I need to go get dressed.

I'm determined. And I'm cold right now. A robe and bare legs and an empty coffee cup to bring a day that couldn't be as good as yesterday if it tried.

It could try, though. That would be terrific. As long as it ends on the couch with a plateful of samosas and Bridget sleepy and willing and some fun scary movie on the television it will end just as good.

In other news, it's snowing! Perfect for crazy carpets, less perfect for grocery shopping. The market is closing forever and I'm going to have to figure out how to get the things I need at the other stores that I don't enjoy and really such is life. Changes, progress, learning how to not get too comfortable because then you get mired in ways that make it hard to adapt.

Adapt or die, princess.

Yes, indeed.

Now bring on the samosas, fool, and let's get this show on the road.

Thanks for the cake, boss.

Wait for the light
But you've been still sly
Baby, it's not your sleigh ride
But this yet it's ours
And maybe tomorrow
We're gonna see
Things we'd never believe
I'll make you want me, you'll see

I sorted out payroll yesterday, streamlining it into a better system and making it easier to keep track of everyone. Caleb's accountant has nothing on me. Seriously. In between I was permitted to teeter around the loft calling Daniel repeatedly to see how he was, and in our discussions of a second Thanksgiving dinner to please the Americans among us I mentioned my plans to swing by the market and get the stuffed turkey breasts because I lost track of the days and forgot to defrost the frozen turkey I had.

Satan overheard.

When does he not overhear? I am tempted to start having fake phone conversations with myself and start spreading wild rumors, just for fun. Maybe I'm hard on him, he is very generous. He had dinner catered, on a whole four hours notice. Four courses, dessert (CAKE. Oh my God.) and sparkling soda and juice. Real dishes, two servers, and dinner for fifteen, which meant two tables in two different rooms and dessert on the floor around the fireplace. Music came in the form of Badly Drawn Boy (I've grown attached) and PJ's mom was thrilled at the decadence with which Caleb carries out his holidays. I told her that was nothing and he said he would be thrilled to show himself up for Christmas even. I thought it was a strange thing for him to attempt to invite himself for Christmas considering I had already booked his tickets for the Caribbean, for Caleb and his 'guest' (Holiday girlfriend? Well-compensated companion? Whatever.) She travels with him every now and then and is hoping he'll settle down, I'll bet, and let her loose with her own expense account.

I daresay she is wasting her time. Do I need to mention that she is a Bridget-clone? Seriously. Only way taller.

Okay, but back to dinner, because gravy like we had only pours from heaven and there's no way I can get french bread that warm and still soft at the same time because it just doesn't happen. The icing on the cake though (and I don't mean the double-chocolate torte that had Bridget written all over it) was checkers.

The kids really liked the fact that they beat EVERY grown-up in the room at checkers.

Cutthroats, my kids are. Merciless. Vindictive.

So I will give thanks for that and for what turned out to be another very lovely evening. What's sad is that I spent it listening still, for the sound of that other shoe dropping.

(PS overnight the rest of the cake disappeared into Ben. Should I let that go? I should let it go. Trying.)

Daydreaming.

Since I've been above you seen and loved you so
You pick a place that's where I'll be
Time like your cheek has turned for me

Back to work today. I don't need the whole week off since Daniel is home now (at my house) and doing a lot better. Schuyler is looking after him. There's a turkey frozen solid in the deep freeze and I'll swing by the market on the way home to pick up some stuffed breasts. Otherwise, Happy Thanksgiving (again)!

Today so far I have eaten eleven butterscotch lollipops, walked over to the printer four times and the last time came back to my desk with a splinter which I can't figure out because hello? A splinter? I don't think I even touched anything. And my throat is very sore and scratchy so I'm trying to baby it with tea and suckers because tea gets cold fast and I brought some carrots and celery for lunch but I hope since it's been a long week that someone will swing by and take me out for lunch but I won't plan on it and this skirt is itchy and you know what?

(Take a breath, Bridget)

I would rather be home nestled on the couch with my arms around Ben's neck and my face in his shirt.

That would be good.

Oh so good.

But darn everything and jobs and obligations. In my future post-apocalyptic utopia all work will cease to exist and we will all be free to indulge in endless preferred activities. Number one on my list will be resting my face on flannel-wrapped heartbeats.

You totally thought I would say something else, didn't you?

Clementines in miniature. For the brutes.

I took the hand that was offered only because this weather has settled into a mild winter but everything is covered with a thick layer of bumpy ice and it's very hard to walk on, especially in heels. The hand that was offered in a sort of ownership way, just like my schedule that was set for me. Movie on Saturday, tree cutting on Sunday. I forget about my indignation as I feel my balance wane and I grab the arm that's attached to the hand so I don't land on my head. The arm stiffens and the conversation shifts.

Tell me about your leg bothering you. And you should be wearing decent boots.

It's just a little inflammation. I'm fine. And the boots seem popular. They allow me to be taller.

Don't delude yourself. You still only come up to here.

Nice.

Your leg-

-is fine, PJ.

K. I see you're going to be difficult today.

I'm tired.

Don't let that happen, baby.

Easier said than done.

Is it too much to have them at the house?

No, it's easier. And it keeps me busy. Daniel and I keep good company.

Yeah, that's true.

Another near-miss and we dropped the conversation in favor of another.

Did I tell you I think I've got a date this weekend?

You think you have a date? What, are you hoping she'll ask you so you don't have to stick your neck out?

In a perfect world, sure.

Well, I hope it all works out.

Me, too.

You might want to tip the odds in your favor and ask her out already.

Bridget? Are you giving out relationship advice?

Why not? At least I've had a few.

That went down in flames...

At least there was fuel for my fire.

Oh, that was all kinds of funny. Haha.

Feel the burn, PJ.

That brings me back to your leg. I think you're minimizing how much it hurts.

Do we have to talk about my leg? I wouldn't be wearing these boots if it was that bad. I'm just taking a few weeks off from running, that's all. I'm fine. Change the subject.

What would you like to talk about?

Girls!

This is why you're my best friend, Bridge. Seriously.

Could you slow down then? I'm going to fall and break something in a minute.

Focus on Daniel, you idiots.

Looks like another day staring at this print in the hallway, which I love anyway, being a van Gogh fangirl and thinking about this message that was kindly forwarded to me:

No, man, she put herself squarely in between Ben and Caleb. Together they practically invoke Cole. Which puts her as far away from preacher boy as she could get. It's a knee jerk for sure. I gave it a year but she's still holding on to him so we'll give it another and see where she is then. What's sad is that everyone thinks they can be the one to make a difference. We all want the same thing. Makes me infuckingsane.

Update.

Thank you if you're praying. We've been home for a little while. Daniel has a hefty list of minor injuries, or maybe they're major, I have no idea, I'm just thankful it wasn't any worse. He looks like he got the wrong end of a hockey stick in the face. A broken nose, concussion. Some bruising. Okay, a lot of bruising. He'll be purple-dan by tomorrow. They're keeping him for a few days and then we'll bring him here and spoil him rotten for a few weeks.

It took a lot of convincing to get Schuyler to come here to stay too. He's still at the hospital with Daniel and is worse-off emotionally. They were fighting and from what I gather ultimatums were given and Daniel took off his seatbelt because Schuyler was going to pull over and let him out. But the ice was black and it was still dark and the car is toast.

Daniel was almost toast, and I'm so glad he's okay. So glad to the point where the other shit pales because this is bigger. I daresay it will be a cold day in hell before Schuy forgives himself and we all started suggesting he see a counselor. It broke the black ice around Daniel's bed, anyway. Even Satan showed up, since it was cold there in hell, to check on Daniel and give me the week off because I'm the closest thing to a mother/sister/lover that Daniel has.

You know what I mean.

I'm rattled. Going to bed now.

This morning Schuyler lost control of his car and rolled it into a ditch. Daniel wasn't wearing his seatbelt and he's pretty smashed up but he'll be okay. Schuy is okay. They were fighting. Everyone's shaken.

Prayers would be appreciated.

Metal Christmas.

Fall on your knees
Oh, hear the angel voices

Far be it for me to be the only one to feel things so pointedly.

Sam is gathering up his resources for another very special candlelight Christmas eve service at church this year, it's only thirty days away so he's doing well to work hard to keep it simple, stark and profound. And it seemed safe to reinstitute the highlight of the service each year, having lost it a few times since I began to share it with you. One year being the Christmas that Jacob had the cold to end all colds and actually gave up right in the middle of a sermon, and the other year was last year and I don't know what they did because I was hardly present and not in a position to do or remember much of anything past spending Christmas staring at the fire trying not to cry for Jacob, while Ben held my hand.

Maybe that's why this year Sam is giving Ben the glory moment of the service. I'm not even sure that Ben wants it, because Ben and church aren't all that friendly. But Ben and music, extremely friendly. To the point that I might be jealous. And if you recall me whingeing romantically about wailing, ragged male voices singing, I'm in for a treat.

Sam asked Ben to sing the closing carol this year. Ben with his beautiful three-octave voice. O Holy Night. A song that seems to give everyone chills. Only this year Sam would like to hear the whole thing. And Ben does fine til he hits the second Noel. He stops breathing or something and cracks the note but he's been working on it all morning and I'm almost a puddle on the floor. I'll need the next month to learn not to cry while he's singing this one. Some of the songs he sings, it just happens, like turning on a tap, but I'm working on it.

I held the phone out for PJ and I'm sure it made him cry too, he just won't admit it.

Ben shows up Josh Groban, anyway. I just need to convince him to do it without the guitar. But he's always put a lead on his carols. Doesn't everyone?

PS The hilarity ensues in email. Let me clarify one thing: This is for the late service. Sam will not be inflicting Ben on the early congregation. Ben scares the little old ladies with his tattoos and his nail polish, even though if they would just speak to him they would see how non-scary he can be.

Pair bonding.

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky
but why can't it be mine?

I know his hands and his heart are hurting but he was there, last night. When I turned over to burrow deeper beneath the blankets in the cold air of night his arms opened to pull me in against him and I woke up fully and put my nose against his shoulder and opened my eyes and then closed them again. His hands slid up around my neck and then his thumbs came to rest in front of my ears, his fingers cradling my head against his skin. So, so warm. Kisses, hot, searching. I put my arms around his neck and he lifted me underneath him, exhaling out loud, trembling against me as he pushed me down hard, his hands leaving my head to wrap around my back. He kissed up underneath my chin, along that magic goosebump path to my heart and I locked around him. We didn't sleep anymore and when the sun came up he took my hand in his and pulled me with him under a hot shower.

So I could see the extent of the bruises. Both knuckles raw and the shadow of a landed strike on his cheekbone. I didn't say a word. If they want to continue to use their fists to solve their issues with each other well past their twenties then I'm going to ignore all of it. I can now. After a difficult morning in which I wanted to just stop worrying, Lochlan called me and said he and Ben made their peace, took each other to the ground and got over themselves, but he is going home to be with his daughter and regroup and he'll be bringing her back her with him for Christmas this year, if we'll have him. More apologies, more hesitant admissions that none of us seem to know what we're doing anymore and I stopped him mid-sentence. I stopped him because my conviction came bubbling back up from the depths and I said that I know what I'm doing and I know who I want to be with and I know I'll fuck up and tell you I don't but in my head things have changed.

I'm not cold at night anymore. The part of the night I did sleep, I slept hard, one hand stretched out to touch Ben's shoulder, forehead pressed against his arm as I listened to the sound of his peaceful, shallow breath. He doesn't seem to have caught on that when I want to wake him up at four in the morning, I can just put my hand over his mouth. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. But since it's already dark again, I'll spare you all my useless facts about Canada geese and simply point out that I will happily get no sleep tonight at all. At least, that's what I've been told.

Warpath.

Ben is home. And we're learning the usual character-building lessons along this way, learning about the fine balances that exist in all of us between our own selfishness and the need to protect the welfare, and well-being, of those we love. It's such a very fine line, you can see where we have all crisscrossed back and forth over it so many times, it's hard to tell it's even still there. It's the difference between what you really want and what you know is right, or better for everyone. It's a struggle, that's for sure, and if we need to be the poster children for building that kind of character then someday I'm going to be the most magnificently graceful human you have ever seen.

But who cares? He's home. He's home and he's plotting to go remove alpha from his selfish perch and some of the guys offered to help Ben because they're pissed at Lochlan for messing with my head so badly but really the risk is one I take and so it falls on me and I'm trying to assume that Loch holds his own internal struggle on a daily basis that means he is just as human as I am.

But he does need an attitude adjustment, and since Ben has no qualms about taking a good hard swing at anyone who threatens the fragile happiness of one tiny little insignificant Bridget, I think Lochlan would be smart to take his epic and flawed humanity and run.