Today was amazing. The sun was shining, it was mild out, and we took off after a lazy morning to have some lunch out, run a few errands and take a long drive.
I've been very good today. I've worked hard not to be the little velcro-monkey I expected to be. Ben came home in full beard and flannel just before midnight and opened his arms and I was a fucking goner, baby.
He smelled like airplane fuel, and once again I did not care. I stayed in his arms and I slept fitfully, waking up every six minutes to make sure he was really here and I wasn't dreaming.
I'm not dreaming, am I?
Saturday, 16 January 2010
Friday, 15 January 2010
Best intentions.
After lunch this afternoon I got in the car and pulled out of the garage into the sunshine and sat for a few moments waiting for the car to warm up. The boys have told me I can't just let my car sit for long periods without at least warming it up every now and then so I've been dutiful (before you email me, we're talking -30 or worse temperatures most of the time) though they probably say it just as much to get me out of the house.
I figured I would put it in gear and go to the hardware store and maybe stop for a coffee on the way home. A little treat since I haven't spent a dime or left the house for any reason other than school and one trip grocery shopping for two weeks straight.
Huh.
I pulled back into the garage, turned the car off, plugged it in and came inside.
I made coffee in the coffee maker. Odds are Ben will want to visit a few places tomorrow anyway so we'll go out then and maybe we can tack on a nice lunch out somewhere and a coffee on the way back.
I think it's self-preservation. I have a headache. I'm way beyond overtired and everything is melty and the roads are very slippery. It's not that I am in bed with the covers pulled up over my head wishing away the world, it's more that I don't feel like wasting the energy and stressing myself out more when I know I'm overtaxed.
This morning I painted and caught up on the laundry and cleaned and I got everything ready for Ben's return tonight. His towels are out. His favorite foods are stocked in the kitchen. The house is clean. I even brushed the dog. He's so excited to be coming home, even if it's just for a long weekend and I am still plotting to bar the doors and ground all the planes so that he can't go back next week. I hope I'm successful but I think instead I'll be expected to be an adult.
Hmph. Fat chance of that ever happening in this lifetime.
He's coming home, though! That's all that matters.
I figured I would put it in gear and go to the hardware store and maybe stop for a coffee on the way home. A little treat since I haven't spent a dime or left the house for any reason other than school and one trip grocery shopping for two weeks straight.
Huh.
I pulled back into the garage, turned the car off, plugged it in and came inside.
I made coffee in the coffee maker. Odds are Ben will want to visit a few places tomorrow anyway so we'll go out then and maybe we can tack on a nice lunch out somewhere and a coffee on the way back.
I think it's self-preservation. I have a headache. I'm way beyond overtired and everything is melty and the roads are very slippery. It's not that I am in bed with the covers pulled up over my head wishing away the world, it's more that I don't feel like wasting the energy and stressing myself out more when I know I'm overtaxed.
This morning I painted and caught up on the laundry and cleaned and I got everything ready for Ben's return tonight. His towels are out. His favorite foods are stocked in the kitchen. The house is clean. I even brushed the dog. He's so excited to be coming home, even if it's just for a long weekend and I am still plotting to bar the doors and ground all the planes so that he can't go back next week. I hope I'm successful but I think instead I'll be expected to be an adult.
Hmph. Fat chance of that ever happening in this lifetime.
He's coming home, though! That's all that matters.
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Lachrymose and twee.
One more sleep to go and then I can fill this massive hole where Ben is supposed to be but isn't. I've been edging around this hole for almost two weeks now and no amount of contingency plans, rickety fences or reassurance keeps the fear of falling in away from me.
One more sleep.
I'm so excited my heart is already pounding and I have that weird sickish feeling in my throat. I'm looking so forward to being able to sleep with both eyes closed, getting the giant princess-crushing hugs and general feeling of safety that Ben provides and a million other reasons. I miss seeing his eyes in person. I miss the grin and the beard he said he is keeping until we're with him for good and I miss being able to feel my heart beating because he has it with him and hell, even at Build-A-Bear they have a beating heart you can buy to stuff into your animal as it's made. It's important. It's basic comfort like nothing else.
Like Ben.
In other boy-news, I heard from my fair-weather lover too after mentioning how well I do when he is away. Lochlan called me and swore at me. Nice. I swore back because I am such a lady, and a petulant, immature one at that. Then I cried because he doesn't miss me the way Ben does.
He said I had no way of knowing that, simply because he doesn't moon over me the way the others do presently. I pointed out they don't, haven't and aren't so what does he know, anyway? He said he isn't given the privilege of showing any vulnerability when it comes to Bridget any more because everyone gets their guard up and I fall apart and it's just a bad scene all around. Fair enough. We'll finish that conversation when I see him next. But see? I can just leave Lochlan there and not be sad.
I can, I swear.
Okay, not really.
I'm just trying to focus. I got a lot accomplished in the past two weeks. A lot I didn't expect to accomplish and I even picked up my bravery cape and tried it on a few times. Maybe it fits. I'm just not sure about the color or the weight. But it's there on the hook and when the sun is shining I might drape it over my arm or twirl once or twice in front of the mirror wearing it.
Maybe I'll sleep in it tonight.
One more sleep.
I'm so excited my heart is already pounding and I have that weird sickish feeling in my throat. I'm looking so forward to being able to sleep with both eyes closed, getting the giant princess-crushing hugs and general feeling of safety that Ben provides and a million other reasons. I miss seeing his eyes in person. I miss the grin and the beard he said he is keeping until we're with him for good and I miss being able to feel my heart beating because he has it with him and hell, even at Build-A-Bear they have a beating heart you can buy to stuff into your animal as it's made. It's important. It's basic comfort like nothing else.
Like Ben.
In other boy-news, I heard from my fair-weather lover too after mentioning how well I do when he is away. Lochlan called me and swore at me. Nice. I swore back because I am such a lady, and a petulant, immature one at that. Then I cried because he doesn't miss me the way Ben does.
He said I had no way of knowing that, simply because he doesn't moon over me the way the others do presently. I pointed out they don't, haven't and aren't so what does he know, anyway? He said he isn't given the privilege of showing any vulnerability when it comes to Bridget any more because everyone gets their guard up and I fall apart and it's just a bad scene all around. Fair enough. We'll finish that conversation when I see him next. But see? I can just leave Lochlan there and not be sad.
I can, I swear.
Okay, not really.
I'm just trying to focus. I got a lot accomplished in the past two weeks. A lot I didn't expect to accomplish and I even picked up my bravery cape and tried it on a few times. Maybe it fits. I'm just not sure about the color or the weight. But it's there on the hook and when the sun is shining I might drape it over my arm or twirl once or twice in front of the mirror wearing it.
Maybe I'll sleep in it tonight.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
And there's a hippo loose in Montenegro.
- The saved voice notes on my BlackBerry are hilarious. I forgot they were there, and so I'm amusing myself right now playing them all back. Conway Twitty and The Night Bacon one is my favorite. Ben cracks up and has to start over. Twice.
- I've never seen an episode of the Simpsons, Mad Men, Desperate Housewives, American Idol or whatever else everyone seems to live-Twitter. I don't really like TV. Okay, I loved NCIS before it disappeared, and I liked Ice Road Truckers and Ice Pilots NWT. I love watching the Dakar Rally when it's on, the winter Olympics (but not really the summer ones except for men's swimming..hmm...fancy that) and my all-time favorite thing to watch was Eco-Challenge. LONG gone. I don't watch the news. I love movies but lately I haven't had enough peace of mind to sit down long enough to watch one. Maybe this weekend. We still have a bunch of new Blu-Rays just sitting here that haven't been opened yet.
- When I'm painting/drywalling/making a mess, I twist my wet hair up in two knots behind each ear and secure with hair elastics. Not only does it make the mailman laugh when I forget it's like that and take the dog for a walk as Princess Leia, but when I take them out later when my hair is dry, it is all ringletty and pretty, which is just a nice bonus after spending the day feeling yuck.
- I have no idea where Montenegro is. I looked it up and I still have no idea. Bad maps or inept Geography teacher. I'll let you decide.
- the first thing I plan to buy in Vancouver is a fake Louis Vuitton bag. Why? Because I always wanted one. Ben wanted to buy me a real one in Paris but then we had the fight and came home and really, let's just not go there.
- My new plan for world domination includes taking out The Weather Network first. They were off by fifteen degrees today. They got my hopes up for the last time. I'm a fan of Weather Underground now. As always, last to the party.
- I'm addicted to themes for my BlackBerry. (You may know this if you follow me on Twitter. Are you following me? You should follow me. I warn you, I post alot and then delete half of it later, but I'm impulsive like that.) I follow all the theme making girls. They make such nice themes and my new Bold can hold dozens of them. I change my theme or at least my wallpaper every single day.
- I realize I've been reading my Christmas book for three weeks already. I'm hoping to finish it
tonightthis month. - I would vote for this as the most useful thing on the internet. No, I'm not kidding. (Also, cute ministers..it's a thing. Go away.)
- Ben has been very patient. I would tell you how patient, but then I just look like a drama queen. What's that? Oh, shut up.
- There are 55 hours left until he gets home. FIFTY-FIVE! Karma, if you're going to be a bitch, do it now.
- Lochlan has dropped off the face of the earth. I hate it when he does that but really, he doesn't have much patience for me. He never has. He'll resurface when he's good and ready. I am fine with him being gone when he goes and stays away. Ironic.
- Point form posts are sometimes what Bridget gives you when she's had three hours of sleep because Henry has been coughing again. With any luck tonight (aka a hot bath and some children's Nyquil) he'll sleep a lot better and then maybe I will also. Cross your fingers.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
Not like the other: A chip. Or two.
Yes, I saw it. I looked out over the snowswept plain and I considered the gusts and the barren stillness and remoteness of it all and I gave it an appropriate length of deliberation. I took a pass.
Jacob warmed his hands by rubbing them together.
Where are your gloves?
I don't know. Is this alright, then?
No, it isn't.
I wouldn't have picked this for you either.
You don't get to make decisions anymore, you're dead.
Exactly. And you haven't been left behind.
* * * * * * * * * * *
In other news, I stopped using CFL bulbs today. As in, I went around the house replacing perfectly good spendy dim CFLs with good old-fashioned incandescent bulbs. And wow. What a difference. The light is bright and warm again. I can toss spent bulbs in recycling again. I can put them in outdoor fixtures without them failing, know that I can flip a light on and off without shortening its lifespan (which, for the record is NO longer) and I don't have to wait three seconds for the light to come on. By then, I am already across the room and have tripped over the dog. I can happily use my pretty lamps with clip on shades. And incandescents are two for a dollar.
So stuff it.
You want to talk to me about the environment? About saving energy and helping the planet? Trust me, you don't want to get into it with me. I could almost guarantee you I'll win the war on who is more ubercrunchay with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back.
And I'll do it brightly and warmly lit.
(Snort.)
Jacob warmed his hands by rubbing them together.
Where are your gloves?
I don't know. Is this alright, then?
No, it isn't.
I wouldn't have picked this for you either.
You don't get to make decisions anymore, you're dead.
Exactly. And you haven't been left behind.
* * * * * * * * * * *
In other news, I stopped using CFL bulbs today. As in, I went around the house replacing perfectly good spendy dim CFLs with good old-fashioned incandescent bulbs. And wow. What a difference. The light is bright and warm again. I can toss spent bulbs in recycling again. I can put them in outdoor fixtures without them failing, know that I can flip a light on and off without shortening its lifespan (which, for the record is NO longer) and I don't have to wait three seconds for the light to come on. By then, I am already across the room and have tripped over the dog. I can happily use my pretty lamps with clip on shades. And incandescents are two for a dollar.
So stuff it.
You want to talk to me about the environment? About saving energy and helping the planet? Trust me, you don't want to get into it with me. I could almost guarantee you I'll win the war on who is more ubercrunchay with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back.
And I'll do it brightly and warmly lit.
(Snort.)
Monday, 11 January 2010
Bedtime Stories (Four sleeps left).
Run, rabbit, run. Down the rabbit hole. It goes faster if you tuck your skirt around your legs tightly and close your eyes.
Go, Bridget, go!
I was up off my backside and running, never daring to look behind me, since the shadow stretching out in front of me was enough incentive. In my head the constant soundtracker took over and put Vivaldi to my movements, which made my brain compete with my legs for speed and made me dizzy. I fought to replace it with Bach. Angry, brooding German. Sonata No. 1 in G minor. Hell, pick something, princess, just get moving!
Down further and further, the cavern looped around and around, a spiral deep underground, leading God knows where. A door. It's a door. Open it. Run inside and SLAM! Turn and survey the room. Lightbulb in the ceiling and a tiny bottle on the floor in the center, almost directly underneath the bulb.
DRINK ME.
Who am I to question the weirdness of the moment or the relative recklessness of drinking something that I can't identify?
Whoooooooosh.
I'm tiny. The size of a firefly. My voice is a helium buzz and I laugh, a chipmunk bubble not even loud enough to echo off the stone walls. I can hide anywhere now, the problem is running. It will take weeks to cover the same distance I just ran when I was big.
The door flies open and I hide behind the tiny bottle, crouched down because it's empty. Hoping it's enough.
Fee Fi Fo fum.
What the fuck? I don't remember a giant in this story. But where there are giants, there are beanstalks. And golden eggs. Maybe if I can find both I can buy my way out of this mess. The goose was probably eaten already by the Queen of Hearts and her ludicrous children and I am fresh out of luck and storybooks. Why oh why can't this be The Princess and the Pea? That one is easy.
I step out.
Caleb.
Yes, princess?
It doesn't go like that.
It doesn't matter. I have money, I'll just change it.
But you can't. It's a classic.
Write another.
I don't write fairytales.
Sure you do.
Not until after they happen.
Why is that?
It's just the way I am.
He grinned, and the giant was replaced by the beast.
Stop that.
Stop what?
Stop changing. I can't keep you straight.
That's my point. If you didn't write it, I can do whatever I please. Free reign on the page.
Then it won't be a very good story and no one will read it. A sad ending to your hopes of becoming a classic.
Suddenly he was Caleb again and I blinked and he passed me a cookie. One bite and I was back to Bridget-size, all five feet of anxiety, words and humor that becomes unrecognizable emo swill with one good shake. Nice yellow dress. I don't wear yellow. Christ. He held up the rose. It was already dead. My favorite kind.
So what would make it a classic?
Time.
Hard to have time when you won't stop running, Bridget.
Fairytales have happy endings, and I am nowhere near one right now.
How do you know that?
Because you're here.
Aren't you supposed to give me the gold? Then I'll go away. Unless...
Rumpelstiltskin!
*POOF*
Go, Bridget, go!
I was up off my backside and running, never daring to look behind me, since the shadow stretching out in front of me was enough incentive. In my head the constant soundtracker took over and put Vivaldi to my movements, which made my brain compete with my legs for speed and made me dizzy. I fought to replace it with Bach. Angry, brooding German. Sonata No. 1 in G minor. Hell, pick something, princess, just get moving!
Down further and further, the cavern looped around and around, a spiral deep underground, leading God knows where. A door. It's a door. Open it. Run inside and SLAM! Turn and survey the room. Lightbulb in the ceiling and a tiny bottle on the floor in the center, almost directly underneath the bulb.
DRINK ME.
Who am I to question the weirdness of the moment or the relative recklessness of drinking something that I can't identify?
Whoooooooosh.
I'm tiny. The size of a firefly. My voice is a helium buzz and I laugh, a chipmunk bubble not even loud enough to echo off the stone walls. I can hide anywhere now, the problem is running. It will take weeks to cover the same distance I just ran when I was big.
The door flies open and I hide behind the tiny bottle, crouched down because it's empty. Hoping it's enough.
Fee Fi Fo fum.
What the fuck? I don't remember a giant in this story. But where there are giants, there are beanstalks. And golden eggs. Maybe if I can find both I can buy my way out of this mess. The goose was probably eaten already by the Queen of Hearts and her ludicrous children and I am fresh out of luck and storybooks. Why oh why can't this be The Princess and the Pea? That one is easy.
I step out.
Caleb.
Yes, princess?
It doesn't go like that.
It doesn't matter. I have money, I'll just change it.
But you can't. It's a classic.
Write another.
I don't write fairytales.
Sure you do.
Not until after they happen.
Why is that?
It's just the way I am.
He grinned, and the giant was replaced by the beast.
Stop that.
Stop what?
Stop changing. I can't keep you straight.
That's my point. If you didn't write it, I can do whatever I please. Free reign on the page.
Then it won't be a very good story and no one will read it. A sad ending to your hopes of becoming a classic.
Suddenly he was Caleb again and I blinked and he passed me a cookie. One bite and I was back to Bridget-size, all five feet of anxiety, words and humor that becomes unrecognizable emo swill with one good shake. Nice yellow dress. I don't wear yellow. Christ. He held up the rose. It was already dead. My favorite kind.
So what would make it a classic?
Time.
Hard to have time when you won't stop running, Bridget.
Fairytales have happy endings, and I am nowhere near one right now.
How do you know that?
Because you're here.
Aren't you supposed to give me the gold? Then I'll go away. Unless...
Rumpelstiltskin!
*POOF*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)