Loathe to infect my guests, I did indeed go to the clinic before lunch and it was predictably a ghost town so I was ushered in right away. My throat is healing, the cough and pain is residual in nature, as well as the lack of useable hearing in my ears. All of it should go away "in the next few weeks."

Weeks. Yippee. On with dinner plans!

On a completely unrelated note: Men who go out into the rain with cowboy hats on?

Incredibly freaking hot.

That is all. Happy turkey day to all.

Sick people have no business throwing parties.

    Lord, I'm foolish to be here in the first place,
    I know some man gonna walk in and take my place.
    Ain't no way in the world I'm going out that front door

The tie Jacob wore to church lasted until 11:26 am and then I watched as he untied it and snaked it off one side, balling it up and stuffing it deep into his suitjacket pocket. Then he saw me watching him and made a goofy face while pulling on the neck of his shirt with one finger to symbolize being strangled. I laughed out loud and Sam broke into a grin at us and kept talking from the pulpit. I was so embarrassed but that laugh flew out anyway and Jacob smiled for the rest of the morning.

He loves it when I can't stifle a laugh.

In the late afternoon we chose pumpkins at the pumpkin patch and then opted to come home, much to the dismay of Ruth and Henry, who were all corn maze! and hayrides! and ghost stories! but they're still coughing and have unpredictable sore throats and my throat still hurts all the time and I'm coughing a lot at night and in the mornings, so we came home to warm up and snuggle in for a bit before supper. Listening to music while I fussed with making chicken noodle soup and hot chicken sandwiches. Fielding more protests as I tucked the kids in before 7:30 pm so that they could have the benefits of sleep to heal.

It was exhausting.

Choosing sleep as well around nine, I headed to bed while Jake sat at his desk in the den, reading glasses on, cognac at hand, with Eat a Peach playing on the stereo, almost indiscernible to me at such a low volume. He's already back into his groove, philosophy and faith writing being old familiar friends to him so I left him to enjoy his time.

He did and he woke me up at midnight with drunken pooh-bear talk and crashing into the humidifier and a solid refusal to let me stay asleep in favor of indulging his favorite obsession (that would be me). I would have protested but I was too preoccupied with his mouth and his hands (among other things) to fight for sleep.

This morning we're slowly coming to life, the kids are feeling better today and my throat is miserably raw again. I'm seriously considering a quick run over to the walk-in clinic to have my throat looked at for a third time but may just leave it for tomorrow, as I have a table for ten set (well, two tables) and a lot of cooking to start this afternoon.

And cake. Bridget's got cake. The hell with turkey, bring on dessert.

I'm sure Jacob said something similar last night but I couldn't hear him clearly enough.

I'm not late today.

Just for fun and to freak people out, Jacob's wearing a tie today with his rumpled plain white shirt and his newer corduroy jacket. Just for fun. He looks so handsome.

He couldn't tie it properly. He pointed that out repeatedly and finally I stood on the bed behind him and did it with my hands over his shoulders. He asked me how I knew how to do that and I pointed out it's just something girls seem to learn and so I learned it along with Lochlan and Cole as they moved from school and play clothes into formal wear, along with ironing and making braids. He told me that he was grateful for the ironing and soon his hair would be long enough for braiding again. We laughed. Ruth loves to braid his hair and she was more than a little perturbed when he came home with his short locks in the spring. Now that he is back to shaggy-long she's looking forward to adding beads and some rollers to her arsenal of hair accessories to use on Jake.

Today there's only one service, Sam has made some changes and is making some of the sparsely-attended holiday services sermon-light and community rich. Today was an open invite to help your neighbor rake leaves or take some food boxes down to the shelter and volunteer for an hour or two and then the standard second service will be at 11.

We didn't rake or make the trip downtown. Instead we slept in and I was gently awakened by Jacob smoothing his hands over my shoulders and then my legs and then he rocked me against him until I saw stars and could no longer breathe. And then he smiled and asked me if mine were as bright as his.

Stars are so much nicer than leaves anyway.

You know me better than I realized.

    Out of the ground I rise to grace
    Nobody knows it's just a phase
    Help me I'm out of breath again
    Nobody knows somewhere to make it go away

Upon waking this morning, I discover wonderfully dark gothic treats. Back into a groove we didn't have last year, as Halloween approaches we embrace autumn and longer, colder nights. Bloom where you are planted, so to speak.

This morning I found rose petals in the front porch. Not a packageful slipped through the mail slot but a handful shoved through. They were beautiful. Fresh, dark red turning to black around the edges. Jacob didn't put them there, he found them with me. He doesn't like them, finding it sinister, but I quite enjoy this one, whatever it means. Is that bad? I don't know but it's better than being afraid.

We hung paper garlands of fall leaves along all the porch windows. They'll come down toward the end of November and will help extend the color in the skies when the last of the real leaves fall from our elm trees this weekend or shortly after. There is a foot-high layer of leaves in the front yard that I need to tackle next week. Jacob says he'll do it but then he sneezes for days after.

We went to family therapy this morning and learned once again that kids are resilient and profound and aware and observant and the one thing they know for sure is how much everyone loves them. And how much we love each other. I was grateful for words such as those today. Then we went to an overpriced coffee shop a little ways from our favorite one, which was closed for the long weekend and had pastries that weren't quite as good, and coffee that wasn't as strong and servers that weren't quite as relaxed but it's okay, not every place can be the best one.

We stopped at the farmer's market on the way home and bought acorn squash and some baby pumpkins and some huge carrots and some indian corn too and Jacob bought this giant basket that someone was selling that their grandfather made and I can fit in it and he laughed and said it would look nice beside my spinning wheel because it might actually hold my fiber instead of only half and he was right and he gently teased me about making him a new sweater this winter and I probably will.

Joel showed up with non-alcoholic wine for Thanksgiving dinner, his acceptance of the invitation and a box containing a brand new pair of spendy headphones for me. Lowriders no less. I'll get mugged wearing them to run, they're too cool. Mostly because they have skulls. I like skulls.

Speaking of skulls, I just got another kiss on the top of mine, which means it's time to go. Errands to run before lunch. Hearing aid batteries, stuffing and Jacob's having his ahem...piercing changed to a bigger gauge, because he's so hardcore. My earrings are now 10g, and I think he feels left behind.

Snort.

On running with Joel.

    Cause I am my enemy
    The water's up to the knee
    I never wanted anything from you
    Yes I do, yes I do
    My engine's running on dry
    My head's so fucked up inside

Joel is a riot.

For all his importance that I tease him about, for all our issues in becoming...er...acquaintances, since we're still a few steps away from the friendship stage, he's a nice guy. He and Jacob have been friends forever and I respect that immensely.

My issues with him lie with his immediate heavy-handed approach in wanting to micromanage every aspect of my life when we approached him to help. My subsequent rebellion and amusing accusations did little to enhance his image of me but in vindication I have since heard that several clients jumped ship once he completed adopting Claus' practice because of his radically different approach. Claus has retired, of course. Joel has many irons in his professional fires, the least of which concerns therapy (thank god) because frankly...

He sucks at it, I think. And I should know. I have fired nine people now, in two years.

Okay, so maybe I'm not the best one to ask. But there are far too many counselors out there who are not as objective as they appear to be, and at risk for either getting sucked into you on a personal level, unable to maintain any distance, or they are so rigid they keep trying to shove you into a category and fail to notice you are a human being and when you don't comply they give up.

I seem to always get one or another, which is dumb. Which is why I wind up getting counseling on the fly from Jacob who does a magnificent job at being neither objective nor forgiving and well, it works about as well as you'd expect it to. But Jacob is still awesome despite having no business counseling his own wife.

In any event, I didn't sit down to talk about therapy (which sucks, did I mention that?), I wanted to talk about other things.

This morning was a barely concealed arrangement between Jacob and Joel that Joel would run with me today, since Jacob had early meetings (didn't I say the church would eat him alive again? He loves it, I swear) and is freaking busy all the time again, already (part-time, Sam, part-time. I think that means nothing.) so Joel said it was fine if we ran and didn't talk and so I brought my zen and he brought his iPod and we ran and ran and traded players every now and then (who the HELL listens to Sigur Ros when they run? Joel, that's who.) and we went down to the river and I held my breath until we rounded the corner and the bench was...upright. Not disturbed for the first time in eight days. Which is good. Maybe it was a fluke. Joel was pre-warned (thanks to Jake) and yet he said nothing and we kept going.

And then my headphones died an abrupt death. So Joel put away his iPod and we ran and talked, only we didn't talk about Bridget, we talked about Joel and it was nice to hear about someone normal without many issues and without a world of hurt and baggage dictating his every move. He survived a messy divorce quite admirably and is vaguely lonely but has some friends here and counts us among them, I think he meant Jake more than me but I'm sure he'll correct me after reading this. I hope we do become friends eventually but we had a very rough start. Hell, the day I met him was...a painful day and I'm colored by that forever. I come with a neon sign over my head that blinks constantly and flickers and gives people headaches and it says "insane" I think. I can't see it but trust me, it's there. How do you become trusting friends with someone who you first met as they held you down while you screamed in order to give you a sedative?

I didn't think so. God, what a horrible memory.

After my shower I dug out my old nomad player and stole the headphones from it. Of course they still work. Figures.

I invited Joel for Thanksgiving. I wonder if he'll come.

Blow me a kiss and explode into stars.

No worries, I'm not allowed to quit therapy because I took myself out of charge. I went today and I'll be going until things are better and then I'll be going some more.

I agreed with that, because it makes sense. I just wish sometimes it was less difficult, less invasive, less exhausting but Jacob keeps gently telling me it's very hard work.

Oh, and that I'm doing great.

He says that over and over again as we sit in a hot bubblebath, his chin on my head, his arms around me, his thoughts on nothing but the future and promises I am trying to keep to him that he knows I'll keep even when I have my doubts.

When life is said and done would someone saint him, please?

If our roles were reversed I would have stuck a firecracker down his throat and blown him a kiss into outer space by now and what he gives me is a wall. A human wall of strength, upholstered in flannel that I can bounce off of and push against and sometimes stand with my back up against it so I can see the monsters coming and sometimes I can climb right up it and be completely safe.

He said/she said.

Mr. Open isn't being so open today. Which means his head is preoccupied. In therapy today the subject of sexual progress was gingerly broached and I pointed out what had happened yesterday morning and Jacob denied it.

Because, really, who are they going to believe? Who is anyone going to believe? I point out my need for my own friends and not just Jacob's friends who are all on his side and quick to condemn my actions. I point out his complete and utter ignorance of Oct. 1, which was an incredibly painful anniversary in our lives and he bitterly pointed out that we fixed that and we're not marking any more dark days and just like that he decided that all was well and he wasn't going to dwell on any of it.

Or even admit half of it.

Like he won't admit that every morning we run down to the park by the river to Cole's bench to kill two birds with one stone and every morning the bench is upside down. Not just tipped over but turned end over teakettle and moved back so it's exactly on the spot it usually sits. Every other bench is fine and every single morning Jacob puts it back, which is no small feat since it is cast iron.

See, he's removed all the obstacles and once again is faced with the glaring part.

Bridget isn't well.

She should be by now, shouldn't she? I took away everything she knows, and everything that was in my way. Why isn't she better now?

Gee, honey. Maybe because you're not listening. Because you know better. Because no one's going to believe her anyways. She, after all, manipulates you.
Whatever.

I'm done with therapy. All it does is pit us against each other and that isn't what I want.

And WHY in the hell does everyone keep calling me baby? That isn't yours to use.

(I don't recall saying anything I haven't said before.)

Hey.

Hey.

What gives, Bridge?

Did I call you? Nope.

Maybe you should have.

For?

Help, maybe? Maybe because if you'd talk to me I could help you? I don't understand you, why don't you just ask for help when you need it? What are you afraid of?

Nothing, I don't need help, Ben.

I think you do.

Then stop listening to the wrong people.

I read it straight from the whore's mouth, sweetheart.

Nice, creep.

Sticks and bones, baby. I miss the give and take. I miss you.

Is there something you need?

Reassurance that you're okay or I fly back and kick his ass.

Ben, you need to stay where you are and worry about you.

I can take care of myself. You can't say the same.

Ha. Then you don't know me, and you never did.

I know you and I know how you deal with these things and I know how passive you become.

That's 'submissive', Benjamin.

Fuck, Bridge, could you just stop wrapping it up like a present? Didn't I tell you before? It isn't any different.

Sometimes, no, it isn't.

Oh, Christ. Oh my God.

Not your concern, either, Tucker.

You're my concern, Bridget. So stop putting it back on me.

No, you stop. This doesn't help.

Are you asking for help, then?

No.

Fuck, Bridget, I can't deal with you.

Then don't. I was under the impression we weren't friends anymore.

Then you don't know me very well either, baby.

Less imflammatory than it appears to be.

    Nothing more to give
    I can finally come alive
    Your life into me
    I can finally breathe
    Come alive

    I lay there in the dark
    Open my eyes
    You saved me the day that you came alive

There's a trigger in here somewhere in the perfect. Waking up in the dark after being in the light so long. And he tried to fix it, taking a page from a history book, maybe not the right approach. He tried to turn the black around, he folded me against him and tried to bend me to respond to him by forcing me to do things that were so familiar I think I briefly forgot who he was and what has happened since.

We pulled it out of the fire later on, pretending to be each other and I had ammunition saved from sunrise and it showed him precisely that even when I'm out of it and messed up and not able to save myself I know exactly what's going on and what's happening to me. The shame of that revelation quickly forgotten since he's above it all. Who is going question him? Who will stand up to him now? Everyone is gone. His only concerns are my whims and where they lead me and sometimes, though I only catch the barest glimpse of the real one beneath the public face and the so-called openness, I know that I have met my match. I like that, and that is my biggest weakness. That ensures I'll be hurt, and I like that too.

Fuck.

Bear with me, here, the day's only halfway through. The rescue is underway but not complete.

No one's lit the halos, baby.

No one's even close.