Or I could just set my outfit on fire.

It's fucking FREEZING outside today. It's actually less cold than yesterday but yesterday I was preoccupied and didn't really notice. This morning when I threw on a robe and slippers over my birthday suit and ran downstairs to let Butterfield out I got a good heaping serving of cold on my bare legs. I haven't sworn that much in a very long time.

I wish the rim of the coffeepot were just a little wider, just enough so I could dip my knees or my shoulders in and warm them just a little. The furnace might be set higher than it's ever been before. I keep yelling at the kids to go put on slippers and sweaters and possibly hats because I feel cold. They look at me like I have six heads.

The dog looks inviting. Too bad he sleeps in Ben's bed and not mine. I could use the body heat.

The only things that are warm today are my ears, filled with the crystal clear reception of Ben's voice this morning on the phone, wishing me a good day, telling me he spent a miserable night trying to sleep without unconscious-Bridget-sighs and t-shirt sheets. I smiled and I couldn't say anything at all, and the gap was so long between words he thought we got cut off and he hung up and called back. When he did his voice was softer. He said he didn't want me to cry, he didn't want me to miss him, he just wanted me to look forward to when he comes home. I nodded and he said I had to answer out loud and we laughed. He loves me. I responded in kind and then he understood where the silence came from.

A bit of a shaky laugh at the end of our call, this seems so much harder than it should be. And this time I have planned for a relatively quiet month ahead. I'll be here by myself getting us through the days and nights until spring break, until Ben's homecoming. It won't be difficult, it will just be quiet. The boys are mostly entrenched in work and life and I have pulled away a tiny bit to take the pressure off of all of them, they have gone so far above and beyond the call in our friendships.

I'm standing on my own two feet and they work, I can take steps and it isn't an agony of effort on my part. Very mild and optimistic progress.

I sound like I have spring fever, don't I? Maybe I do. Maybe I know that on the other side of the next month, Ben comes home. I know that on the other side of being lonely is being loved. I know that on the other side of this goddamned cold there will be warmth. And if I distract myself and stay busy and keep working as hard as I can, eventually we'll be there. With Ben, in love and warm.

It isn't much to ask for. Perhaps it's just the right amount.

Test for echo.

The weather managed to overshadow the doubts that weighed us down, and Ben's plane finally got out before lunch.

I only had to buy an extra fifteen minutes of parking time after sitting in the lot alone in his truck sobbing after he left. Then I wiped the mascara off my chin and gave a mighty sniff and drove myself home in the blizzard we're having to a house that now most certainly does seem less full, less warm and less content than it did only a few short hours ago when the howling wind woke us up and Ben pulled me under him for one final chance to make it count before we had to kiss each other's skin goodbye for a while.

The kids and I circled his return date on the calendar and will mark off days as they end until we reach that magic one in March when he comes home tired and happy and worn out and ready for a vacation. Hopefully when he comes back it will be with the same desires he took with him, rolled tightly and packed in amongst his notebooks and his clothes.

This is a good break. A perfect opportunity to see what happens now, when we're apart. To see if everything means as much, to see if we still have the same feelings after a few weeks of distractions and life alone. To see if parting on good terms, on the best terms leaves our hearts as fond and barren as they did when we'd fight to the death. We're cautiously optimistic and optimistically cautious for once.

And for once, I hope the time flies.

Icing.

See this box?

Yes.

Don't open it. You can guess what it is but you're not allowed to open it.

Okay.

Well?

Well, what?

Aren't you going to guess at what it is?

Okay. Is it a Sigur Ros CD?

Little small for that, don't you think?

Well, then is it a grizzly bear?

Brid-get. Be serious, now.

Is it a marshmallow?

Wrong, all wrong. Guess you'll have to wait until the fourteenth to find out.

You're not going to leave it on the table all week like that, are you?

Yes, I am, actually.

Oh, well, that's just mean.

So was guessing that I was going to give you a bear or a marshmallow for Valentine's Day. Or a Sigur Ros CD, of all things.

Huh?

I keep getting picture messages of Snoopy valentines. I think he is proud indeed. That or he's trapped in the Hallmark store and the pictures are actually cries for help.

Bridget and the little green monster.

    This won't break your heart
    But I just think it could
    Cause I haven't tried as hard as I should
    To separate you from everything I do
    But I would never want to come between us two

    I'll keep your memory vague
    So you won't feel bad about me
    I'll say the things that you said
    Sometimes so it reminds me

Here's a post that's going to make a lot of people happy.

For it's....er...honesty.

The white horse is a white truck, an F-150 that rarely sees dirt and carries the noblest of heroes. A guy in a black cowboy hat and an old army coat who never holds much of a grudge, thankfully.

A guy who smells like shaving cream and toothpaste and Marlboros.

The truck and the hero were waiting when I came out of the church, planning to head past the school, collect the kids and then come home and start dinner. I was hoping that my phone was found ( it was, in said army coat) and that I could give back the stupid blackberry, having grown weary of fielding the sheer number of female callers. Did he get that many calls a day? Did he still keep in touch with so many girls?

He wasn't surprised at the calls, he reminded me they come out of the woodwork just before he goes. He wanted to go to the school with me and then he said he'd take us out for dinner.

He asked me not to go see Joel next week, to just keep that night free and he would try his best to get back for it.

We went for dinner and the kids chatted about their days, still coughing a little but worlds better than the weekend. When we left the restaurant, close to six, he took my elbow and stopped me and pointed out the sky. It was still light out and I stopped dead in my tracks to watch the sunset and marvel that we are indeed almost halfway through February and into spring and this may have been the shortest winter of my life. I thought it would be the longest.

We came home, got the day cleaned up and stowed away as yet another entry logged in our history books and Ben asked me out of the blue not to mess with things. Not to mess with my getting better, not to experiment. That everything would be okay and that he would take his pills if I would continue to take mine. Taking a common and quiet bond and just asking me to think about not changing a thing right now despite the fact that everything is always changing.

It never stops changing.

I'm not looking forward to the weekend. I'm not looking forward to the next month of being alone again, he no longer wants to go at all and we're both a little hesitant to thrust him back into a situation of being on the road with it's own hazards and pitfalls.

And so he left the light on once again. Wanting to take in every moment, every second of us and whatever fledgling love is there. He found a deeper intensity and we rode it through until morning and when the sun rose, his hand slipped on my skin and my pearls ripped away from my neck. Several spilled on the floor, the necklace was old and it had broken in four places and he said he would buy a new one, forgetting who gave it to me and I didn't say a thing but I made a note that he now owes me a memory.

This morning the I love you exchanged in a hurry as he walks out the door wasn't the usual one we have said for years as we part. This one held the same letters but a completely different meaning and we both stared at each other for a long moment, wondering if the other meant what we meant, realizing that we both did, after all.

It felt a little weird. Sort of like falling in love with your brother. I can say that and be the little bitch because it keeps me from his hurt.

We're ignoring this elephant, him leaving. When I said I could never have a life with Ben, I wasn't being dramatic. He leaves, I feel abandoned. He used to go a lot more, perhaps it was a way to get back at me for casting him aside in favor of Jacob's attentions so long ago. Letting Jake slide into second place and Ben got pushed to the back burner to burn to the bottom of the pot.

He always said I was out of his league and I never understood that. I thought it was the other way around. And now I don't want him to go and it's less about the abandonment. The rest of the guys are here, Ben's gone before.

I'm jealous.

I don't want to know that girls are constantly calling him and following him and offering themselves to him. I am spoiled rotten. I like being the only one in his radar, the only one within reach. I like being the only one on his mind. And all the guys can tell me until they're blue that these girls aren't on their minds, and that they don't have names or personalities or memories for them but in the end it doesn't help.

I want to be the only one in his arms. I want him to know that I'm not out of his league, I think he might be out of mine.

I think my heart must be growing back. I've never been jealous like this. Vindictive, sure, just never jealous. What an awful, stupid, immature feeling.

Ben will be so proud.

Short and sweet.

I'm working at the church today so I'll be brief. Because Sam. Unorganized. Everything. I. did. last. time. and geez.

I don't own a Veyron. I picked a fast car to use as an example.

I said no, for the record. I always say no. The reasons are not what you think. Just because I tell you stuff doesn't mean I tell you everything.

Christian goes on his fifth date with Chloe tonight. No, I haven't met her but he never shuts up about her and I am so happy for him.

Valentine's Day is coming. As far as I know Joel and I are staging a mutiny against romance and will be at his place having an unromantic dinner and watching UFC highlights. It began as a joke and was put in place long before Ben and I got together and of course long before Joel and I stopped speaking to each other but he hasn't cancelled. In the event that he does cancel I am accepting offers so give it your best shot. I have a sitter.

The kids are doing much better. Still with colds but sleeping and attending school even. Hurrah.

PJ doesn't have a girlfriend but again, taking offers.

I'm thinking of going off my pills. Why? I don't know. Just because I wonder what it will be like with no Jake around to make me half insane. Will I do it? Doubt it. Ben cannot pick up the pieces. He is too busy holding his own innards together. Besides, he won't be here. He's on the road again effective the 9th. He offered not to go as if it were an option for him. I don't know why he did that but it didn't help, it just painted his desperation with a rosy glow. Gave it purpose.

Butterfield may have eaten my phone. I couldn't find it, didn't even have time to call it to see if I could hear it hiding somewhere. I'm guessing if the dog didn't eat it it's in someone's pocket. Ben tossed me his on the way out this morning and I've been the proud recipient of seven surprised girls calling him and leaving messages when I said I was his assistant. Yeah...you don't even WANT to know what they said but they know he's headed out and in case he wanted company he presumably has their numbers.

I'm never ever taking his phone ever again.

Not a great day. Just a day. When I'm done filing and boring myself stupid I'm going to walk around singing at the top of my lungs. The acoustics in here are phenomenal. I can hear myself singing. That never happens.

    I'm the voice inside of you, that says there's nothing you can't do.
    If you could open up your eyes and lay your heart out on the line.
    I'm the voice inside your head, that brings your mind back from the dead.
    I hope that I have served you right, even if only for one night.

    I'm not religious or fanatical, but I'm a motherfucking miracle
    You knock me down and I get up again.
    So hit the lights out and let the show begin.

Wizard of Awe.

I keep tripping over the same hole in my brittle, dumbstruck, beautifully vacuous way. Or so I am reminded.

Barely-there, Bridget. Now pay attention, please.

I get tired, the doubts crowd back in and everything goes straight to hell. So nevermind me while I trip and stumble my way through life for a bit. I'll get wherever I'm supposed to be, eventually.

Possibly sooner than later, if you can believe it.

I'm sitting in a Veyron at a stoplight. The car can do it, I'd be at the ocean by lunchtime.

(Go, Bridget, go.)

I just need some gas and a little courage. Not that stupid thimbleful I usually hold, but a trunkful of the stuff. Perhaps I can buy some, beg, borrow or steal a little strength just for the hard parts and I promise I will return it with interest when I get there. I would roar off into the sepia horizon while a ticker-tape parade heralds my departure. Don't think for a moment that I won't.

(There she goes.)

Last night Ben brought me home a present. I seriously think that instead of paying attention when he's driving he's surfing my journal from his blackberry. He needs to not do that. But still he did and he knew he was walking into a bee's nest and he knew it was late so he stopped into a store and he brought me a candy necklace.

He didn't say a thing. He put it on me and I sat with him while he ate dinner and then he peeked in on the kids and turned out most of the lights and took my hand and led me all the way down to his end of the house, pulling the blanket over our heads and leaving the light on his night table on and he ate the necklace right off my neck and I didn't get any at all. He never touched the light to turn it off, he never said a word, he never let me get more than an inch or two away from him at any time which was amazing to me somehow.

When I was sticky and exhausted and near tears because he can be so sweet without saying a thing he burst the bubble once again.

I'm not in the Veyron suddenly, he pushed me out and took the wheel and left me standing by the road again. Do I get back in the damn car or do I turn away and go home?

(Wait. Which way is home? No one will tell me.)

He asked me to marry him. Again.

(Bridget, where are you headed?)

He didn't say why but I think sometimes the patience isn't as easy to hold on to as he says it is.

And I know why, I don't need him to tell me.

No, there is more. I'm also very tired.

There is no relief today from the dark self-doubting, fumbling, bumbling, scared, freaked out uncomfortable miserable girl who lives in my head. None at all. I am supposed to swallow pills and talk this stuff out and then it's not supposed to be so bad but some moments I can't get out of the way fast enough and it steamrolls me flat. Some moments I'm just so afraid.

Of what?

I don't know.

I don't even know who won the games. Someone will tell me.

Instead of a weekend filled with hockey and football and friends, we had a weekend filled with frightening fevers and a trip to Emergency Saturday afternoon and I was so scared I was relieved when PJ took Ruth out and they went shopping for musical instruments while I sat and tried to keep Henry awake for the long wait.

Ben was on the ice, I had asked PJ to leave a message for him only there weren't enough details and signals got crossed and it was close to seven Saturday night when Ben came charging through the waiting room at last after trying four different clinics and saw us coming out. He and Loch promptly went at each other and were kicked off hospital grounds, thanks to Loch using his 'I have it under control' attitude instead of realizing at that point that Ben didn't even know who was sick or injured or what the fuck was going on and he panicked.

Yes, lovely.

Henry will be fine. His 103.5 was quickly relieved with tylenol and he has a whopping aggressive case of strep. Henry is the sort of child who will tell you he's fine when he's miserable and Saturday around lunchtime I couldn't get him to sit up or wake up long enough to get him to answer a question. It was an incredibly oddly scary moment for me and I'm the sort of mother who only panics if you pass me your severed limb.

In any event, much understanding and patience was shown on Ben's part, who wound up left out of the loop so completely I expected him to withdraw, to be bitter and resentful and instead all he did was ask PJ to take his truck so that he could drive us home instead. He and Loch are presently seven years old and not speaking to each other. Never a good thing.

I went up four times the last two nights to check Henry and I didn't do it alone, to give him more water and more Tylenol while the penicillin began to work. He is fine today, he keeps pointing out how great it is that he's less floppy.

This morning we slept in until nine again, Ben's arms curled firmly around me to show that no matter what happens, good or bad, he's here for the long haul, as he has always been. He took a couple days off, mostly so I can catch up on sleep. I'm completely exhausted and treading in dangerous water, but frankly I don't care. Henry doesn't have meningitis or anything scary but by 6 pm Saturday I had resorted to asking God for favors.

He listened.

Pecking orders.

Family meetings with my boys don't seem to work very well after no sleep, trips to Emergency and shoving matches outside in the snow. They also won't work if everyone is going to pull rank, refuse to listen and be jerks in a general sense.

It's par for the course. It's Supertestosteronebowl Sunday. And no, I'm not blaming them because they're men, I'm blaming them because they need to have a little more patience right now. This isn't about them and we really don't need this shit right now.

10 a.m. snapshot.

I'm watching Tool live and loving the raw voice.

I'm still eating red pistachios.

I'm in my favorite cardigan from Anthropologie along with woolen tights, because it's cold.

My new razor cellphone never stops ringing, though mine is a pretty silver instead of blue.

I'm looking forward to seeing Switchfoot live, later this spring.

I've become highly addicted to Reddit,  so much so that I had to join. I've never laughed so hard as I do at comments there.

I'm stocking up on over the knee socks, because they are the best ever. Should I get the pink or just stick with black?

I'm planning a Snowbeque tonight to coincide with the best day of the week.

I've had the words completely fucked out of me, I think. So nevermind posting today.





Have a great day.