Black gives way to agony. A mash up.

Bonham is home. He was neutered and he's had surgery on both eyes. All went well. He's very happy to be home. A week of drops, ten days of no running/jumping and all will be well again. He's doing fine.

I must run. Have to get gas, groceries, some assorted things at the hardware store and if I'm really lucky, lunch out and a pack of Pilot fountain pens. Because I didn't know they made disposable ones, I always steal Caleb's expensive ones and wait for him to ask me for their return.

Ben is really great.

Bye.

PS It's album day! Go now!

Dances to shades of grey.

Oh, hell, people, I'm not that drunk. Not by the long shot I wish I made.

In a nutshell, stop emailing me if it's something negative. I have negative. I bring the negative. I can find the dark in your sun and the pain in your ecstasy without hesitation, so if I want a drink at lunch that's none of anyone's business. Neither is it anyone's business if I have five in hopes of a blackout that will bring me to Jake so I can tell him the good news.

Gotcha. I had two. Because life is short and I was thirsty.

I am not in a position to have to choose with Sam, so if you were worried, don't be. Making nice with Caleb is not a requirement to be a part of my life. Just ask Bridget. She isn't very nice.

John will be fine, he says. Ben can make his own announcements, it isn't my place to spill any beans from his plate, full as it is. Or maybe that's empty now. I don't really care now that he has ripped his wings off and can stay awhile.

Because that is all I want.

Someone to stay awhile.

So I won't be alone. No one wants that. Especially for me. It isn't good.

So. cut. me. some. slack.

He's coming for you.

Fredddddddddyyyyyy.

Awesomes.

Am having a lovely day off with my big tattooed husband. He is aspoinlings me. Took me out for breakfast, lunch and bought me a beautiful long black swing coat and a amazing black suede bag from Nine West. With bondage hardware on it. He said that was the best part. I was all about needing a big bag to hold the various CDs and happy meal toys that wind up making their way to me almost daily.

Har.

Back tomorrow with sensical things. Or maybe not. :)

PS Tomorrow is the holy trinity, don't forget. Alice in Chains, Default and Breaking Benjamin all have album releases. Like Christmas, but without Santa.

PSS I'm not drunk, I swears.

Equinoctial points: when night and day are equal.

How can I be lost
In remembrance I relive
So how can I blame you
When it's me I can't forgive?

I woke up this morning, pulled on Ben's dress shirt and walked out onto the wrought iron balcony to watch the huge v-shaped formations of geese flying south over the Russian district in the cold blue skies. The early morning temperatures sent me quickly back inside, where I could see breakfast set up on the table already in the otherwise empty loft. I ignored it. I woke Ben up, passing him back his shirt while I started pulling my dress back on.

He got up and started to dress also, wordlessly. I found my watch and fastened it around one bruised wrist and he passed me, landing a kiss on the top of my head and taking a moment to hold me. Our eyes met when we pulled apart and we made one last survey of the room before turning to leave.

The car was waiting downstairs. Good. Drive of shame. Mike didn't say anything other than Good Morning. I didn't reply. Take me the fuck home so I can sleep. So I can wash Caleb's indelible fingerprints off us and spend a little more time talking about what sort of effects this spectacular new venture is going to have over time.

Goddamned precious time.

In a nutshell (thought it's incredibly complicated and I'm leaving things out) the boys have created an umbrella company that will allow them all to, for sake of argument, freelance at what they do best and they will share equally in revenue while still having independence in the far-flung corners of the different creative elements they represent. I will be looking after the administrative end of this new company and nothing more. So I no longer have to be involved in Caleb's other business entities, though with the connections he has there is no way this can fail.

There's been a lot of restructuring in the past few weeks. Including Ben who came home, had a few drinks and decided he was too old to be on the road anymore. He and Caleb spent a lot of time together because I didn't want Ben here, and they came up with this company, though I imagine Caleb already has the company well underway and has just been waiting to collect my boys to make colored flames in the fires of his hell. Like those little paper packets you can buy at the corner store. I always liked the blue flames best but somehow I associate the blue with Lochlan, if we're assigning colors to them.

Lochlan is on board easily. He's already been freelancing forever and he can't argue with stability for us/me. PJ is automatically on board for anything and everything if you end a sentence with "and it will be good for Bridget." Daniel and Schuyler are in. Chris, Dalton and Rob are go. August and Joel will be wealthy, wealthy individuals. Duncan, Andrew and Ben will have their creative hands in all kinds of projects. John switches careers entirely. He concerns me the most right now because he could easily wind up on the wicked side of this whole operation and so I will keep an eye on him. Well, they all concern me but dinner and beyond last night cleared up a whole heaping pile of my fears and I'm left wondering why they didn't all get together and do this ten years ago.

Sam has an open invitation he will not accept. His allegiance to Jacob's church and Bridget's ungainly faith is something Caleb's evil can't penetrate and that's fine with me. Sam and Caleb have done nothing but argue over me for days now. Sam is like I was yesterday but I couldn't persuade him to come out with us last night in order to clear the air. I will talk with him today after church.

This massive undertaking is good for everyone. Not only does it mean that with small exceptions here and there, everyone will be home all the time, but the boys who had to work harder for less will now be standardized so that they will continue to work hard but see a faster return for their efforts, an ability to enjoy the finer things now instead of waiting for later. Honestly, a few of them are already well off and they work for fun. Their needs are few. None of them have designs on expensive lifestyles anyway. This isn't a bid for material wealth. More a bid for security, emotional well-being and actual community within our collective, instead of timeshares. Instead of these horrifically crowded calendar pages in a dayplanner that goes around and around.

Instead of goodbyes.

No. more. goodbyes.

Caleb did this for me. He is the only one who could do something like this for me. Who would refuse guaranteed wealth in exchange for permanence? We're not twenty years old anymore. Life on the run gets hard after a fashion. That's why the boys didn't argue, though I'm not sure they understand fully what happens when they go to sleep at night and I am with the devil.

The catch, I mean.

There is always a catch with Caleb. He didn't get where he is by giving things away for free, as philanthropically-minded as he is publicly. Privately, there is always a price to be paid.

When so summoned, Bridget must wake up in hell. But oddly enough, she must bring Ben with her. That part almost made it okay. We know the rules of that game, we've played before. It gets easier. We're a team. We don't have to say goodbye all the time anymore.

That was worth my soul. That and the $2.99 for a packet of Mystical Fire to bring along.

Satan, reader of blogs.

First hat trick of the season, three posts in one day. I'm either drunk or my head is so full the words are pouring out my eyes at this point. Okay, both.

He had every intention of taking us out for dinner. You know, to celebrate the fact that he will be financing our lives in order to prove that he has my best interests at heart.

I should be grateful.

I'm just tired. This is almost everything I could ever ask for, short of bringing back the dead. Right result, wrong methods. Though, I should really just ask about the bringing back the dead thing. It seems like since God won't, maybe Satan will.

Like you wouldn't switch sides for that.

Scorned.

I think the most interesting part of today's revelations are that the angrier I got, the darker the skies became outside. A collective ambush would have been better served warm, with warning, instead of under bright lights and scrutiny inside of a difficult place in which there was so much background noise it took me a full hour to piece together what has happened to the brains my boys used to have.

Oh, that's right. Caleb had them stolen.

I'm really hoping I find the ransom note soon. I'm sure I have something of value I could use to get them back. In fact, I'm positive I do, which is why I really don't get why this happened or how to fix it or really if it's just a bad dream and instead of a handful of hours of sleep, perhaps I am still in my bed and none of it happened.

I haven't actually said anything out loud for close to two hours. They have stopped asking for reactions. The phone has stopped ringing. I failed to extend dinner invitations in my shock and I don't think anyone expects me to make dinner right now except for Ruth and Henry but they don't have a clue and that's fine with me so perhaps food will materialize and if six o'clock comes and food doesn't, I will make soup for the three of us and the rest of them can go to hell find something to eat. Elsewhere even.

I sat down to work through things but it's not coming because the pulse of adrenaline is making my fingers slow and unhelpful. I'm trying to not be dramatic. Or panicky. Or passive-agressive. Shocked. All in stride. Best scenario for everyone. Stupid justifications thrown out as balm on an itching rash. What the fuck.

Bridget, everyone will be here. All the time.

It sounded so amazing. Until I remembered who would be holding their souls. What the fuck, indeed, boys. This isn't a good idea and you know it. After everything we have gone through, you're still collectively underestimating Satan's power.

And I don't know why.

I already sacrificed myself to him. I do what he asks. I'm going back to work for him. So if you're doing it to protect me, you're decades too late.

In my head I can hear Cole laughing.

It's raining now. Maybe I can toss in some thunder and lightning. If I had that kind of power right now I think I'd zap that smug fucking smile right off his face. Then I would burn him to the ground. Alive. And I'd stand there and laugh while he screamed.

What the fuck, Ben. Lochlan. All of you. Equal partners? There's nothing equal here at all, I don't care what it looks like on paper. You guys have made a huge mistake going into business with Satan.

It's really too bad that you can't figure it out. Maybe he needs to kill me instead of EVERYONE I LOVE and then you might all get a clue. He's told me it can be arranged, but then his fun will stop, and we all know how special Caleb's brand of fun is.

This is delusional. I must be asleep.

Sleeping in the car.

Hold me closer let me be
Hold me closer let me go away
Barely know you know my name
Trip the witch and ride the shame

Good morning.

It's very early and we're going to some sort of function that sees me attempting to put perfect lip gloss on at seven in the morning. I'm not sure I enjoy these very dressed-up events that require me to be alert when my body hasn't had time to acknowledge the coffee I sacrificed to it yet and sleep was in short supply thanks to a combination of a late night outside talking, the dog being awake half the night, the city on a Friday night in full glorious stupidity and Dalton and Emery showing up and bringing this event to us on a day when the larger plan was to..well, rest today.

Instead, God no, I get to sit here in this dress that highlights the fact that I've been sick (it is very black and I am so very pale) and it's a teensy bit snug (shut up) and the shoes just HURT (but they look HOT) and I didn't paint my nails and my ringlets are falling out and Lochlan is staring at me with that Oh, fresh-baked princess kind of appreciation and Ben is calm and happy and handsome this morning and the kids get to go play all morning with their friends and I mentioned Dalton was here which is huge because he was supposed to be gone for so long and sometimes the calendar just straight out tells bald-faced lies and that's okay with me.

God, I hope they have more coffee there. I can't even think.

And Emery. Christ, I haven't even introduced him to you yet.

Later.

Going now. Have seven whole minutes to sleep in the crook of Ben's elbow in the car, and I'm going to take it. Somehow Mike is delivering us there? No idea. Like I said, coffee isn't activating Bridget and Bridget is not going to be so sparkling today. Have to go on looks, I guess.

Unglued in a really good way.

All is not lost. I just scored the best block of seats in the house for Stone Temple Pilots.

Come home to mama, boys.

Addictive.

What a long week. I'm capping it off with the cold from hell, as that's where they are born. I lost my voice a few times already, a squeaky Kirstie Alley kind of twist to my words that everyone finds so amusing. Once my head was upright and there was coffee poured in it, I feel a little more capable. Have already cleaned up a bunch of things and am ticking through the inevitable list on the counter because I don't remember things anymore. I'm going to be the old man in that mental illness commercial in a few years, the one who buys lemons every day and there are lemons on the shelves and in shoes and pockets, too.

Oh hell yes, that will be me.

Ben fixed my iPhone. It is lovely. Just one or two little issues remain keeping me from loving it. Namely the low volume, lack of ringtone assignments for text messaging and horrific reconciliation with my email on the PC. But it works and that's the main, awesome part. I am leaning toward keeping the Berries going until July though when my contract rolls forward, so we have a backup iPhone in case he or one of the children drop HIS phone. Because shit happens and those phones are not indestructible.

Of course I can break things with my mind, so perhaps these are issues mere mortals never have to experience.

I told you I was special. You didn't believe me. Ha.

This is the last hot day of the summer. I plan to get some groceries and then some vodka and sit out on my Victorian stone patio and relish the last rays of the sun all afternoon with my love. I haven't seen him. There is no time that we have, only that which we borrow, and then we have to return it or pay fines we can't afford. No vacation loans, no renewals, because this is a bestseller.

It could be a keeper, but no one will allow it. I learn so slowly to do for me, it's an impossible task sometimes, like climbing a mountain without shoes on, like flying without visible wings.

How could you?

I feel perpetually left behind. Like everyone took their life instruction books and ran off and I can't find a book, no one included me when they were given out, there wasn't one with my name on it and I don't know what to do. I have no answers, just the try. Always the try. I've gotten good at failing first, almost to the point where I have gotten reckless and I do the opposite of what I plan to do because hell, it can't be any riskier.

Nope.

No riskier.

Riskier doesn't look like a word.

Who cares.

Loneliness is an incredible, completely mental condition. Lobotomy for one please, because it's all in my head. So the next time you grab your handbook and take off for life or escape into life or hide out from life, for Gods sake, take me with you.

Please.

I wish I could see inside his head. Sometimes I wish they could see inside mine. Open books but muddled storylines. Tales crafted with words pretty enough to obscure the truth and hide the ugly realities from our gentle eyes.

Time doesn't stop for us.