Disengaging.

Today toward moving we took the final load out to the landfill, mostly pieces of wood from building the fence and the old barbecue that isn't worth taking or giving away and the contents of the rafters in my garage. Most of the guys were free to load the truck and everyone just wanted to get the outside work finished before the snowfall that I see in the forecast. I helped bring armloads of wood and verified that yes, that's it for things that need to be taken away. I made sure they had cash for gas and load fees and then they were off to do man things, surely stopping at the hardware store on the way back because we need plasterboard. There's still the back porch to finish, it was stripped right down to the studs and now it's freshly wired and insulated and ready for actual walls again.

Other than that we've been laying low, sleeping in, eating out, holding each other, making sure everyone is okay with changes coming up. With the plans falling into place slowly but surely. With making sure the children are informed and okay with what happens next. It's not an easy undertaking, after all. We're a very large family.

Ben has been surprising me often, which is nice because he seemed to be pulling away again., like he always seems to do before tour, before anything that takes him away. Withdrawing even to the point where by yesterday afternoon I was jumping around him waving my arms like a stranded hiker in the woods who finally spots a helicopter. He noticed and I was rescued from the certain boredom and stinging dismissal with a trip around town, out for dinner and then a final round of Christmas shopping. Then home and everyone scatters to their favorite haunts in the house to unwind. It's like a tiny little poignant vacation at home before all hell breaks loose and I'm grateful for it.

I don't sleep though, not enough and so I'm pretty much worn out and overwhelmed by everything that's going to happen sooner rather than later. I lie awake in the dark and tears just roll and sometimes he notices those and sometimes he is already asleep. I can't help it. That's when the fear takes over. It's hard to force myself to think about good things or other things but eventually exhaustion takes over, at least for a few hours and then it all begins again.

This is the hard part. The same thing happened last time. We knew everyone was coming out too, but there were months in between, in transit where we were all in different places and things were tough and we all felt disconnected and the boys were quieter than usual while they dealt with missing me and each other and the children too. I don't like the quiet times, I'll take the fist-swinging and the big pounding hugs and the rock-bottom pleas and boisterous laughter any day over this uneasy peaceful quiet.

Oh yes I would.

Strange circles and narcoleptic records.

I had my annual check-in call from Batman this morning. Interesting. He usually calls on New Year's Day but he wasn't sure he wanted to interrupt the final days of my sanity and security. I didn't really think he read here but I always mind my words anyway. In that I don't care if certain people read, I'm going to say what I came to say and only what I came to say.

We had movie night last night. Went and saw 2012 and The Hangover.

Here's some reviews:

2012: I am not a John Cusack fan. His face is virtually expressionless. I feel nothing because he looks like he feels nothing. Dead eyes. Add to that cheating death a hundred and fifty times and I was left thinking the director's mission was to out-big Independence Day. Fail. One should not be bored by a movie.

The Hangover: Hilarious. All of it. Even the weird parts. I spent the whole movie wondering why I knew Bradley Cooper's face and had to look it up this morning. Lonely Planet on television a lifetime ago. Peru. Aha. PJ and the bearded guy are personality twins. Bradley's character in the movie was so laid back I was jealous. I laughed and I only fell asleep in one tiny part and only for a second and Ben checked and I was busted and therefore, awake. I heard they are making part 2 and I will go see it when it's out.

I really hope no one is offended when I check out of consciousness during a perfectly good movie. It has nothing to do with the quality or I would have slumbered right through 2012. Seriously. I like apocalypse movies. That one was a joke. It's just that when I stop moving, I fall asleep.

Today I'm sort of sitting here not cleaning my house, and after lunch we're going to get a big load of Christmas groceries, run a few errands (I need a weird light bulb for my range hood, Ben has to drop off his studio keys, etc.) and then we'll go and see Santa, because we haven't yet. I couldn't do crowds. I just couldn't. I'm hoping since it's a Monday afternoon he'll have a few moments for us. Then maybe out for some Thai (YAY!) and then some movies tonight at home. Whatever's on will be fine. I'm enjoying Benjamin until he is gone. That's all I can manage and I'm mostly able to push away the scary thoughts right this second.

A tall order on the shortest day of the year.

The strange part of today is Caleb's willingness to blend in, go with the flow and be mellow. He spoke with Batman, spoke with Sophie (I could hear their conversation and God is so playing a bad joke on me with this) and has been learning how to play video games with the children.

Everyone is focused on the children when they aren't shoving each other around and jostling for Bridget-time because apparently I am not the only planet in this galaxy. Which I knew already but frankly my kids are way more mature and well-adjusted than I am and so they need less reassurance and more fun, while I need more reassurance and perhaps a very thorough lobotomy.

Off to get the day underway, it will probably be a busy afternoon.

Learning as we go.

Daddy's little girl paints the world with her magic wand

Let's see now. It's Sunday night. The sun is going down which means the ghosts are waking up, Sam yelled at me (how could you have him in the house!), Ben and Caleb are arguing over Lochlan (which yeah, well, interesting) and I somehow have to tell Ruth that Molly died.

At least once a month Ruth and I snuggle down on the couch and watch Uptown Girls. It's our favorite afternoon activity when she's not feeling well or we're tired or just because. We know all the dialogue and the words to the songs. We cry when Molly or Ray cries onscreen. Now when we see it it's going to be unbearable, and it's just one more reminder that joy is measured in moments, and you can't let them go to waste.

I really hope Ben and Caleb can put their tempers away for the children's sakes. For my sake. So far so good. You know, I don't care how awful a person is or how much out of my comfort zone I end up, Christmas + alone is just not a combination I will let anyone take on. Even Satan.

I'm hoping for a peaceful supper and an escape kind of night. I have a couple of movies lined up and I'd like to learn to pass the time instead of enduring it. You know, taking my own damned advice.

No room at the inn.

My actual Christmas bonus wasn't the money put into funds that might mature when I do in order that I don't wind up playing airplane tag with kids in tow. Caleb isn't dumb. That money, along with any other money save for about a hundred dollars in my purse is out of reach unless I ask for it now. Mainly because if I have it, we will run. I don't lie.

The bonus was supposed to be Caleb leaving town for the holidays.

I was going to drive him to the airport myself this morning. Or rather, Ben would have, since it's slippery today and snowing.

And yet here he is. Still in town.

Why?

There was snow in Montreal. So much of it that rather than mess around with changing his plans or possibly getting stuck there when he is on a tight schedule, he opted to stay in town. Right. This is the part where I point out that since he's here, we'll have to see him and since there is nothing more depressing than a hotel during the holidays so...

He's staying here.

Sigh. I know.

He already asked where I keep the clothing steamer.

Umm.

Do you have an iron?

Um, nope.

Jesus, Bridget.

We're not barbarians. I don't iron. Period. Not anymore. I have. I will sometimes. Like once a year. If that. So when the iron looked slightly rusty I pitched it. So he's going to have his laundry picked up to be done. Which is fine. I would have loved to shrink all his favorite bespoke shirts and lose one sock out of every pair but really it's better this way.

Wait until he finds out the thread count in my sheets are close to zero.

Wait until the dog poops by the door instead of outside. It happens once a week or so.

Wait until he finds out I reheat coffee sometimes, if the boys are busy and no one brings any home for me or takes me out for some.

Wait until he really understands the gravity of staying in a hundred-year-old house with seven other people and an emergency-grade shortage of bathroom facilities.

Maybe, since it's Christmas, I should cut him some slack. I considered this briefly on my way into church and then as we were stepping around a group on the icy steps, both Caleb and Ben reached out, each placing a familiar hand on my back, one of which was very quickly withdrawn when treated with the dark flash of Ben's temper, ever so quietly over my head.

And so today instead of praying for patience, I was forced to pray feverishly and silently that no one murders Caleb in his sleep this Christmas season.

Ironic.

Right now.

We saw Avatar yesterday afternoon. And evening. It's a good almost three hours long, which is usually a lot for me. I only technically hold a thimble-full of pee and couldn't make it through King Kong even though it starred Naomi Watts and I have a huge crush on Naomi.

Whoops.

Okay! Avatar. It was so beautiful! The forest at night was amazing. I wanted to go there. I wanted the people to be happy and safe and I cared about them. Which is pretty significant. You forget they are aliens because humans are the aliens in this movie, the bad guys, the one ruining everything. I held my breath when the Na'vi flew through the skies and I cheered for them when they fought against their obstacles, both within their ranks and without. It was an adventure, an event, something not to be missed. Go see it, okay? You'll be glad you did.

Today toward moving we took the three very fat, very ancient goldfish to the pet store to be re-adopted. Then we tore down the tank and took it out of the house. It's very quiet on the main level now. I'm so used to the burbling and knocking noises from the tank and the ambient light from the corner of the room where it sat. Now Ben's guitars are stacked there. They will not be re-adopted but instead packed lovingly and the good ones carried on the plane or in the truck, we still have not decided if we will go by land or by air. It's too bad we can't fly on giant bonded-to winged critters like in the movie.

We also went for a drive around the city, a big loop from west to south and back again, stopping for coffee and donuts with Christmas sprinkles and Boston Cremes, which I lick all the filling out of and Ben makes lewd comments the entire time. I am still enjoying my coffee because I put it in my big Starbucks steel mug so it stays hot for days. So yummy. I'm hoping for equal yummies by going out for dinner and then maybe another drive to look at the lights.

I have started to work on this years resolutions for January first and beyond. I believe I have gotten off easy in the past. 'Stop missing Jake' is no longer the fallback goal of my life maybe. In around the edges there is light. It's faint but it glints just enough to be noticed. I have to work now. I have to make plans and look forward to things and move.

Dammit, Bridget, move, he says. Go, now, silly princess. Stop missing me.

I'm trying!

The balance of power shifts and it's awkward and exposing. Frightening when I let it get to me but empowering when I don't. Right now it's 75% frightening and 25% empowering but I'm working on a 60-40 split the other way. Trying to keep my eye on the prize.

Damn...wish my prize was Naoooooomi.

Haha.

Uninterrupted.

I'm going to check out of today, which hasn't gone all that smoothly but it may be because of the chip on my shoulder and go worship the velvet curtains and mid-black screen of the movie theater for three speechless hours of escape. Sorely needed, and long overdue.

Movies are my escape and they're been few and far between as of late. I'll be able to rectify that once Ben is away but for now I'm kind of a barnacle on his underbelly, content to cling and feed off his existence, a pretty parasite of the unnoticed kind. That is the hardest part of this move. I can pack things, I can arrange for things, I can coordinate things. I cannot process being away from Ben for weeks at a time anymore. Maybe I used to, maybe I never did.

God, this sucks.

On the upside, the kids are off for Christmas break, Ben is home for the next two weeks straight and okay, no, I really need the escape. Bye.

I'll have a review of Avatar later on. Possibly tonight.

Sweeping out the holly cart.

Leave me here forever in the dark.

I ran this morning. It feels like it's been ages, and my head felt heavy, my knees felt unreliable and the mittens I grabbed on the way out the door were the wrong ones and I wound up running with clenched fists and had to work very hard at keeping myself from jamming my hands under my arms. Have you tried to run like that? Exactly. At the speed I travel I need my arms for balance.

I can't keep up with Corey or Dalton. They maintained a two-block lead. Ben and Lochlan ran half a block behind me. I was the outcast and so I turned up my music and let a different Ben serenade me this morning.

And damn. I really love this record. My Ben still maintains this Ben is a lightweight. Benjamin is jealous of mainstream rock success maybe. The kind that his very incredibly heavy metal does not seem to enjoy save for large parts of Eastern Europe and a niche market here in the Americas. My Ben could turn on all that but he won't sell out to things he doesn't believe in and neither will I. I'm not saying the other Ben did, but the other Ben's music is just that much more palatable for radio, and for Bridget's worn out, broken ears.

There's room for everyone.

I think my Ben is jealous. I'm not sure I've ever quoted a song from his old band. Wait. I did once and some of you got it and I freaked out and left the internet. Then I came back, because fuck you, this is my page. So there.

I don't entertain the email questions about my Ben any more just like I don't sell out my blog for product placement or paid reviews or whatever else people ask me to do because that's not what I want here and I was royally pissed to see several formerly well-loved and anticipated blogs go that route recently. Ah well. Delete, delete.

To each his own, right? Room for everyone. Just not my thing. Just like I am not your thing, and that's okay too. I'm not dumb. I know you read it because you're curious. Everyone is curious. Even me.

So, back to my run.

Outcast novelist bookended by beards in a morning run that felt downright warm compared to temperatures as of late that had PJ offering me the stupid treadmill because he didn't want to chase me into the frostbite. I declined and ate cookies instead. Do you know I paid for those cookies this morning by bringing them in the form of extra pounds on my run. I will not make that mistake again. (Hey, mom? The cookies you sent are gone. Please send more. Thank you, love, your youngest daughter.) Damn cookies. They are so good.

Give me a sign
There's something buried in the words
Give me a sign
Your tears are adding to the flood
Just give me a sign

I'm taking some of today for non-moving things. I'm going to wrap presents, holing myself up in the library with the paper and the bows and the sharp scissors which I will be permitted as long as I return them to the keeper when I am through. Invisible tape and a black Sharpie for the tags. Silver and black for the colors this Christmas and a separate hidden roll of Victorian sleigh patterned paper for the gifts from Santa because my children still believe in the magic of Christmas, just like we do.

Just like you should, maybe.

This afternoon I will go to the box offices and pick up our Avatar tickets for tomorrow and our Switchfoot tickets for after New Years. Yes, I know, so not heavy but I really really like them, they sing my battle cries. All of them.

I have one more moving estimate to collect for Caleb (because I want to make sure you have the best of everything, princess.) and tomorrow is the final day of school for the year and soon the house will revert back to the chaotic bliss that it turns into when the children are home, from the shadow-filled mausoleum it is when they are away. Good. We have all kinds of plans to exact upon this city so we can wring the very best out of it before we go.

Cole asked me to do that. Last night when his hands slid around my neck as I slept into wakefulness, breath choked away from me because he's always liked to keep it, he reminded me that I am always running on ice that is thin, and resolve that is too fresh to stick and that there will be a fall, eventually. But he never says where and he never says when. It's always positively wonderful to get confirmation that leaving him was smart and that I have to keep the guards in place for his brother because I like evil.

I let his hands slide over my eyes (because I want to make sure you have the best of everything, princess.) so all I could see was the dark and I could see his face smiling at me and telling me to run. To leave this place where he died, leave the cold, leave the lights in the sky and the roads that go nowhere and live because he can't and so he needs me to. I'm not sure why Jacob let him take direction. I haven't heard from Jacob lately. I will ask.

You tell that to Lochlan or Ben and they frown and look at each other and it's almost comical because I highly doubt Cole talks to them in their sleep and that's okay because he's mine and they would never listen to him anyway except for the very major things like who gets Bridget when everybody dies?

We're ALL still waiting for the answer to that one.

And you thought it was neat that my Christmas ribbons are black. Bet you changed your mind just now.

Ben gets that look. That Jakey-resolve look that says he's going to fix everything and then he realizes he can't. So instead he does the best he can, and he knows that when push comes to shove, I can outrun anything.

He believes in me, just like he believes in ghosts and the spirit of Christmases past and Corey the wonder-gazelle, half human, half flying beast. Man, he goes so fast. I'm never running with him again.

I'm kidding, Corey.

Everything else is serious.

The mistress of disarmament.

After nine hours of running around doing things and being nice to people I am once again taking a few minutes to sit and have a coffee and do my daily word-arranging for your consideration.

Nine hours! What the hell? I'm a writer (read: unemployed). I really don't get how people with jobs get anything at all done. My bobby pins are off to you, in lieu of a hat. You have my admiration.

I've gotten twenty letters of thanks this morning from everyone born in the seventies for reminding them of that Chris De Burgh song last night. You're welcome. It is amazing, isn't it? It's made me cry every time I've ever heard it, starting when I was four years old. Neat.

I've done a hell of a lot of cleaning and organizing toward the move, and entertained the second of three moving estimators. I'm practically a pro this time around. Great fun. I'm feeling better about the packing part. I think I have that part under control.

Not sure I will ever be a pro at Missing Ben. And Ben has been gone a billion times before. That was then, this is now. Now he is mine and I finally have him to revolve around, tiny planet-moon that I am, without distractions and bullshit and whoops, there he goes again. He is very grumpy today. It isn't helping but I have been a worse pain in the ass than usual.

Ah well. Hopefully the time will go fast. I was talking to a military wife today who moves every nine months or so and she was incredibly supportive and encouraging and oddly it helped. I'm a detail person. The boys fly by the seat of their pants. They assume all will be well and I ask questions and organize things so that I don't have to assume. Otherwise I just wind up picturing the worst or wishing I had asked more questions.

I try to temper my rigidity with honesty though. The very first thing I do is thank people for their help and point out I am apprehensive/worried and then everyone is rocked off their guard and I get actual help. If it's a gift I don't know how it translates but it's always been the way I do business. Don't give me your spiel, give me your heart. Maybe that's how I wind up collecting so many, I disarm.

Now that the coffee is gone and the words have arrived I notice the children should be home any minute now. It's a lot warmer today, still cold by most sane people's standards. I am feeling better too. I still have a bad headache but the queasies and achies have all but vanished after three days of yuck. Whatever it is thankfully moves fast. No fever anymore either which is nice and I managed to achieve a full six and a half hours of sleep last night.

The sun is going down. Early next week is the winter solstice and then I will await the longer days with hope. I don't enjoy the very short days. It seems to make everything harder altogether. The first day of winter marks those precious moments of daylight that are tacked on to morning and night and I count every last one of them.

Every last one.

Shhhhh.

Ben is singing A Spaceman came Travelling.

Awesomeness.

Better for it.

Today I have the usual confidence daylight seems to bring.

I'm wrapping presents and cleaning and doing things toward the move and I'm battling an epic headache and chills and flu and really I'm thinking this is just all more life experience that I'm supposed to get and then maybe I'll be promoted to the next level.

Oh, wait, this isn't Warcraft and I don't get to level up. I won't be sainted or martyred and apparently Dirt Devil is not going to read my mind and send me a vacume to roadtest because I still can't spell vacume and guess what, I now refuse to ever buy another Dirt Devil again because it can't manage to do fuck-all on the four carpets in the entire house, two of which are actually classified as throw rugs, I would imagine. Seriously. Whoever designed these things should be crucified slowly and obviously has all wood and tile floors and a really kick ass broom.

Let's see. What else? The children are home because it's Fucking Cold Out and they are battling the same headache/chills/mild fever thing I am. Really going to school to watch a movie and decorate a gingerbread house is not as exciting as doing it here and not having to wait turns, miss pivotal dialogue because someone is talking or watch the other kid that you hate put the last gumdrop on the roof. Fuck it, kids, stay home and we'll build a whole gingerbread village, or maybe a city, or perhaps a municipality! And you'll hear the movie you watch and I'll make popcorn and you don't even have to put on snowpants. Not even once.

I am the coolest mom ever.

Well, I am.

Maybe you are too. It's okay. We can share the trophy and the glory. Or maybe you don't have kids but you made a kick-ass lunch or had a good sleep last night. Here, grab a hold, hoist it high.

I'm going to need to go scrap some of this confidence into a jar or something so I can bring it out when the vampires come. Nights and early mornings are no longer doing me any favors. I just lie there and imagine the furnace breaking, the car not starting, being out of liquid assets and having the rapture break loose all in the same night and winding up outside with the kids when it does.

That seems to be my nightmare.

That and missing Ben. You haven't met him, you don't understand what he means to me or how much I love him. If you have met him then I know you understand, and that this is practically incapacitating me.

I am trying to remember it's less than a deployment, less than a season and less than a lot of people endure. I am loved and spoiled and the odds are those awful vampires from 30 days of night probably won't find me. My father says the odds are small, if any.

He has not seen the movie.

My dad likes movies like Out of Africa. I did too, but I doubt it's for the same reasons. I don't think one of my father's daydreams involves Robert Redford washing his hair.

At least I hope not.

I am finished shopping for Christmas, the flu hasn't brought me down yet, and I'm caught up on laundry and cleaning now. I have not hired any Russian, Polish or Belarusian hit men to take out my evil brother-in-law yet (I SAID YET) but I do have their numbers in case I decide to later and I am grateful that the dog has finally learned he doesn't have to go out every two hours anymore. We are up to four or six. Which is nice in the cold.

I would babble at you just a little more but in the feverish, overtired state I am in, I would just stop making sense (what?) or say too much and then everyone would freak out. Instead I'm going to go rustle up some lunch and do a little more towards the move. It's a big job moving a spectacle of this size across the country. Didn't I tell you that last time?

I guess you didn't believe me.