You would love me when I'm angry.

I'm not so much sad, just determined. Get us the fuck out of here. Ben is safely in new location. I am mad. I think I'll put on Henry's Hulk Smash Hands and complete the look.

I'm not really mad, just slightly lost. Fortunately. I have a map. The directions are very clear, the landmarks precise. Visit the following places and at the end of the fucking rainbow will be your husband. And the warmer (albeit rainy) weather.

Rain? Who complains about rain? Talk to me after you've spent a winter here. I'll talk rain over the incredible cold any damn day. I have no designs on good hair days (that's what uptwists are for) and Maybelline makes a wickedly wonderful waterproof mascara.

But anyway, back to the map.

Today I had to visit the temple of wood filler and the tomb of gyproc breakdown and disposal. Also the market (for cake, naturally) and my much beloved shopping center, which is a temple of a different and consumerist sort. I got all that accomplished and even sucked the dirt off the floor with the thingie (are we going there? I don't think we're going there) and walked the kids to school and back.

All that AND we took Ben to the airport at five o'clock this morning.

Fiiiiiiiive. Jesus. And God, because God made Bridget coffee. In her own image.

Let me tell you, at this rate I'm going to blow through the checkpoints and win this multi-provincial endurance race before you can say...uh....March break and then I will unpack my drawing books and my violin bow and my tiny perfect wardrobe of pretty black things and I'll put my hands on my hips and regard my new vistas and I will give it my best Scarlet O'Hara:

As God as my witness, I will never be cold again!

(In any event, this is day one, so eleven more sleeps and Ben is home to add air to the tires on the car and save me from myself, if only briefly.)

Are we there yet?

I have run out of distractions, preparations and courage.

My eyes are burning and I feel like I'm going to vomit. In less than ten hours, none of which will be spent asleep, Ben will be gone, and for me it's the physical equivalent of ripping off my arms and legs, removing my heart and telling me to just deal with it.

Right. I can't fathom how I'm going to pull this off either. The only thing that comes to mind is taking the kids and going and sitting on the floor inside the closet and rocking all three of us until someone (ideally, Ben) comes back and breaks down the door. My head wants escape through any means possible, my heart wants to throw the house to the wolves and just go with him and my very small logical voice, heard in a whisper says to smarten up, grab the paintbrush and get busy. See how much you can get done before he returns.

He is home in eleven days but it's only for three. Then we do the long haul. A month, maybe more. No one has provided me with flight numbers and so I'm going on wary promises and disbelief.

Better things on the other side? I'll believe it when we get there. Until then, please excuse the river of tears and whatever else childish behavior you think is stupid. I'm not good at this and I will be making no apologies.

None of this is good.

Next person who calls them the 'aught years' gets a wedgie.

Oh my. I'm coming here late in the day. It's dark out and I'm incapable of telling you about this day or even tomorrow right this second so we'll go with a grateful list and call it a night.

1. I slept in. Only the sleeping part was only from about five until eight. (It was worth it. So, so worth it.)
2. Soundgarden is reuniting. YES!
   
3. The middle of January forecast appears to be warmer than it is now. Thank heavens.
4. I have movies to watch all month long. Most of them seem to involve Gerard Butler. Why? He makes me happy. Just like PJ and chocolate cake.
   
5. The drywall is finished. It was a huge project and it's done. Done!
   
6. There will be more cake. I'm going to go get one. Maybe on Tuesday.
7. Did I mention the two extra minutes of daylight a day?
   
8. When I grasp at straws, I am usually successful (see #7)

We're going to go now and make some bagels and fruit for dinner (lunch was so late, like 2:30!) and walk the puppy and watch some movies. Tomorrow is my last day of Normal Life with Ben. I have to keep reminding myself that it's not forever, but it sure feels like it is. And I know I'll be (almost) okay when he goes. I just wish he could stay.

PJ, Lochlan, Dalt, Sky, Danny, Christian and Rob all went today. So yeah. New plan. Pour cement into Ben's shoes. Turn off cellphones. Hunker down and disappear.

If only.

(say it with me: FORTY DEGREES WARMER THERE. BRIDGET, GET A GRIP!)

Three sleeps left and I don't know how I'm going to do this.
~via BlackBerry.

Wow. Thanks for the emails.

If ANYONE on the face of this earth has earned the right to medicate in any way, shape or form, it would be me. If you don't agree then it's simple. DON'T READ. You don't want to think I have ways to get to Jacob? I make you uncomfortable? Right.

I never said it would be pretty. I said *I* was pretty. There's a difference.

Well, here we go.

So this is the new year
and I have no resolutions
for self assigned penance
for problems with easy solutions

so everybody put your best suit or dress on
let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
as thirty dialogues bleed into one

In 2010, things are going to be different. We're preparing to move somewhere warmer than the -45 I walked out into this morning, the cold sunshine burning my skin and my eyes, no amount of coat or arms or heat able to block the shivering.

In 2010, Ben and I will celebrate our second anniversary married.

In 2010, the children will turn 11 and 9 and I don't know where all this time actually went but perhaps in 2010 I will find and restore it so things move at a more natural pace that isn't way too fast or agonizing slow.

In 2010 we will be rich but not in material wealth and not because I sold out for sugar because it seemed like a great way at the time to ensure the future and stick it to Satan all at once. The richness will be in adventure and in living near water and mountains and forests and warmth, because we are ocean people and ocean people need oceans nearby.

2010 for Bridget is dedicated to making every day fun and peaceful of mind and learning how to embrace the present and just be. Deal with things as they arise instead of distressing myself to pieces over what may or may not go wrong. Maybe on paper that seems to be a circumvention of traditional resolutions, but if you know me, then you understand that it will be a full-time job.

Enjoying every single day to the fullest will be difficult considering that between now and Monday, most of the boys are leaving for work in our new city, and on Monday proper Ben flies out too. Which leaves just me and the children behind here in the city that is colder than Siberia to navigate the remainder of winter, the sale of this big wonderful house and the mountain of painting and packing that needs to be done.

Enmeshed in daily living will be efforts to maintain or improve my mental health. With things like sleep and good food and biofeedback and distractions because it's been so easy to lean on the boys, letting them fix things while I fret and flutter around their margins. Maybe I'll become stronger. This is the collective hope. Failure is not an option. Failure means the end of everything and so we can't entertain that scenario. It just can't happen and so it won't.

Last evening I spent the final night of 2010 bubbled in expensive champagne, dancing, sparkling. Talking about profound things and accepting admiration I haven't earned yet.

I cried when August started a midnight singalong of Auld Lang Syne and I went to the beach house when Caleb came looking for us after the last guest drifted from my hazy vision, opening the door just in time.

Jacob turned around from where he was drying dishes at the kitchen sink.

There you are. Happy new year, princess.

Happy new year, Jake.

What should we do today?

Let's take a walk on the beach.

Are you sure? It's pretty cold today.

I'm sure.

Black tie optional (New Year's Absolutions)

Here is an education, the lesson professed is quite cruel
There are some things worse than death
And one of them is you.

Oh my goodness. All that hard physical work this week and one piece of cake yesterday is going to ruin the tenuous relationship I have with this dress.

I just won't breathe. Which is fine, since if I breathe I might take in cold air and it's freeeezing tonight. The dress will be hidden under a suit jacket most of the evening, unless it's very warm at the loft.

Caleb is throwing a New Year's Eve party.

He came back early after going to Montreal for much of the week and managed to pull together a huge soiree for this evening. The children are going to PJ's mother's house for a sleepover and we are all in our best right now, something I generally only see for memorial services and other people's weddings.

I borrowed an iron from my neighbor for Ben's shirt.

He looks amazing in a suit. I think I've said that before. Ben's linebacker shoulders squared up in a plain black suit and a dark grey shirt and dress shoes make me melt. Perhaps I can have Caleb teach him to shoot his cuffs and then my knees would be even more wobbly than they are when I look at him now.

This is the last party in this city. The last time all of us will be together here. The last New Years we will celebrate at thirty below and the final time that I visit the loft, since it has already sold and Caleb is actually staying at the house with us.

All of my boys look so handsome when they put some effort into finding something to wear other than their usual uniforms of flannel shirts, jeans and beards. And I think I look almost okay in my Marchesa dress. Okay enough to leave August speechless for the first few minutes when he arrived and I answered the door looking like a ballerina on a coffee break. Dress. Hair in curlers. Bare legs. Now that my hair is finished and I've found my garters and stockings and shoes the look is complete. Maybe he thought I looked awful.

Right.

Ben just stares and smiles, happy that the diamond and the amethyst rings that dangle off my finger came from him. Oddly still relieved on major holidays and events that I didn't marry Lochlan as they really and truly thought I would had all the planets aligned when we were teenagers. Now everyone seems to have come to a place where they leave Ben and I alone. Save for Caleb. He doesn't leave us alone. Lochlan does, because Lochlan is aware that major holidays and events belong to the devil. He doesn't like it, he is just aware.

This will be the last night we spend at the loft and I'm relieved for that. That is what I'm celebrating. The end of that place as Caleb's evil playground. Happy New Year indeed. I'm hoping that maybe he leaves me with enough dignity that I can show my face at New Year's Day brunch tomorrow without wanting to crawl into a hole until I'm given the signal that I am not blamed for the appetites of others and that it's merely a source of massive relief when I walk out of a room after being touched by Satan himself, instead of being carried out or led out unsteadily, painfully. I won't say bruised because bruises are a given. Bite marks too. Twisted, twitching muscles and mollified expressions a staple the day after.

I can only walk into the party tonight with the hopes that it runs long, which makes the endurance that Ben and I submit to shorter in length, and that Satan is feeling generous instead of selfish. But that's the thing with hopes. They are something that optimists hold. I never claimed to be one of those.

Happy New Year. Tomorrow if I have any wits left I'll share my resolutions. I hope you will too. I always love to hear what others have in store for the upcoming year.

Too tired to be dramatic tonight. Sigh.

Every single cut we made today had to be some sort of lazy parallelogram, a listing rectangle, screwed into the studs with a hope and a prayer and more swear words than ever before. We went through fourteen sheets of plasterboard and three hundred screws, suffering a host of injuries.

I wound up under a falling sheet once again and Ben didn't happen to be handy enough to catch it today so as a result my head is a little flat now in one space so there will be no words that begin with a D until it returns to normal. Ben carved up his knuckles and stepped on a huge rusted staple which wouldn't come out easily. I'm sure it hit bone and tetanus will befall him shortly.

But we're finished and he never nailed me to the wall by my hood and I never attempted to accidentally stab the crowbar into his back. We even cleaned up together, put away all of the tools and remarked on how good the porch looks now. And how warm it is. Amazing.

And then we had cake. And now coffee. And looked at our phones and found a second round of missed calls and orphan messages that will be returned tomorrow because tomorrow will not be spent working.

All of the very major construction-type thingies are finished now and I'm so happy for that tonight it's hard to be freaked out that I can't lift my arms anymore and I have splinters in my splinters and plaster in my hair and I may have killed another vacume (yes, spelling) cleaner with errant screws and construction wreckage.

So happy.

I will never put up plasterboard again. Ever.

(Find any d-words yet?) <---epic princess FAIL. Look at the title.

It started off sweet enough.

I was sitting on the floor trying to loosen the chuck of the drill or whatever that thing is you do when you want to change the bit when I heard a yell and saw Ben's feet appear beside me, then his face. Above his shoulders and resting on his back was the eight-foot sheet of heavy drywall that would have fallen on me otherwise.

Had it happened two hours later he probably would have let it fall on me and no one would have blamed him.

We managed to get eight sheets of it up today after finishing the framing-in and are planning to get the rest done tomorrow. My back and my legs are aching, I failed to sleep much again last night am I'm frustrated that we're mired in his last week home doing work on the house and I pretty much had a very unpretty meltdown just as we opted to hang it up for the night, after hours of bickering and admiring our work, alternately.

I hate tomorrow already but I plan to drag my sorry little aching butt to the grocery store first and I'm going to buy a giant chocolate cake or six so that when it's all done the princess gets a treat. Seriously, fuck these crooked walls and unsquare floors, all will be well when it's finished and we can have dessert. Dessert makes everything better.

It's Monday, I think.

I have twenty minutes to myself before the laundry will be dry and need folding so I end up here, knocking lightly on the door to my journal, hoping to stop in for a quick coffee before the day continues. I have coffee with me, a big fresh cup from the pot I made a few minutes ago because Ben wanted some too. I have some every day between two and three no matter what or I'm a narcoleptic nightmare after supper. Coffee does bad things to Ben's guts and he shouldn't have any but he does it anyway. He is here beside me working on his macbook.

Today toward moving we went and got the drywall screws and tape to go with the drywall they brought in on the twenty-third, and we worked for a couple hours finishing up the shelves in the kitchen. We had shortened the counter space a few years ago to accommodate the pastry station/chopping block end, and were left with an odd little open corner where the drawers met the rest of the cupboards.

Ben finished all of that off today, adding two shelves for cookbooks or wine or trays or whatever you want to put in them. They're cubby-holes and they work very well, adding a little more character because that's what we are good at. I will paint them after he goes to New York. I'll be painting a lot of things. For today I was content to assume my role of sitting on the floor handing him drill bits and levels and screws, burning his image into my brain as if I haven't already done that a thousand times over.

Also toward moving today we gave away Butterfield's big metal cage to a neighbor. It's far too large for little Bonham, and it's been sitting in the back porch for two years. We're going to need to empty the room in order to get the drywall up tomorrow.

I also had much success in shoveling the end of the driveway. After our Christmas storm, we were finally plowed out this morning, and I took the shovel down to the end of the driveway to clear the ridge of snow-plates that wind up blocking my escape and the bulldozer operator saw me and came back and scraped all the snow away from the drive before I had a chance to level my shovel at the mess. Bless him. I blew kisses as he drove away, went inside and fully half the boys in residence expressed doubt that I had finished that quickly. I said nothing and they went and looked and saw it all done and since I have no poker face I told them about the driver who came back and cleared it and they are content now that my charm still functions well enough to get the job done any way I can.

(Which is a total double standard in that it's okay for snow-clearing but not okay for anything related to Caleb. Surprise.)

Tonight I have to take a pill to summon sleep and possibly will hit my head a few more times to spool up the birds and take myself out of evil consciousness for a brief respite. I didn't sleep for five minutes last night and am frustrated with just about everything today as a result. Which is silly because I had a lovely night wrapped tightly in Ben's arms while he took away any chance I'll ever have again of being regarded as a lady proper, and then when he finally fell asleep I was wide awake and unable to quiet my head but not able to identify anything I could actively work on which defeats the purpose of being able to talk myself out of panic and that isn't fair.

For the moment, however, it is good to know the house is almost done, the roads are driveable again, the coffee is hot Sumatra, Ben still has this whole week here in within reach of the princess, which is nice. Time finally moves a little bit slowly. Or so it feels today.

Tomorrow the framing will be finished and the drywall goes up in the porch. It's going to be a busy day but it will be satisfying too to get that big job underway at last. I'm almost excited. And I HATE renovating. Think I can get a new house next time? Yeah, me neither.