Melt.

Crazier seemed to be a temporary affliction today. I, okay, we lived through it with no less than a concentrated heroic effort on my part to let him in. Because I don't. Because I can be rather cold and more than a little uptight. Because I can pretend until those cows arrive and then pretend a little more.

Instead I did what I have learned to do, I asked him for help long before everything went too far gone to rescue me and I put aside my coldness and I told Jacob I was really unhappy and out of sorts and not at all well today or this week even and I didn't like it and what do I do?

He talked me out of it, talked me down, gently reassured me and soon I felt like me again, a little tired but not as bad as usual.

He's a shaman. He bent a spoon while he told me stories from when he and August shared a house in California. All three weeks of it before Jacob realized he couldn't stand another moment of it. He said none of it was real. He had a beer one day at a restaurant and Clint Eastwood was eating at the next table. He said it was weird and unnatural and contrived, all of it. August had soaked it up but agreed it was weird and he was going to embrace the weirdness of it.

He unbent the spoon by hand, because he promised me he wouldn't permanently alter the cutlery anymore and he held me forever. Letting me cop out on life for a little while until I felt stronger, letting me try and match his heartbeat with my own, allowing me the comforts that keep me warm so I don't grow cold and distant and uncomfortable with only myself to talk to.

It's one of the things I love most about Jacob. He has as much time as is needed for me to feel better. He has answers for questions that mystify me. He has time. He has built-in nurturing that he pulls off effortlessly. He keeps me close. He worries about me, telling me as long as I stay warm to him he can rest easy. It sounds so simply but I work at it tirelessly just to squeak through.

Tonight he's working from home for a bit but has a church meeting in an hour, I just brought him a cup of hot tea and he smiled and put down his pen and asked me if I wanted to come down to the church after his meeting for a bit to keep him company, and he would call PJ to come over to keep house since the kids are already in bed.

I might just do that.

    Hold your light, Eleven.
    Lead me through each gentle step by step
    By inch, by loaded memory
    'till one and one are one, eleven,
    So glow, child, glow.

Catch her on your tongue.

Every snowflake is different, so sayeth the experts on useless projects like seeing if any snowflakes out there are alike.

So, if we're living by default, people would be the same way. Everyone different, and you can typecast and pigeonhole and stereotype until the cows come home and you can only shove a person so far into a box/type/category and then there they exist for you, rather painfully, with an arm bent down at an unnatural angle, maybe their feet stick out the bottom. Maybe they can't breathe, or maybe they don't like small places. Maybe they don't like being marked as a specific kind of human. Maybe they'd like to burst your bubble but you won't give them a chance. Maybe you don't see it because you would do anything to fit in, blend in, and then rise above. Maybe because instead of living by default you are living in anticipation of the snow to fall.

Winter has arrived and that means little Bridget is a little crazier than usual.

Popsicle mom.

I woke up with a new song in my head, convinced it was Sunday, and sure it was spring. Getting out of bed proved it wasn't a new song, asking Jacob confirmed it was indeed Tuesday and the wind outside proved that fall is soon to abruptly abandon us when winter comes calling.

Despite the light wind, I agreed to go with Jacob to take the motorcycle to Nolan, who generously offered up heated garage space for the bikes this winter. This is Jacob's first winter storing his own bike and he's loathe to let it go, that's why he waited so long. Sam and Ben have already taken their bikes down.

Right. Let's go! Fun awaits!

It was freezing. Not just cold, but ohmygodinheavenwhyarewehere? cold. So cold my body was frozen stiff. Adding to the cold was the insane wind that picked up a few minutes outside of the city and threatened to blow us off the road. Jacob told me not to worry but I still stuck my head directly behind his back, locked my arms around his waist and shut my eyes and prayed the whole way there. Hard. All I could envision was everyone shaking their heads in disapproval when they met for my wake and talked about how goddamned wild I was, jumping on Jake's bike and taking off, when I should have been home baking cookies for my children.

However, we lived.

I didn't come home and bake cookies, though. We came home and Jacob ran right past me up the stairs, stripped off his clothes along the way and by the time I reached the top, stopping to pick up everything he dropped, he had a steaming hot shower waiting for me. Cute naked guy included.

It was a really kind of wonderful offer in the middle of a Tuesday, so I took it. Now I have four sweaters on and longjohns and lined jeans and I still can't get warm but we had fun and we'll see the bike in April, if Jake can hold out that long.

I'll bake cookies after dinner, I think. And sit on the top of the stove to stay warm while they bake.

Ha, Jacob just came through the kitchen to get coffee and saw me sitting here wrapped in all these sweaters and asked if I was that cold. I asked him why he wasn't and he said he was so afraid we were going to be blown off the highway, raw fear kept him warm.

Lovely.

This wolf won't bite.

Today was a muddling-through day, a day when all the leaves have exhausted their grip on icy tree branches and a morning that saw me leaving footprints in the grass as I ran through sunrise in the freezing-cold swearworthy frost-covered day. I cut my run short, that's how cold I was. And I run in -40 weather.

Therapy kind of sucked. Mostly because I went alone today. Mostly because they didn't like it that I didn't want to talk about me. Lunch was nice, Ben took me to a little Italian place and we ate minestrone and bread until we were stuffed. His approach is so totally casual sometimes but I had to admit I failed to let down my guard with him despite his assurances that he doesn't run in Caleb's circles anymore. A little too fast for him, I think, but I'm still not playing a full hand until I can trust him again. Well, as far as I could ever trust Ben, who insists he doesn't read my "diary" and then tells me it isn't fair that I called him a wolf a few days ago. Ben will never change. He mostly was happy to lather me up with compliments and then throw cold water on my concerns that Jacob is starting to show serious signs of wear.

Preacher is fine. He just had a big job issue, plus he's coming down off crisis-mode. Give him a break, Bee.

I realize all of that but I also know Jacob better than anyone else. He's seriously showing signs of depression. I know it's contagious. I know how prone he is to losing it just when I catch up. He can only go so far before his wings collapse around us, his halo shines full of scratches and his easy-going demeanor gets replaced by short and clipped and no-time-for-this-foolishness retorts.

I wish I had Ben's let 'er fly attitude some days.

We wrapped up lunch, Ben paid (!) and he walked me back to the truck, giving me a quick hug and telling me once again that everything would be fine, to keep moving ahead and that he was headed to the bench to say hello to Cole and then he was going to go check in with PJ and Chris tonight and then get all of his laundry done in preparations to go back out on the road on Thursday. In a month he'll be home for good, back to his cube-farm on the twelfth floor of an indiscriminate building downtown and probably comfortable enough to return to the dirty jokes and suggestive comments that make Ben who he is.

A wolf in stage clothing.

In the woods.

   Come back home
    Come back for you
    Burn up the road

This morning my head is a quiet hot mess. Sort it out for yourself.

Mr. Intensity ratcheted life up seven or twelve notches. He keeps staring at me. As in, every time I move or catch his eye he is staring right into my soul. Even when he was making love to me he didn't take his eyes off mine. It was thrilling and disconcerting all at once. It's like he's trying to read me that deeply lately. I asked him what the heck he was doing and he said he just didn't want to miss a detail. Which is fine, except that I have a cold and I'm not that skilled at blowing my nose like a lady. Not that I was trying to blow my nose while he fucked me, because wow, would that ever be rude.

I need to learn to stop hitting people when I shove my arms into the sleeves of my coat. I almost clocked some poor woman yesterday.

I need to work through not taking it personally when Jacob has a bad day or is in a mood. I will shoulder it without questioning it. Submissive slides right into the front seat and drives it from bad to worse. Why? I don't know. I know it's the worry about all this stuff going on and I can't even talk about it but he isn't himself.

I need to find a way to work Ben into therapy without obsessing over how to be friends when I know and he knows and everyone knows he's no less...attached. It was easy with Jacob. I just fed it and fed off it and made no apologies or efforts to change it. But Ben isn't Jacob. Ben needs to figure it out and I resent him already for putting all of us in this position but he's gone again by Thursday and maybe just the simple fact of us being friends instead of not will fix it. Maybe time will fix it. That's a sarcastic observation, time seems to fix so little. But I wanted him in my life.

I have forgotten the sound of Cole's voice. I'm completely stunned by that. It's brought about a bit of an undercurrent of panic. What else will I lose of his? What would I miss? What do I need to keep or how do I retain good and lose bad? I didn't want to lose good first. This isn't right.

I'm doubtful today, riddled with insecurity and falling flat on my face when I thought I was off and running. They say it's clear progress, headway against my obstacles, learning how to cope and deal and circumnavigate, when in fact I think I'm really great at fooling people, distracting them with cute or sweet so that they don't see that it was only the princess riding a brief high which she will now promptly fall off of with a resounding thud.

Even Jacob doubts that this is what is happening but I'm not going to set myself up to be disappointed. I'm not out of the woods just yet.

The lazy beekeepers.

This morning brings a changed appointment time for family therapy, one whiny dog, one very cranky husband, two newly-sniffling children who can't be getting colds again, and an empty honey jar, which means I have to go grocery shopping. That's fine, there's only one loaf of bread left in the freezer and I don't have enough energy to bake so the less of two evils is the grocery store today.

I hate having to go buy honey. You'd think coming from a family of apiculturists and Christmas tree farmers, someone could send me some supply to keep up with the demand. Okay, so having a tree sent out would be a little much, but honey travels nicely.

I think this afternoon we'll grab a showing of Arthur and the Invisibles on TV and eat popcorn until we explode while Jacob goes and does a funeral (which sort of explains his mood) and then later on I'll make some chili because it's crockpot weather. Ben called to invite me out for lunch after therapy on Monday. Boy, is he brave. And I'm leaving now to go and have some more ink done. Non-visible tattoos are my favorite and it's time to add more lyrics.

This time It's a little more esoteric. You'll recall I had my all-time favorite lyrics inked on my leg two summers ago. So it isn't my first lyric tattoo and it certainly won't be my last. I just need to keep these words. It's hard to explain. Just like it's hard to explain why they only send honey quarterly. Some things are better left as mysteries.

Took the high-dive into your brain.

Giving police reports and listening as they tick off their list of in-the-interim and for your safety, Mrs. Reilly measures is becoming an unwelcome part of my day. It would be nice to run alone. It would be nice to do anything alone. I'm not used to liking being by myself at all and suddenly I find myself coveting and relishing the few minutes I am gifted to myself each day now.And still I'm trying to pretend it's just the way life is, eventually whoever is bothering us will get bored and stop or leave or be caught or whatever.

For those of you wanting to know what was written on the door, forget it-I've been asked not to publicize it in case, well, in case they actually catch the person. For those of you playing internet detective and thinking it's Ben harassing me, forget it too, he has hundreds of witnesses as to his whereabouts at any given time and he's been away for almost all of this.

I don't want any more emails about Ben and your guesses. Please. Instead, let's all focus our positive energies on good things like cinnamon bread (baking in the oven right now) and great metal videos on the internet. Loud ones.

Sigh. I have a soft spot for drummers. Cole's drum kit is still down in the music room, intact. Jacob wanted to break it down and pack it away for when Henry is older and I can't do it. Not yet. Besides, Henry is old enough and loves to play.

To remind you of summer, Piglet.

For two evenings he would disappear down into the workshop, door closed, radio on, with express instructions to me not to come in. I thought maybe he was finally going to get started on the big dollhouse he has told me he'd like to make Ruthie for Christmas this year.

Finally after spending two evenings knitting and listening to music and talking on the phone and becoming bored out of my skull, Jacob raced past me up the stairs three times each time yelling,

Don't look! Shut your eyes!

Then he came waltzing down the steps with a satisfied grin and told me to come up and see his surprise for me.

He said it was in our bedroom. The old summer bedroom with windows on three sides that is nestled in the trees at the very top of our old Victorian house, a room accessible only by passing through the bathroom that has the sink and the clawfoot tub but no toilet, that's in the water closet room at the top of the stairs. Once you cross the bathroom you duck down, if you're Jacob, and pass through a 3/4 sized door in the wall and hunch down the tiny hallway that opens up in what can only be described as a conservatory for all the branches framing the windows and all the sunlight that room receives in a day.

For the record, I don't have to duck or hunch getting into our room, it's perfectly sized for 5-feet-tall me.

All the lights were off upstairs. I went through the bathroom and opened our door and stepped into a...midnight garden.

Along the windows were hanging mason jars with fireflies in them. Not real fireflies, he made 18 of these beautiful pretend-firefly lights after seeing them in the new Signals catalog. He strung them in front of the windows and they look magical. It really completes what is a very simple airy room with the trees outside and the white painted furniture and pale green walls.

It made me happy. I have a long standing love affair with strings of tiny lights inside and outside the house and these are so pretty. I tried and tried to get decent pictures but they just don't work sufficiently. Suffice it to say it was a wonderful and effortful surprise.

Another surprise was that he convinced Sam to seek approval for another minister, a return to the former community minister set-up Jacob had before in Carolyn, who has moved on to different pastures. Jacob doesn't want to risk getting spread thin again and has opted not to take on hospice (or even the separate chaplaincy gig) this time around. I doubt the church will go for yet another salary dip into the coffers for a third minister but Jacob is adamant about not doing it. Which is weird but logical. I find it weird anyway. He usually jumps in with both feet. Before looking. I guess I can just chalk it up to him having a balance at last.

Oh and I won't mention the vandalism! Consisting of awful words scrawled with a key or an icepick or something! On my side of the truck! Cannot shake my happy mood! Ruining Jacob's father's awesome paint job! Fuck!

I'm trying so hard here, give me credit.

I think my luck is changing.

This morning was epic.

Just epic.

And I don't mean porn-epic, I mean therapy-epic. As in, all kinds of things fell into place and I was given confirmation that I did learn something after all and I'm using it unconsciously and it's working and damned if I'm not finally feeling like I'm getting somewhere.

I felt so good when I left today that by the time Butterfield and I ran down to the river to meet Joel for a run he laughed when he saw me, showing up all teeth and crinkled eyes in a huge smile. Had it been summer I would have had bugs in my teeth from all the wide grins. He laughed and congratulated me and said it's nice to see the corner turned and he's not cautious-these were huge advances, huge revelations, giant steps forward for this little bee. Things I hoped for but didn't expect I could pull off on my own.

I called Jake at work to tell him and I could hear his emotion through the phone. As if finally, goddammit, we're getting somewhere and not just dreaming that we are. Having that confirmation means the world to me today.

It's not a lightbulb moment though, I've just tried really hard to make headway without talking about it here. Sometimes good news needs to be shared and this morning my tears in the truck as I drove home alone were happy ones. Relief-ones.

Hopeful ones.

Hero worship.

Good morning Internet. I'm having my first cup of coffee and it's almost eleven. I've been running back and forth all morning fetching tools for Jacob, who is putting up the frames for the outdoor skating rink down on the field with the guys. It's a testosterone-fest as they all insist they can raise this section or carry this part by themselves. It's hilarious to watch them outdo each other and a little reminiscent of putting together anything from Ikea, only on a football field-sized scale.

The best way to handle both scenarios (building Ikea furniture and full-sized rink surfaces) is to profess your confidence that the men will have no problems, that they can build anything and go and get a coffee at Starbucks. Don't forget to bring back a couple of trayfuls for those strong and competent men, too and tell them they worked really hard.

Shhh. It works very well.

Ben did come over for dinner last night. I had to laugh. Ben made a crack about Zero the Hero finally granting him access to the princess and Jacob lobbed it right back by asking Ben what he wanted for a drink. Fearing a fistfight in my beautiful dining room I asked quietly for civility.

Oh, cool. I have their attention at last.

I asked Jacob to clarify for Ben why Ben was here. I pointed out to Ben that I had my reservations about dinner, about him being here, because I had wanted him out of my life for inflicting one round of pain too many and I wasn't going to put up with that from anybody. That he didn't have my best interests at heart. That he didn't want me to be happy, he wanted to be selfish. Ben's eyes went all glassy and then he got mad, pointing out that Jacob was just as selfish, that Jake was in this for Jake and not for me and then he just stopped.

Jacob probably kicked him under the table to shut him up.

Jacob cleared his throat and told us both that he knew I was miserable, foundering without my friends around me, drowning in life's new unfamiliarity and all the hard work that goes along with getting better. Ben rolled his eyes and Jacob pointed out that he was here under Jacob's good graces alone and to stuff it. Again, Ben listened to him.

This almost never happens.

Jacob continued. He wants all of us to put everything in the past away now. To continue to be friends without strings attached, to support each other and work with me to get me better.

Oh, I get it. He's using Ben.

To fix Bridget.

I didn't say a damned word. I just sat there trying to wrap my brain around it and I thought about how hard Cole would laugh right now to hear Jacob pontificating on the virtues of friendship and family. We all know Ben won't change any more than Jacob would ever change only Jacob's flaws are so much more virtuous and Ben is Tucker Max and here we go, back down that road.

I love Ben, I really do and I know he loves me (oh, don't I know exactly how much Ben loves me and he doesn't even bother to hide it anymore, reminding me of someone else.) but the difference is by being this way Ben still isn't being my friend. Try telling him that. I don't know if him being around in this capacity will help at all. Sure I miss him. I miss the way things used to be when I had no idea what deep roots his crush has formed.

Still, I was polite and more than accommodating. I took his apologies and his sincerity and his gratefulness at being with me and I swallowed all of it and waited to see what Jacob would say next.

But Jacob never said anything else, preferring to make light conversation about the upcoming hockey season and about what good pasta I make and how the kids are doing in school and by ten Ben made his way out with a promise to get together at least once more before he heads back out on the road next week.

Having won once again, Jacob shared cleanup duties with me and then took me to bed, where he indulged in the spoils of his one-man war. Me. He held his ego in one hand, heavy with pride and in the other hand he held me out generously, offering my fucked up friends one and only one final chance to get it right. Dangling me like a piece of meat over a pack of hungry wolves, if you ask me.

Let's hope this time everyone gets it right.