If you can't guess what number one is then you haven't been reading long enough.

It's been a good day. I got a lot accomplished, I had some good news, and I feel good, generally. Everyone is good here. The sun is out, there's cake (more on that later) and the chores are done for the night. The house is almost clean. It's almost bedtime for the children. I figured out the twitter thingie and can congratulate myself, I'm only roughly a year behind, trend-wise.

But mostly there is cake, and that's Bridget's second favorite thing in the whole wide world, so all's well that ends well.

I know, so vague, Bridget. You whore.

That's Cake Whore to you. Om nom nom.

Way down in front.

Please don't be ashamed whether you win or lose.
I just want you to know that I'm proud of you.
Don't be afraid when your fight is through.
I just need you to know that I'm here with you.

An attempt for some routine brought us back to our favorite coffeehouse early this afternoon, an unheated little affair with big spotless windows looking out onto the endless traffic outside, sidewalk freshly scrubbed, bicycles locked in a stand right outside the door and Ben's truck close to the curb, meter paid for two hours of grounds and people-watching and skipping over subjects we needed to be discussing but weren't, because the comfort of those latticed chairs and warm mugs kept full, discarded plates of apple pie and chocolate cake between us, meant that maybe every waking moment doesn't have to be progress or effort.

Ben tapped his fingers along with Interpol over the sound system and I watched him watch people. I watched his eyes linger on a girl rummaging through her messenger bag for her softly ringing phone. Watched him absently try to twirl a ring around his finger that is lately snug. Watched him check his phone, ignoring call after call in favor of watching me without watching me at all.

I had decided I hate Interpol and I wish they would play something else but at the same time where else can you sit for hours without being rushed out or drowned out? Where else can you sit in public in broad daylight and yet still persist in a bubble, ignored by everyone who passes by? Where else do you work out your shit but a place that you've had a standing date for years?

It's been months since we've had one of our coffee dates. Months since he's reached across the scarred and battered table to take my hand and tell me I'm beautiful. Months since we've have a coffee-breath kiss and a cake aftertaste chasing it down our throats with the gritty air of this winterwashed city, blind to the agony with which we've taken every step thus far.

Ben laughs and rubs his face. A haircut and a straight-razor shave this morning at the barber shop where all the old men in the neighborhood go makes him feel familiar, organized, together. I smile at the curl in the front that defies whatever he does to it, every single day. Ben has stick-straight hair, save for this one little piece that flips the wrong way.

You hate the music, don't you?

I don't come here for the music, Benjamin.

Oh, yeah? Why do you come here then?

They make great coffee.

That's it?

The cake is really good too.

And?

The people are varied. I like watching them.

Any other reason?

It reminds me of easier times.

Speaking of which, I need to ask you for a favor.

You don't have to ask, Benjamin.

This, I do.

What is it?

I've watched you stand behind people your whole life, princess. But right now I would really appreciate it if you would stand in front of me. Just for a little while. Could you? Could you do that for me?

There were no words for that. Just the habitual, inevitable flood.

You've watered down your coffee. Maybe we should go.

I nodded. And I left the coffee shop first, hand stretched behind my back, fingers laced with his. I don't think I have half as much courage as your everyday normal human being, but I could probably give this a shot.

It's snowing! (AKA Hell has frozen over)

In lieu of beating a dead horse, Lochlan is gone again. I'm not even going to ask how, since I know why.

Snap back to reality,
Oh, there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit,
he choked, he's so mad,
but he won't give up that easy, no

I bet it wasn't pretty but I wouldn't know. I wasn't there. I woke up at Schuyler and Daniel's house this morning, the only two boys in the universe who start their weekend with eggs benedict and espresso and plentiful hugs.

I'd like to stay here, if it's okay with everyone.

I know, wishful thinking, hey? Ben is coming for breakfast after his meeting and then we'll go collect the kids from their sleepovers and enjoy some sorely-needed privacy.

I'm done giving Lochlan space, in my life and on my journal, just so you know. You don't have to read about him anymore. Brighter days ahead.

I still can't believe it's snowing.

It's snowing! (AKA Hell has frozen over)

In lieu of beating a dead horse, Lochlan is gone again. I'm not even going to ask how, since I know why.

Snap back to reality,
Oh, there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit,
he choked, he's so mad,
but he won't give up that easy, no

I bet it wasn't pretty but I wouldn't know. I wasn't there. I woke up at Schuyler and Daniel's house this morning, the only two boys in the universe who start their weekend with eggs benedict and espresso and plentiful hugs.

I'd like to stay here, if it's okay with everyone.

I know, wishful thinking, hey? Ben is coming for breakfast after his meeting and then we'll go collect the kids from their sleepovers and enjoy some sorely-needed privacy.

I'm done giving Lochlan space, in my life and on my journal, just so you know. You don't have to read about him anymore. Brighter days ahead.

I still can't believe it's snowing.

TGIF because the week was so very long.

Routine rituals
Physically and mentally, pressures made complete.
Remember to appreciate the bittersweet.
Finding symmetry too hard to achieve
Expectations test abilities,
Life is but a dream.
In our sleep, let us see.

Lochlan is the boomerang boy today. Home yesterday morning and back late last night because he just...I have no idea, he couldn't fathom being away? Didn't think we were ready to be on our own without his all-knowing presence nearby to deflect emergencies and soothe fears?

Because maybe he is obsessed with the past, like most of the people I know?

Yeah, most likely a little bit of all three.

I haven't asked him yet. He walked into the house last night, picked a fight with the wrong person and bought himself a punch to the head that sent us to the ER, and in the early afternoon that followed, Lochlan signed himself out against doctor's advice and took me out for lunch.

Maybe it's just his turn to self-destruct. He's possibly the only one who hasn't yet.

In better news, Ben bought a video camera. Oh, internet, things are going to get interesting now.

Not like that. Perverts.

TGIF because the week was so very long.

Routine rituals
Physically and mentally, pressures made complete.
Remember to appreciate the bittersweet.
Finding symmetry too hard to achieve
Expectations test abilities,
Life is but a dream.
In our sleep, let us see.

Lochlan is the boomerang boy today. Home yesterday morning and back late last night because he just...I have no idea, he couldn't fathom being away? Didn't think we were ready to be on our own without his all-knowing presence nearby to deflect emergencies and soothe fears?

Because maybe he is obsessed with the past, like most of the people I know?

Yeah, most likely a little bit of all three.

I haven't asked him yet. He walked into the house last night, picked a fight with the wrong person and bought himself a punch to the head that sent us to the ER, and in the early afternoon that followed, Lochlan signed himself out against doctor's advice and took me out for lunch.

Maybe it's just his turn to self-destruct. He's possibly the only one who hasn't yet.

In better news, Ben bought a video camera. Oh, internet, things are going to get interesting now.

Not like that. Perverts.

Garage band.

John is here today. The longer his hair gets the more he looks like Zakk Wilde. We're making coffee and fried green tomato sandwiches and he and Ben have huge, huge plans to tinker with their motorcycles this afternoon. John's bike being the one I sold to him after Jacob died because I couldn't look at it anymore and surprise, I've had two rides on it already this week. And none on Ben's because he just doesn't feel like he's ready to ride quite yet, which is fine too. Ben keeps saying it's too cold and he's right but it's hard to resist the lure of two wheels after so many months of snow tires and so they brought his bike back when the others took their bikes out of storage (at Nolan's) shortly before Ben came home. I think he was grateful for that. It's hard to tell. He keeps lapsing into very quiet hours and then he'll just start talking and he doesn't stop for a long time and just when you're ready to tell him to stuff it, he gets quiet again.

I don't mind. I'm still just happy he's home and things are steadily getting better, inch by mile. He told Lochlan it was time to go last night and this morning before I could swim through that second cup of coffee, Lochlan was gone. There were no harsh words or upended tables or hammer punches thrown, just another example of a quiet acceptance of our weird communal life and how well it seems to work when everyone remembers their place, when everyone helps everyone else, when everyone has the presence of mind to put their own wants aside for the good of someone they love.

I just don't think I have ever seen us all do it at the same time before.

Maybe things are changing.

Tea is ready. Must go take a tray out to the garage and get a lesson in replacing fork oil.

Garage band.

John is here today. The longer his hair gets the more he looks like Zakk Wilde. We're making coffee and fried green tomato sandwiches and he and Ben have huge, huge plans to tinker with their motorcycles this afternoon. John's bike being the one I sold to him after Jacob died because I couldn't look at it anymore and surprise, I've had two rides on it already this week. And none on Ben's because he just doesn't feel like he's ready to ride quite yet, which is fine too. Ben keeps saying it's too cold and he's right but it's hard to resist the lure of two wheels after so many months of snow tires and so they brought his bike back when the others took their bikes out of storage (at Nolan's) shortly before Ben came home. I think he was grateful for that. It's hard to tell. He keeps lapsing into very quiet hours and then he'll just start talking and he doesn't stop for a long time and just when you're ready to tell him to stuff it, he gets quiet again.

I don't mind. I'm still just happy he's home and things are steadily getting better, inch by mile. He told Lochlan it was time to go last night and this morning before I could swim through that second cup of coffee, Lochlan was gone. There were no harsh words or upended tables or hammer punches thrown, just another example of a quiet acceptance of our weird communal life and how well it seems to work when everyone remembers their place, when everyone helps everyone else, when everyone has the presence of mind to put their own wants aside for the good of someone they love.

I just don't think I have ever seen us all do it at the same time before.

Maybe things are changing.

Tea is ready. Must go take a tray out to the garage and get a lesson in replacing fork oil.

Two, count 'em. Two dimensions!

Heave the silver hollow sliver
Piercing through another victim
Turn and tremble be judgmental
Ignorant to all the symbols
Blind the face with beauty paste
Eventually you'll one day know

Change my attempt
good intentions
Limbs tied, skin tight
Self inflicted his perdition

Should I, could I
Change my attempt
good intentions
Should I, could I

This morning I put on my running clothes and then decided to rake the yard since it's sunny and somewhat dry and it's supposed to rain off and on for the next two weeks. I raked the boulevard and the front yard and pulled the leaves out of the front gardens and the hedge too and down between the houses on each side, then I came around and raked all the leaves in the backyard too, getting under the porch, barbecue and treehouse even.

3 bags total.

I tilled up my garden and tried and failed to rake the leaves out of the woodchips around the rose and lilac bushes so I just took all of it away down to a good layer and I'll replace it anyway in a few more weeks, roundabout Victoria's birthday which is Official Garden-Planting Week here because from then on the weather is virtually guaranteed.

I'm excited. This year I'm doing new things based on all the knowledge gleaned from previous years living here. Like knowing grass doesn't grow on clay soil but wildflowers do, and it takes five giant bags of earth to make the gardens lush and accomodating. And that planting one single Oregano sprig gives me a year's worth of heavy spice use. And lettuce is pointless and takes up too much room. Oh and shade plants don't like me. At all.

And compost! I have a bin from last summer and ew yuck, I'm guessing I'll have awesome dirt this year.

I guess there's therapy in sliding my hands into worn cotton gloves and digging in the muck. Effort from my arms and back muscles results in a weird sort of pride in having one of the nicest homes on a worn-by-time block that just needs a little more muscle and a little more effort and it could be just amazing but the people who live in my neighborhood have jobs and bills and lives and so they do what is needed and not a lot more and no one can fault them for that. If I didn't love that satisfaction I get from hardcore lawn work I doubt I would do it, but it's kind of like running. Once you're done you feel better.

Mmm...dirt endorphins.

I think I've lost it.

This isn't to say I'm going to let plant reports take over my journal, I just thought I would once again attempt to be less one-dimensional. It's as hard in life as it is here sometimes but sometimes we all need a break from it too. Yes, even me. So I'll ignore the fight with Lochlan and the almost-fight with Ben and PJ's horrible singing (you couldn't keep up with Jesse if you TRIED, baby) and the hungry rumblings within since this girl hasn't had breakfast or finished a whole cup of coffee yet even but I'm calm and I'm okay and I'm really freaking happy with the grass.

So there.

Two, count 'em. Two dimensions!

Heave the silver hollow sliver
Piercing through another victim
Turn and tremble be judgmental
Ignorant to all the symbols
Blind the face with beauty paste
Eventually you'll one day know

Change my attempt
good intentions
Limbs tied, skin tight
Self inflicted his perdition

Should I, could I
Change my attempt
good intentions
Should I, could I

This morning I put on my running clothes and then decided to rake the yard since it's sunny and somewhat dry and it's supposed to rain off and on for the next two weeks. I raked the boulevard and the front yard and pulled the leaves out of the front gardens and the hedge too and down between the houses on each side, then I came around and raked all the leaves in the backyard too, getting under the porch, barbecue and treehouse even.

3 bags total.

I tilled up my garden and tried and failed to rake the leaves out of the woodchips around the rose and lilac bushes so I just took all of it away down to a good layer and I'll replace it anyway in a few more weeks, roundabout Victoria's birthday which is Official Garden-Planting Week here because from then on the weather is virtually guaranteed.

I'm excited. This year I'm doing new things based on all the knowledge gleaned from previous years living here. Like knowing grass doesn't grow on clay soil but wildflowers do, and it takes five giant bags of earth to make the gardens lush and accomodating. And that planting one single Oregano sprig gives me a year's worth of heavy spice use. And lettuce is pointless and takes up too much room. Oh and shade plants don't like me. At all.

And compost! I have a bin from last summer and ew yuck, I'm guessing I'll have awesome dirt this year.

I guess there's therapy in sliding my hands into worn cotton gloves and digging in the muck. Effort from my arms and back muscles results in a weird sort of pride in having one of the nicest homes on a worn-by-time block that just needs a little more muscle and a little more effort and it could be just amazing but the people who live in my neighborhood have jobs and bills and lives and so they do what is needed and not a lot more and no one can fault them for that. If I didn't love that satisfaction I get from hardcore lawn work I doubt I would do it, but it's kind of like running. Once you're done you feel better.

Mmm...dirt endorphins.

I think I've lost it.

This isn't to say I'm going to let plant reports take over my journal, I just thought I would once again attempt to be less one-dimensional. It's as hard in life as it is here sometimes but sometimes we all need a break from it too. Yes, even me. So I'll ignore the fight with Lochlan and the almost-fight with Ben and PJ's horrible singing (you couldn't keep up with Jesse if you TRIED, baby) and the hungry rumblings within since this girl hasn't had breakfast or finished a whole cup of coffee yet even but I'm calm and I'm okay and I'm really freaking happy with the grass.

So there.