I'll beg for you.

I have all my Stone Temple Pilots CDs packed and ready to roll. Lessons well studied from Jacob in the firm refusal to give up the music I love because it hurts, instead I embrace it because it belongs to me and not my ghosts. That lesson took a few tries but now I have it down pat.

I'm filling my veins with coffee and my bag with warm clothes, because tonight we're heading to the farm for the weekend. Just the four of us, and since Nolan is now Ben's sponsor, he'll be somewhere safe.

Still Remains drifts through my head this morning, a song I know as well as the number of heartbeats each child puts out in the space of a minute when they sleep because I've never heard them breathing when they rest. A song I have inked into my soul via my skin, stretched so thin sometimes but still armor against the past.

There's excitement in changing routines for the weekend, exchanging the usual weekend for horse rides and barn work and food that always, always tastes better. Bundled up in Nolan's quilts, we'll sit in the rocking chairs on the porch and drink coffee, and inside we always find a roaring fire and hot chocolate late at night. Sleeping where the stars are closer works wonders. Being together works wonders too.

Pick a song and sing a yellow nectarine
Take a bath, I'll drink the water that you leave
If you should die before me
Ask if you can bring a friend
Pick a flower, hold your breath and drift away

See you on Monday. (In which I whine about feeling like my glasses make me look old. Perhaps it's that I can see myself in the mirror now in full HD rez and hole-lee, does something ever have to be done about what stares back.)

Made with pectin for the vegetarian candy lords.

I have a friend with me this afternoon, here in the dark of a rainy Thursday afternoon, barricaded at the end of the hall in the upstairs window seat, under a quilt my grandmother made long before I was born.

It's a gummy bear.

Blue, so I'm guessing he tastes like blueberry or just gross, as Ruth calls the blue flavor. He's looking out the window as the rain pours down in sheets outside, watching the garden maybe, or maybe he's staring straight ahead, hoping to see through the clouds with his magnificent, miniature x-ray gummyvision™, in order to calculate when the rain will stop and the sun will resume the sad and broken march toward summer.

I watch the rain, too, with my little friend. A break this afternoon enables me to indulge in some of that Bridget-time that is sometimes overwhelmingly plentiful and sometimes completely absent. I've brought my laptop and one cat up here because some comments have been made that I don't use this area for my writing, even though it's as close as I will ever get to the glass turret that once topped this castle. It's okay. I found that curling up in a couch or in the kitchen window seat was just fine, that it wasn't so much the place where I wrote, but the feelings when I wrote, and that as long as I have a little time and a little comfort I can survive quite nicely without an office to call my own.

(Please don't bring up the den right now. I only go in there to clean.)

And besides, if I find any more gummy bears I can stay here even longer since I won't get hungry. And that's always nice.

Perfect Imperfect.

Give us a room and close the door
Leave us for a while.
Your boy won't be a boy no more
Young, but not a child.
I'm the Gypsy - the acid queen.
Pay before we start.
I'm the Gypsy the acid queen.
I'll tear your soul apart.

When is the last time you had your eyes tested?

1998.

How do you know?

I was newly pregnant and I wanted to get the exam/glasses out of the way while I could still waddle into Vogue Optical on Barrington street in Halifax on my lunch hour. Buy one get one free. Ruth broke the first pair in early 2000. Henry broke the second pair late in 2001. I kind of got caught up with life (Jake) and pretty much decided I was fine. I'm always fine. Aren't I fine?

So...everyone wears glasses but me. Because I'm fine.

Kind of like the hearing thing...

Moms come last by choice, mostly.

I went today because I had to put my money where my mouth is (eyes are?). And what do you know? I'm not fine. I have a football-shaped cornea and basically a severe astigmatism and will be wearing glasses except when I'm sleeping from now on. Because yes, fine. When I covered my right eye my left eye was underwater and oh! geez. First the ears and now this.

Ben keeps calling me the Pinball Wizard. I'm seriously going to punch his lights out. Since I see two of him, there's a fifty-fifty chance I'll connect.

Pfft. At least one part of me still works.

PJ, please tell me which one this is. When you get a minute.

Hmmm.

I've forgotten which movie it was. Maybe there's more than one. Might be From Dusk til Dawn or one of the Kill Bills but there's a scene in a movie where the hero and the heroine go through hell and back and wind up gravely wounded and bloodied, unrecognizable for what they've been through. At the end when they emerge victorious from the final battle they drag themselves together and laugh. They just laugh. Everything will be okay. Roll credits.

THAT'S MY WHOLE LIFE NOW.

The sequel better be damned awesome. And directed by Michael Bay. I like lots of slow motion explosions. And sex.

Not slow-motion sex though. That makes me laugh a little too much.

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.