Saturday, 10 October 2009

Hello darlin', nice to see you.

It's been a long time.
I thought today had gone to hell.

Henry woke up throwing up (almost a typical Thanksgiving response the past four years running) and the dog seems determined to be difficult. Delayed flights are being watched closely and everyone is praying for the snow to melt, so we can go back to the blustery fall we had only just begun to enjoy. The leaves are still on the trees, I should not be digging pumpkins out of the drifts on the back steps.

Then Ben did an impression of Conway Twitty, complete with awkward steady gaze and strangely-small mouth™.

I laughed so hard I had to beg him to stop singing. I hurt all over.

Best thing ever, or so I thought...

Because you should have seen Conway covering Duran Duran. Instant classic, I tell you.

Friday, 9 October 2009

Hallo from the front lines.

Tearing it back, unveiling me.
Taking a step back so I can breathe.
Hear the silence about to break.
Fear resistance when I'm awake.
I'm sure last night it was a collective agreement. Put the tranquilizer in her food, toss a pillow under her head and lights out, pigalet.

I slept from ten until six. Without waking up. Those nights are gold to me. Caleb pulled big brother and we took the kids over last night for an early thanksgiving movie party and sleepover. Maybe there is something in the air at his loft. In any case, both Ben and I slept, and getting up at six to pull on clothes and go home to get ready for the day proper wasn't nearly as painful as it usually is. And we had fun. We watched Gremlins. Seriously. Gizmo reminds me of Bonham.

And now I'm home from yet another grocery run and have plans to spoil myself for the rest of the day. It probably won't happen, but I've got the turkey, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, carrots, rolls, broccoli, fresh strawberries and apples and I'm ready to enjoy the long weekend the way it was meant to be enjoyed.

In the kitchen, doing dishes.

For those I love.

Happy Thanksgiving.

And look. I'm not planning on murdering Ben. Yesterday was overwhelming and I cracked a little and then it got better. He acknowledges the time I spend in the concrete room inside my head and I will tell you more about it as we go along here. Also be warned, the next two weeks will be sporadic. We have company and then we're taking a little trip so if you don't see all that much activity between now and the 22nd, don't panic.

I will try not to, as well. This is good stuff. Be happy for us. Things are going as well as they ever do, barring ghosts, illness and electromagnetic impulses.

Yes, I managed to fry both the Xbox 360 and my car keys (again). What the fuck. Hide your macbooks and iPhones, my big apple dumplings.

Thursday, 8 October 2009

I am not afraid.

I've decided I'm going to take Ben to visit Jake and Cole when I go back. Don't even ask me how I'm going to do this, it's not your concern. Just like Caleb's bid for immortality and the fact the boys have built a truly magnificent life for me here in which reality doesn't even have a speaking role isn't either.

Just know that there are some things you just need to take on faith. Not these things. Other things. Nevermind, please.

Wednesday, 7 October 2009

Houseguests when you have a double ear infection.

In my defense, I already did three loads of laundry and cleaned up after all of the slobs currently occupying every last space, hard or soft, left in the house and I've even thrown together a whole collection of freshly prepped things to eat, fruits, veggies, hard boiled eggs, cold meats, etc. No one's going to die of hunger on my watch, Duncan.

And now I'm going to demonstrate the true princess nature within by spending the bulk of the afternoon lying on the kitchen floor listening to Apocalyptica on full blast and yelling for my minions to bring me orange juice. Note: The stereo speakers are on the fridge. If I reach out with my left foot I can whack the fridge door.

I just don't want to drink out of the carton, even though that's not a deterrent for all of you.

Chop chop, people. Bring cake. Bring Thai. Bring Vicodin. Princess down.

Tuesday, 6 October 2009

Battened hatches.

It's an odd day. This morning there were not one but two days in the coming week's forecast that had snowflakes and flurries included. Enough for me to pick the cold, cloudy day to go out and rake up the leaves and mulch in all of the beautiful perennials Ben talked me into last spring when I pointed out I just didn't feel much like doing a huge vegetable garden again. Lucky thing that, because it was the coldest summer in a long time. I put away the patio umbrella and the watering cans and upended the wheelbarrow. I traded my gardening implements for the snow shovels and contemplated emptying the rain barrel. The hose is away and the patio lights too, and it already looks barren and abandoned in my once lush and overgrown Victorian patio. Ben already put the storm windows up on the weekend. We're ready.

It put me in the mood and so I continued inside the house, putting fresh candles in the candlesticks and the candelabra. I went to the store to get some things, and bought a door decoration that says simply "Happy Halloween". I came home and hung it up straight away, that and the gruesome skeletons from last year, the ones tied with jute, each one with a tiny, painstakingly-tied noose. It's quite disturbing, actually. I put out the small collection of skeleton snowglobes and we already have the pumpkins outside so aside from picking up some candy I do believe I am ready for Halloween.

You'll be pleased to know the store had some other door signs as well, including one that read "Insane Asylum". I didn't buy that one.

I probably should have.

Monday, 5 October 2009

The shepherdess of the damned, apparently.

What colors would you like, Jacob?

Whatever you think will be best, princess.

Hmm. I think dark brown, navy blue and cream will look good on you.

Okay, good. For a few seconds there I was afraid you were going to deck me out in purples.

This morning I dug way down to the bottom of the knitting basket I have not touched in two years and found the sweater I had started making for Jacob. I took the entire thing, hours of work and threw it into the pile to be taken to the garbage, needles and all.

Ben watched me thoughtfully.

Zero was going to get a sweater for Christmas?

Could you not call him that, please?

Sorry.

But are you?

No, Bridget, I'm still pissed at him. That's not going to change.

How can you hold a grudge against someone who is dead?

I don't know, Bridge. You tell me.

It's weird that you do it on my behalf. That's all. You know what's so dumb? I may not be the most domestically inclined person in the world but I try so hard, Ben. I wanted him to be warm.

So finish it.

What?

Finish knitting the sweater and we'll take it out to the bench. Jake will see it and then maybe someone will pick it up and be able to use it.

That's generous for someone still hung up on calling him Zero the Hero.

Yeah, well, I have my moments.

I don't think I'm going to finish it.

Okay. It's your call.

Good, then can I do something else with it?

Sure, whatever you want.

I want to give it to Jake's mom. She can finish it for his father.

He smiled and left the room. I kept up with my chore of reorganizing the sewing corner, sweeping out the corner, jamming the brace back into the leg of the chair I used to use for spinning. It always pops out when anyone heavier than Ruth sits on it. Before I really got anywhere, Ben reappeared in the doorway.

We're flying out to Newfoundland the morning of the nineteenth. Back on the twenty-second.

We?

The four of us.

Serious?

Yes?

Oh, wow.

Wow what?

I thought I would have to go alone.

You don't have to do anything alone, Bridget. That's what I'm here for.

He went out again and I was left sitting on the floor surrounded by spools of thread and possibly, maybe, just a few lucky stars.
God help me I've come undone
Out of the light of the sun

I can feel you falling away
No longer the lost
No longer the same
And I can see you starting to break
I'll keep you alive
If you show me the way

Sunday, 4 October 2009

Try this one on for size, boys.

This year Halloween is easy.

If you remember, every year Caleb throws a significant costume party. And every year we go all out on dressing up and coming up with good costumes, sometimes as a group and sometimes as sets or duets. This is one of those wonderful years where everyone is involved in one specific theme, and this marks the first year that Ruth and Henry can participate.

Because they picked the theme.

The children decided back in early August, upon release of the movie, that they would be going as Storm Shadow (Ruth) and Snake Eyes (Henry) from G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra.

It was a natural progression after that.

I'm going to be the Baroness. Benjamin is going as Duke. Caleb will be the Baron (stop laughing). PJ is General Hawk, and Christian is Heavy Duty. Sam is Destro. Lochlan is going to be Dr. Mindbender and oddly enough it seemed far too easy to convince Schuyler to be Scarlett. The rest are rounding out the team as Zartan, Ripcord and all the other characters I have forgotten the names of already but find equally awesome.

It's going to be a blast.

The party is the Friday night before Halloween, and since the children won't be attending, we'll have a costumed sit-down dinner party at the house with everyone coming here first for food, and then we can travel downtown as a group to Caleb's loft after I take them to PJ's mom's for the night. The kids are incredibly excited.

Not sure if I am yet, the idea of spending ten or twelve hours in a full latex body suit that is that curve-hugging kind of has me wishing I had picked Hard Master, or someone in a far more comfortable looking outfit. When I expressed my doubt to the boys, however, they assured me that my suit will look amazing.

I bet.

I don't think they share my concern. Do you?

Friday, 2 October 2009

Hello goodbye Ducati. I'm not sure I'll miss you.

And I always paid attention to all the lines you crossed
Forgive this imperfection it shows and know
I am the child that lives and cries in a corner
Dies in a corner, alone inside your mind
Based on recent weather patterns, we've decided to take the sunny day today and use it to get the bikes down to Nolan's and winterized for the year. Which means I get to spend three hours alone in Ben's truck, following the boys while they take their final ride of the season. And I get to be warm and drink coffee and listen to loud music.

When they're finished we'll take Nolan out to the little diner for lunch in the town nearest to his farm and we'll have soup and club sandwiches and a little more coffee and then we'll plan to be home before dinner to collect the kids from after-school time with Sam and maybe we'll go see a movie.

Or maybe we'll just hang out in front of the fire and thaw the boys out. It's going to be a very cold trip. Tinged with relief that Ben is putting the new beast to bed for the winter. First bike I ever met that I am afraid of. Every time he rolls on the throttle I hold my breath and pray.

He says there is nothing to worry about. But he says that about everything.

Thursday, 1 October 2009

9 pm and Bridget is on the run.

We're crazy. Yes.

PJ and I are trying our hands (or maybe that's our feet) at night running. We're heading out with one tiny keychain canister of bear spray left over from a camping trip in 1994 and the blessings of absolutely nobody in the house, but because it's cold and rainy and dark, no one wants to go with us. We're going to head over to the benches and then turn and come back. As it stands today, I am thirty-seven days out from the second anniversary of Jacob's death.

And I can't do this. I see it coming a mile away like a freight train. And I can't move off the tracks.

Macbook Amateur.

Damn Benjamin and his weirdly compelling overpriced laptop. I can't type on this thing. I don't think I can live with the doorbell noises and the fact that everything is on the left as opposed to the oh, doorbell again. How distracting. Otherwise it's like the iPhone. Overly easy without much effort at all. But I think I'll keep the Acer. Like I tell him every day he tries to get me to learn this thing, if I manage to kill my laptop with my electromagnetic princess pulses, I've only flushed four hundred bucks down the drain.

So there. Princess out.

I gave it a whirl. Now give me my machine with it's blink and you miss it battery life. Yes fine, there are perks. I am just not quite there yet. :)