. He must be starving.

When he came back two hours later he was cleanshaven and smelled really good. He had presents for us. He was so happy and full of stories to tell. The kids climbed all over him.

Thankfully I didn't have to think about what to say to him over dinner. He stuck his face in his plate and pretty much shovelled until the food was gone. Then I got up and made him up a second plate and he ate that too. He never took his eyes off me.

Then he pushed back from the table and took a sip of his wine.

I meant it, Bridget.

I gasped, and then I jumped in with both feet.

So did I, Jake.

So why are we doing this?

Jacob, you just got here. You've been gone for weeks.

And I thought about you every minute of every day. Are you okay?

Does it matter? You weren't here.

He sat up and leaned across the table. He wasn't smiling anymore.

Did he hurt you while I was gone? Because I will kill him.

Don't talk like that Jacob.

Fine, I won't kill him, but I'll get you guys away from him.

Stop it.

I'll stop when you come with me.

I thought you might come back with a fresh outlook.

Yeah, the outlook was realizing that you should be with me.
He grinned, enjoying crossing lines as usual.

I couldn't...even if I wanted to. Besides, you're married.

He frowned.

Bridget, I did come back with a fresh outlook. I want you to leave him and I'm going to do everything in my power to see that you do. Because you and the kids need to be safe. You're not safe here.

I was safe enough for you to leave for weeks on end.

Of course you're safe when I leave town.

So now you're claiming responsibility for Cole's behavior?

That's not what I meant. What I mean is when I'm not around things level out for you guys.

Right. So it's my fault.

No. Maybe. I don't know. But I look at you and you're not happy with him.

No, I'm not.

Tell me why not.

Because I married the wrong man.

So let's fix it.

I'm afraid.

Of what? Change?

I'm afraid of Cole.

He cornered me by the kitchen sink and held my face, pulling it right into his. He stopped when his lips touched mine and he didn't move, he didn't kiss me. He just stared at me. I finally pushed him away and turned my head to one side so he wouldn't see me cry but it was too late.

Dear god, Bridget, bring the kids and just come with me. I'll buy a bigger house. Please.
I whispered. I can't.

I want to know what he does to you that makes you so afraid.

Oh no. No, you don't.

I need you to tell me so I can help you, Bridget, please!

I didn't tell him. I still haven't told him. Cole is lucky he's dead.

But something had changed in Jake. He didn't let it go this time. I think ten years of having the same conversation over and over again had left him weary, drained, fed-up. Unwilling to dance around it any more.

Bridget, all I did on this trip was think. And I'm going to give you until Easter. When Easter comes, I'm going to ask you one last time to come with me. I'm going to go sort things out with (ex-wife). So you have until then to sort out your feelings or raise up your courage or figure out how to tell me to fuck off. Until then, I'll be around if you need me but princess, I can't do this anymore. It's time to decide whether you want to be happy or whether you're just going to wait for him to destroy you. I can't stay around and watch that happen. It's killing me too.

If he had told me he had already asked his wife for a divorce I might have gone with him that same night but for some reason he didn't tell me. Oddly he didn't want to add to the pressure he had put on me to do something. Anything, as long as I didn't continue down this slippery slope with Cole. But he didn't tell me. Instead Jacob went home that night after giving me a long hug and not saying any more than he already had.

And me? I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. All I did was watch him when we were together and bide my time with Cole until that day in April. Three days after Easter Sunday when Jacob came over and asked me to go with him, and I did.

He says that campaign number three was a success. Because now I'm his. He swears it was the wet dog smell that won me over. I beg to differ.

This is my...space.

Just wanted to take a brief opportunity to point out that I don't have accounts at myspace, friendster, or any other place on the web. I post here ONLY, I use saltwaterprincess for my gmail account and there are a whole twenty blogs out there that I visit regularly and try to comment every now and again so that's me. Otherwise I'm not 'on' the web. No flickr, no photobucket, no forums, bulletin boards or other websites contain my words or images, that I endorse.

I'm not as twenty-first century as most people.

I have little time for the Internet. I don't do celebrity gossip, I don't read the headlines much, and I rarely shop anymore even, preferring instead to read the latest entries of a select world-class league of bloggers that I found by accident or design and the rest? I leave it.

Okay there's the addiction to iTunes. Who can blame me?

I noticed that when people were doing searches for saltwater princess they were being taken to some strange places. And I just didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. Or see a picture and think it was me, or Jake. Or one of my kids. I don't put our pictures up and neither will anyone else. I put one up once and promptly took it down. I'm a very private person in real life, contrary to the openness with which I write my entries. I do realize that the Internet is not so private in the end. People have words stolen, ideas pilfered and identities assumed and I hope never to be a victim but really all I can do is keep writing, in my little corner, never venturing too far.

Because I like it this way. It's a simple blog with a simple premise. Words, thoughts and feelings from me. No more but no less either. An easy promise for me to keep, and all you have to do is come and read. And I thank you for that.

Songs from Jacob.

Cold dark mornings sometimes bring rather melancholy singing from the karaoke man. Jacob goes down to the kitchen first to start the coffee and feed the cat while I find clothes and rouse the children. When I arrived into the now brightly lit and yummy smelling room he was softly clinking plates and singing a song by Creed. Because it's one of those days.

    The day reminds me of you
    The night hides your truth
    The earth is a voice
    Speaking to you
    Take all this pride
    And leave it behind
    Because one day it ends
    One day we die
    Believe what you will
    That is your right
    But I choose to win
    So I choose to fight
    To fight

Not a particularly good or bad day, just somewhere in between.

Chapstick and cheap dreams.

When I was seven years old my mother did something completely reckless and insane. She handed me the Avon Christmas catalogue and told me to pick something out.

So! Beautiful! They should...have sent...a poet!

I picked out a white plastic Frosty the snowman ring. When you clicked it open the head swung away on a hinge to reveal cherry-flavored chapstick. I loved that thing, I wound up scraping out the last of the chapstick with my fingernail and my mom showed me how to smoosh the contents of another chapstick tube into the empty hole. Oooh! Refillable. I wore it so proudly you would have thought it was from Tiffany & Co.

It was the start of a twenty-eight year love affair with chapstick, and catalogues too. Go figure.

I gave up the snowman ring for the infinitely cooler Maybelline kissing potion in the glass tube with the rollerball applicator within a few years, and the Sears Wishbook and Speigel catalogue held my interest far longer than Avon ever could. Now as an adult I have settled on Labello chapsticks and eleventy hundred different shiny lip glosses but will spend a large portion of each day looking for a tube, or applying the stuff liberally. A full-fledged addict, without shame.

On Sunday evening I asked Jake if he had a tube on him, or if he could go and buy some for me, or remember to even bring some from home.

No, Bridget.

What? Why not?

You have a problem.

It's chapstick, Jake.

Exactly. I've eaten so much of it I'm soon to be know as the Wax Preacher.

So don't eat it.

But then I can't kiss you.

Oh. Point taken.

So you'll cut out the chapstick?

Sure, I can do that. (she says hesitantly.)

But then that sort of blows the whole dream I have had for years of tucking my chapstick and my cellphone in my pocket, jumping into my 1971 VW camper bus and hitting the highway.

Because now I have no chapstick, but more importantly, I don't own a 1971 VW camper bus. It's just one of those silly dreams. An escape, like having a tropical destination poster on the wall in your office. You look at it or think about it and your brain takes a mini-vacation. Or at least it's something to shoot for.

Something a little more exciting than driving to the drugstore in your 1971 VW camper bus and buying a dozen of your favorite chapsticks and going somewhere in disguise to apply them. Over and over again.

Because that, well, that's a really dumb dream.