Dog day afternoon.

I'm going to let hell freeze over today and talk about the dog.

His name is Butterfield.

Butter, for short.

I know. How predictable.

Butterfield is a golden retriever that we've had for some nine months now and I hardly ever mention him because this isn't a dog journal.

There was some talk that he had been purchased by an older gentleman to be trained for use as a hearing/service dog for his deaf grandson but apparently the dog wasn't very trainable. They released him to the shelter here and he came into our lives on a fluke a few days before Christmas. Or I should say, a few hundred dollars right before Christmas. Jacob was in the right time at the right place, because who needs a renegade hearing dog more than Bridget?

His name was Butter before Jacob could get the naming question off his tongue. We are in love. He's blonde, like everyone else, slightly shaggy, like everyone else, and completely goofy, like everyone else.

He ate all of my shoes, the entire corner of the bench in the back porch and a large assortment of drywall and hardwood in the first three months he was with us. He'll eat anything, but his favorite things are carrots, wasabi peas, Jacob's ankles and the top of Henry's head.

He whines if we're all upstairs at the same time. He won't come upstairs. The few times we've bathed him Jacob had to carry him up.

He takes us for three walks a day. Mostly to the ice cream parlour or the river. No, mostly for ice cream. He's eaten through four leashes. I have to use a chain leash now and he looks like a biker-dog.

When we go away PJ comes and looks after Butter, letting him ride shotgun in the front seat of the truck and buying him giant rawhide bones. Butter loves PJ in an unnatural way but mostly he loves nighttime when we let him out before we go up to bed and then he comes in and settles on his pretty plaid dog bed and looks at his nightlight to make sure it's on and then he goes to sleep before we are out of the porch.

He barks at everyone like a psychopath who comes unannounced to the door or to the gate. Everyone except for blondes. He goes ape-dog barking at Christian (very dark redhead) and doesn't even look up when Loch arrives (red but closer blonde this time of year).

He's always at our heels and under our feet. He's in our thoughts when we're away for the afternoon and you could melt in his big brown puppy eyes. I could do without the drooling, chewing and shedding, but I've been told we have another year or so of that.

What I do like most about Butter? He likes to run, but he can't talk. Which is more than I can say for my other blonde running mate. Especially on days like today when Jacob is in fine verbal form and has all kinds of words he needs to get out.

What I like even better than the lack of words is Butter's ability to drink from his bowl in the kitchen and drool water all over the floor so when Jacob goes to grab the ringing phone he wipes out on the tiles.

Oh, I never laughed so hard as I did to hear this huge crash this morning and come in to find Jacob sprawled out all over the floor. He's okay, no worries. He only hurt his pride. And he still loves the dog like you wouldn't believe. If I had drooled water all over the floor, causing Jacob to fall I would have been outside for the rest of the day. Possibly on a leash.

But no, Butter is in there now lying on the couch with his head on Jacob's shoulder. Must be nice.

What today is.

    When love beckons to you, follow him
    though his ways are hard and steep.
    And when his wings enfold you, yield to him
    though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
    And when he speaks to you, believe in him.

Last year on this day it poured down rain. Every time the thunder rumbled I had to ask Carolyn what the words were that I was supposed to repeat after her to say my vows. I was nervous and terrified and so so happy.

A year later, let's evaluate.

Yes.

I still maintain I did the right thing. I think the numerous detours, roadblocks, potholes and cataclysmic accidents were all tests and we survived to drive another sunset drive down the highway toward the big orange ball surrounded by a lavender hue that makes me restless and drives me blind.

He blows my mind.

I'm happy I married Jacob. I'm blessed to have him. I love him. I wish we had found a way to lead a quieter first married year. Some of it we caused, some we didn't. We lost the one and only baby we'll ever try to have together. We destroyed our trust in each other and tested each other's faith. We cast off our respect for each other like dirty clothing. We've thrown ourselves to the wolves to see if we would emerge in pieces or surprisingly unscathed. We've made improvements. We've made changes in the way we think, and the way we act. In the way we treat each other.

We've grown patience and now tend it like a beautiful garden.

He still loves his little fucked up deaf girl.

If you want, you can share in the toast Jacob made over the champagneless mimosas that he brought upstairs this morning. Possibly the most unromantic he has ever been. And that's okay too.

Damned if you aren't everything I ever wanted and whole bunch of stuff I didn't expect. Here's to the rest of our lives, princess. Fuck, I hope the future is calmer than the past, and even better than the present.

Happy very first anniversary to my beloved Jacob. We almost never made it to this day but I'm so grateful that we did. Happy that we did. Relieved that we did.

Now on to year two.

High deafinition.

Yesterday was a religious experience. Sorry, honey. There's no way to adequately describe this. True to form I'll give it a shot.

Jake is certifiable and possibly prouder right now this morning than he might have been a year ago last night after having gotten the acceptance of his marriage proposal. He accomplished something he has wanted to do ever since he taught me how to turn the sky into my ocean.

He gave it to me, in two hands, with ease.

Something we can't seem to pull off with the saltwater.

And I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane yesterday afternoon. Albeit strapped to the front of my now incredibly friendly instructor, who, after consulting with the other instructors and ground crew decided that I would tandem jump. I'm guessing this is normal for the first time? For that I was incredibly grateful. Up until that moment I felt...well, ugh, handicapped, unprepared.

No, I'll be honest. Up until that moment I felt like I was planning my own death. More on that in a minute.

Before we got on the plane Jacob came over to me and took my head in both his hands and pressed his nose to mine and told me when we jumped I was to open my eyes, and take in every cloud, every shade of blue, every quilt pattern of farm fields on the ground. I was to record every heartbeat and every ounce of good fear and exhilaration and bliss and to remember every nanosecond of how it felt. That he was going to give me the sky and I was about to really feel full of life in a way I never had before. That it would change me forever.

He kissed me as if it was one that had to last a lifetime. Which kind of freaked me out. Truth be told I was a bit sarcastic with him.

Quit with the dramatics, Jake, you're making me nervous.

Oh, but if I had any inkling of how right he was, I might have been easier on him. But he wasn't nervous, he's done this a dozen times before, he was nervous for me, for I have never had any ambition to fly past being on the roof of my house or jumping into his arms when he's been out for a while. Not since the circus, anyway.

We went up. I couldn't hear anyone to talk much in the plane. I held Jacob's hand in a death grip. We rose thousands of feet in the air and then I was strapped to someone I met yesterday morning. How...awkward but he seemed pretty capable.

And then I watched my husband blow me a kiss and step out of the plane.

Four more people went after Jacob and finally it was my turn. It took forever to come.

(This was the way it would be, then. Surrounded by strangers with qualifications, unable to communicate my wishes, in an alien setting, this would be how it happens. Without Jacob.)

And then I died.

When I dared to open my eyes in heaven the world had turned silent, overly bright and surprisingly cold. I was confronted with a birds' eye view that I never wanted but he gave it to me and I knew he would keep me safe so I embraced it. I missed nothing. I saw everything there was to see. I felt my heart racing the wind back to the ground. I felt my soul scream something that I couldn't hear and I was flooded with a joy I've never felt before. When we were close enough to the ground to pick out features I zeroed in on Jacob and watched as his face turned from concern to utter victory. When my toes touched the ground he left the earth again, jumping into the air and pumping his fist. I heard him yell something. He came running over and I was quickly unstrapped from the tandem master and Jacob took my helmet off and then swung me around like a rag doll.

I couldn't even speak but he knew I was happy by the huge stupid windblown grin on my face.

He touched my face. Ow. Windburn. Sunblasted. A kiss I couldn't feel because every molecule inside was burning up.

But there was no fear. None. Zero.

I didn't think you'd do it.

I love you, Jacob. (Icantthinkanymorethiswassoincrediblybeautiful)

I didn't know I had a choice but now I'm glad I didn't know or I may never have gone up.

I never would have felt so alive.

Watching the movie they took of me (complete with Jacob's victory leap in the foreground!) it took far less time from beginning to end for my jump than I actually had up there. I haven't quite figured that out yet. Very very freaking neat.

What did he yell when I landed?

That's my girl!

Hmmm. I sat down to write and Jacob just told me to go get dressed. He has plans for me, he says. Something about the third day of August and his love of planning elaborate romantic surprises makes me vaguely nervous.

I sat down to write to you that I heard via the boy-grapevine that Loch and Kiera have come to some agreements and arrangements and he won't go down in flames as the biggest asshole that ever lived. It's good news all the way around and no, I won't be having any contact with him any time soon.

So, I'm off, wish me luck and if you know what Jacob is up to, I'll deal with you later.

Best comment of the entire week (which isn't even over yet).

Mmmm, come here and let me hold you for a while, Princess. You smell like lilacs.

Just dessert.

    I choose to live and to lie
    Kill and give and to die
    Learn and love and to do
    What it takes to step through

Last night Jacob asked me to do a lapdance for him. His fingers over his lips, he half covered his dimples in his shy smile, his eyes spilling over with mischief. He turned a little unsure on me and kissed me thoroughly before whispering that it had been a while since I gave him a 'dance.'

Geez, it has. Like two months.

He went into the den. He put Forty Six & 2 on the stereo. I ran upstairs and put on a cute camisole and matching boyshorts and came back down, stopping to visit the fridge on my way.

Then I climbed into his lap and handed him a can of whipped cream. The smile on his face spread like a wildfire. He has such a sweet tooth. And we had skipped dessert.

We woke up sticky, gritty and exhausted this morning after what probably amounted to three hours sleep. Jacob kissed my gummy, dirty cheeks and suggested that tonight we try the freezies.

What a wicked idea.

It will help cool the marks he left on my shoulders. He doesn't know his own strength, especially in the throes of a sugar rush of the best kind.

On boys and sharing.

Jacob surprised me last evening. I stopped working on deciphering Prince Caspian on the piano and came into the kitchen to help with dinner. He was almost finished in his preparations, packing the picnic basket and pulling out a bottle of wine. I looked at him curiously and he smiled and asked me if I wanted to go have a picnic in the park since the heat finally broke.

What a great idea. Dinner is usually pretty low-key or in a diner somewhere, sometimes it's a drive-by iced tea in front of the fridge since the kids aren't here.

He smiled and took the basket and my hand and we were off.

When we arrived and parked the truck, Jacob again took my hand again and then asked me to show him Cole's bench. I walked him there and when he saw the marker he said a quiet hello to Cole and then sat down and asked him if he wouldn't mind if we spent our dinner hour here. And then he passed me a glass and smiled a gentle smile that said he was doing this for me and nothing but.

We ate, we talked about things, about the kids and the upcoming autumn and when the heck we're supposed to get back to the cottage for some good memories and we talked about friends and what that means and what my plans are after my latest work is complete. We talked about how much Jake is looking forward to his new job and how we're going to deal with the new routine and Jacob being gone during the days. Normal conversations. Like normal people have. Like we used to have before everything became life or death struggles, before Bridget lost her mind and stopped pretending she was fine.

We talked about everything and Cole's memory sat beneath us like an unanswered echo across a canyon. We didn't acknowledge him again until sunset, when we were ready to leave. When we stood up, Jacob pulled a stray hairpin from my braid and reached down, pushing it straight down into the ground at my feet, beside the bench. He said that he'd promised to love me and take care of me forever and he was going to do just that, but he could stand to give a little bit to Cole to keep.

If you knew Jacob, he has a thing for my hairpins, this wasn't an idle gesture.

In other words, he's decided to share. To let me talk about Cole again. God, sometimes I need to talk about Cole. To let me feel things, good or bad. To get through this instead of shoving it away, hiding it, pretending it isn't real.

Jacob can do that because Cole can't hurt me any more and because Jacob just figured that out. The threats are gone. This gesture was more to show me that he (Jacob) won't hurt me anymore either. I am the bond that they will share forever, and the kids are our legacy of three and these two men who can evoke the same feelings but be the complete opposites of one another, well, sometimes...

Sometimes they both leave me speechless.

Loneliest girl in the world.

Ben brought me a new CD (Actually it's an EP) that I fell in love with so instantly I haven't crashed back to earth yet. And some advice from a friend who has bounced back and forth between good friend and bitter enemy so many times I might give him a new nickname. He's long grown out of being called Tucker Max, I guess.

Sitting on the hammock while he sat on the floor throwing Jacob's guitar out of tune and being very mature and unBenlike I realized that he's changed. That he's learned from his mistakes and that he's a grownup boy now, with proper limits and a firm distinction between right and wrong, that our friendship meant more to him than a potential one-off. Unless he's biding his gentle time and hiding things well, but I would know. This new and improved Ben had a lot of very intelligent and introspective things to say to me and I listened.

Full circles have been drawn. Ones that get erased when they are complete because there's nowhere for us to go. And Ben is right as he draws a disparaging picture of himself and of the rest of the boys. We're outgrowing each other, these friendships are no longer sound and no longer holding up the way they did when we needed to lean on each other so heavily that what was once a godsend is now a curse of history. There's too much water under their Bridget now and she can't support their weight.

He is right. This almost never happens. But it still makes me so horribly sad, because instead of Jacob asking me to choose and instead of me doing what I know is right and letting them go, instead they're going to let go of me, one at a time. I know it. I can feel it and I know it's the right thing to do.

The last time I'll write about that weekend.

    Then I defy you stars.

Most of the moments we share don't involve arguments anymore. We've surpassed the bitterness and talked this to death. We've made concessions and bared our souls. He called me Medusa and I promptly knocked him right off his high horse, exposing his hypocrisy in his claim of wanting me, and only me. Jacob, in his actions, confesses his role on earth as mortal at last. A regular human man merely wrapped in angel wings for his disguise. I knew it all along and I'm relieved.

That brought a whole 'nother round of swearing because once again, I failed to see the point. I read too much into it. There's no emotional connection. He doesn't need or want her the way he needs me. What's missing there is the obsession, the single-minded consummation of his heart and his thoughts. With me. His heart was not in his betrayal.

And I will make this one single allowance for the brief loss of his mind. Tremendous pressure in an upsidedown world and even the most Godly and perfect of angels sometimes falls from grace. The issues with wanting, and losing our baby sent him into a tailspin I failed to recognize, so busy with my own neverending grief I didn't see that he was sharing it and I had shut him out. This I know, without a doubt. He never dealt with it sufficiently and it came back to bite him in the ass and then, in his shame, he hid all of it from me. Because we had larger, more suicidal issues to deal with, to be blunt. Those issues appear to be resolving, and so it brings in space to deal with everything else.

I still trust him.

He makes this allowance for me because I showed him that deep inside I still have some rage left and he's so happy to see that I haven't given up or given in, that I could get away with just about anything, but I won't.

He still trusts me.

A year ago, or even five, it would have been a different outcome. But after death and violence and a thousand soul-destroying/building conversations, at the end of the day, infidelity is not going to be our deal breaker.

Not this time. Again, sure. Are we back in counseling? Unfortunately yes. We've got some other things to deal with anyway. The nice overpriced professional series, not the coffee shop/favor series. Maybe you get what you pay for. We have to give things a chance. Maybe we're being tested with so many false starts and epic human tragedies because we're meant for greater things. I always believed Jacob was. Me? I'm not so sure, but I'm in this for the long haul. We chose to make a family out of this mess and we haven't quite figured it all out yet but we will.

I try to maintain how human we are, not as an excuse to fall but as a reminder that people are impulsive and driven by so much more than logic. I've never shied away from talking about Jacob's dry temper and legendary patience tempered with perfection. I've never glossed over the fistfights and dramas and wars over me that he has waged. I've certainly never made any effort to disguise the frailty of my heart or mind here anytime since Cole's death.

What would be the point?

Sunday we let it all go, at last.

Yesterday we resolved to enjoy the remainder of our kid-free vacation and upcoming anniversary to the fullest. Our first wedding anniversary is on Sunday and Ruth and Henry return on Monday. That gives us six days to work our way back to lovestruck, a little older and wiser than before. It gives us time to relax beside each other, secure in the newfound comforts of his imperfections and my remaining stabilities. We tested our bond and it held and yet we were both sufficiently freaked out to not ever test it like that again. It's a risk we've come to decide we're simply not willing to take ever again.

Now we go back to starry eyes and declarations without a single shred of credibility and it's fine, because this time no one else is allowed to weigh in. We'll do it our way instead of the way everyone else thinks we should do it. And maybe this time we'll get it right. Such a long and colorful history of stabbing each other in the back exquisitely, I could write for a million years and never tell it all. Eventually we'll get it right.

After all, we've never gotten closer to heaven than we are right now, and this was by far the easiest time we have had with honesty and patience for each other's faults. That, in itself, is outstanding.

That is what keeps hope burning bright. That's what keeps Bridget and Jacob going. That stupid light at the end of the longest tunnel I think I've ever traveled.

Bryte ideas.

Here's a passive-aggressive train of thought.

I wish, as I sit here and try to slog through changes (professionally and figuratively) I wish....

I wish Jon Foreman would cover some Nick Drake songs. Like Road.

That would be awesome.