It will do for now.

coercion
Improper use (or threat of improper use) of authority, economic power, physical force, or other such advantage, by a party to compel another to submit to the wishes of its wielder. Agreements entered into, or testaments signed, under coercion are considered illegal and invalid. See also duress and undue influence.

Olives and outrage, both absent.

And you're right to love him
And you're right to want to
Close the door and lock me in
Break the key and chase the blood out of my veins

Streaming down the side streets,
Where the city ends
And the dead ends meet
Bite your lip and smile
I have many holes to fill
And I'll find them all

She holds them in her hand
But when she lets go she knows
It's the last time that she ever will again

In an effort to prove he is not the bad guy, and as part of his stipulations in my job description, Caleb has decided I absolutely must accompany him on his trip this weekend. It isn't far, just Toronto for two nights, but he's on a mission to unpaint himself as Satan, and in light of last weekend, I wish him luck with that.

We leave tomorrow evening, and will return Saturday afternoon or evening, and I will get a chance to shop in stores that we don't have here, and he'll get a chance to show off his charm when he takes me to the fundraising ball. He said I'll get a chance to play princess and it's been a while, and I pointed out I'll have no one to turn to when he turns into a monster out of fighting range from my boys, who pretty conveniently forgot this aspect of Caleb's ability to play dirty and what's wrapped up in a pretty bow as 'Bridget gets a shopping trip away and might have to coordinate a dinner or take notes at a meeting on the side' is really just another insidious opportunity for Caleb to have his favorite completely unrestricted access to me.

For those who worry about my children being home alone with Ben (and Daniel, bless him) for two nights, don't. They will be fine. They love their stepdad and their uncle very incredibly much and it means Ben stays home because he is unequivocably needed. I wish I had the same power over him that my children do.

For those who worry about me, stop pulling my leg. You don't exist. No one worries about me. Not anymore.

Mmmmfmmtscht.

Someone really needs to take these garlic-stuffed olives away from Bridget.

That is all.

Imaginary vacations.

I suck at emailing. Text message me or ICQ and I'm there, perpetually available. So if you left me a recommendation for something to try related to this post, you're in luck, I have an update.

Because I know I leave things dangling too and you're never really sure what's going on and then I drop it altogether. I'm an annoying blogger, I think. I could probably help it but then I'd have to round it out by telling you things I don't think I should be telling you. But then you know what's going on and then I'll get shut down and let's just..well, let's play nicely and see where we get. I will try to be better at email.

Oh, look, there go the pigs again. They look so pretty against the blue.

The update is, it isn't just dry. It's eczema. Something I have fought with since I was a little kid and something that only surfaces in times of stress. So the solution? Try to keep the stress to a minimum.

I'll wait while you laugh.

So I'm covered with a lovely case of eczema, which is fine if I just let myself itch to death and I don't touch it. And my fingertips, especially my thumbs cracked open so the physical pain returns with a vengeance and if I ever had an inkling that my entire body was going to revolt against the issues faced by my mind I think I would....

Be right where I am right now, obviously. Battling stress, both real and nonexistent, which is my very favorite kind of stress. You know, spill some milk, fall apart. Be oddly removed and distant from actual stress but find the perceived and potential small stresses completely overwhelming.

Oh, what's that? You didn't want that kind of update and were looking for better news about what's going on with everything else?

Me too.

Here, I saved you a place in line. Let's listen to some vintage Motorhead while we wait.

Stricken dumb, cut and run, someone is screaming and the sky is dark

All dressed up and no place to go.

Hypnotize the desperate
Slow motion light
Wash away into the rain
Blood, milk and sky
Hollow moons illuminate
And beauty never dies

The best thing about the internet today. (<--x games goodness on youtube)

The music today is White Zombie, a pace set in the car when Mike turned before pulling away from the curb in front of my house and asked me if I had any preference today. He called me Ms. C____ and I corrected him, again, still pissed at Caleb's insistence on using my maiden name or his last name instead of the other two. I know it's confusing for you but it isn't confusing for him, he just likes to claim me as his or revert me back to pre-Cole.

I'm at work now, at my beautiful little desk pretending to work on revised trip plans since Caleb didn't go away over the Christmas holidays and has decided he still wants a break. It gets cold up here for hell, you know. In reality I am writing and messaging a blue streak with Lochlan, who is really thrilled that I'm not quitting which is interesting because I was PRETTY SURE I DID but the collective powers that be have decided that not only is it very healthy for me to have a routine but it's also incredibly unhealthy and against all of the rules for Ben and I to be home alone all day together isolating ourselves from the world.

So Lochlan cashed in his chips and aligned with Satan finally, who was able to exact undue influence and just to show how serious this is, they made sure to squeeze Ben just hard enough to bump him off the wagon and he promptly climbed back on and raised his finger at them in a glorious Fuck You gesture but for the sake of all that is good and holy, I'm totally trapped in this nightmare of big insolent brothers who would much prefer to leave me dangling out in harm's way lest anyone pull anything over their eyes ever again. I have to stay or they hurt Ben.

Thanks, Cole. This is all your fault.

That said, do you think Caleb would be pissed if I booked him tickets to Novosibirsk instead of the BVIs? I'm considering it.

Twenty-four hour reprieve.

Around lunchtime at the farm today, a knock on the door interrupted Grace, and Nolan went to see who was outside. It was a courier with a small box tied with a pink ribbon. For Miss Bridget Lund.

There's only one person in the world who uses my maiden name anymore. I'm on my fourth last name, I doubt anyone else remembers it. My mom, maybe.

In the box was the Blackberry Bold I had reluctantly returned to Caleb. And a notecard that said simply,

See you tomorrow, princess.

On not getting out in time.

False start.

We're actually leaving in a few hours for the farm. We'll do a bedtime run so that the kids can sleep in the truck the whole way. Now that Caleb has left, now that Ben is okay again. You know, the usual. I wasn't going to drive in the blizzard, by myself with the kids last night. I much prefer to sit and not pass unspoken judgement and listen as Ben drives and tries all kinds of different angles, first for indignation, then justification, then for forgiveness. As if saying a certain number of words changes a thing.

Does it?

Would it, I mean?

It's not up to me to justify or forgive. It's not up to me to be angry with him just like it's not up to him to be angry with me for trying to sidle out of a decision that was reached on my behalf so that all interested parties would retain their unrestricted access to me and the rest would be absolved as long as that access was maintained. I wasn't aware of such an agreement and thought I might have a say in whether or not I keep my job. The 'job' description so loosely defined at this point I'm just about ashamed of myself, and I haven't done anything that wasn't (isn't) fully sanctioned.

The only thing I was aware of was that everything was beginning to fall apart and I was trying to head that off.

So I don't know what I've done but it's gotten very complicated and so I'm glad we're going away. We can sort it all out with the horses and the snowmobiles and some pond hockey and be all Kinkade-Christmas-card about it and if we can make it pretty enough maybe it will taste better.

Or maybe it will poison us for good.

Leaving well enough alone.

I'm taking a half-dozen of my slednecks and the two wee ones and we're going to the farm for the weekend. Daniel is going to stay in the house and oversee the menagerie and on Monday I will be back. It's been a long week. Too long, maybe, and it's the danger time of year. You thought that would be November? Fuck you, February came pre-programmed. I HATE February with the passion of a thousand vestal virgins confronting a ship full of recently released gladiators. Yes, THAT much.

Wait, I'm not even sure that makes any sense. I don't care, my head hurts.

Here's to rested adults and children and calming influences. Here's to a quiet few days with nothing but fire and snow. Here's to learning something new.

Here's to quitting my job, effective at noon today. I'm such a chicken. I waited until I knew Caleb would be gone for a lunch meeting and I put my letter of resignation on his desk. Along with that pretty brand-new Blackberry Bold.

It's okay, this is a good thing.

(Except for giving back that phone...I really liked the phone.)

Mother****ing GPS.

When push comes to shove, and shove isn't happy, she goes to her new hideout. An out of the way theater high above street level where they show subtitled foreign films twenty-four hours a day. It smells like spilled martinis and burned coffee but it's warm and the old Italian couple who run it are friendly and the seats are so comfortable you can fall asleep sitting up. Which is what I did. This morning. Because when you can't run then you must hide.

Next time you hide you might want to leave the Blackberry Bold at home so that your boss won't find you so easily and show up beside your seat. And then join you for the remainder of the film that you didn't care for in the first place or you wouldn't have fallen asleep, now, would you?

For the record, I was not watching Tokyo Gore Police. I did not get fired, either.

Why I never listen to the radio.

This is my life
Its not what it was before
All these feelings I've shared
And these are my dreams
That I'd never lived before
Somebody shake me
Cause I must be sleeping

Now that we're here,
It's so far away
All the struggle we thought was in vain
All the mistakes one life contained
They all finally start to go away

If you could understand how incredibly exposed I feel most of the time, wide-open to the thoughtless comments, unintended love songs and unpredictable memories that most people would not give a second thought to, you might see me differently.

In other words, look left. I got a whole playlist up, which will change as often as the weather. This should get about two hundred of you off my back. Finally. I only wish I was kidding.

Now, congratulations to all you American readers. It looks like you finally have the change you've waited so patiently for. Could you please stop hosing my internet now? Thank you. See you tomorrow.