Ben leaves the front door and returns to the table with another envelope. This one is a pale pearl gold with a paper snowflake affixed to the flap. He puts it on the table in front of me and I don't need to see my name neatly printed on the front in Caleb's handwriting to know that it's from him. The color is new, however and so I raise my eyes from the envelope to meet Ben's face.
He nods. Ben just looks tired. Tired but beginning to relax and beginning to run out of patience and I'm not allowed out of his reach for the rest of my life, he says. I only wish he were serious.
I open it. Inside is a cheque for seven hundred and fifty dollars with a note on the memo line that says 'bonus'. A post-it note attached says 'Is this better?'
I stifle a laugh. The formality of this, what I asked for instead of the unwelcome entire legacy of our blended, dysfunctional family makes me feel vaguely silly. But the fact that Caleb wrote it out and had it delivered anyway after I asked for a fair amount based on the work I did for the company means I must be doing something right.
Small victories. Even as he surgically removes the rest of my dignity with his patented incision-free technique.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
He pushed his head against mine. He's warm. I am cold on the inside, blood running over sheets of crackling thin ice, breaking with every breath. His hand drops from my head to my hand and he pulls it up between us and slides off my ring. I argue softly but he ignores me. His eyes are flashing, pupils dilated. He puts my ring in his pocket and I watch it disappear. It's a rule I don't subscribe to but I understand.
He bends his head down again and kisses my ear. I lift my chin up and rest it against his shoulder as his arms tighten around me. I whisper things under my breath and he responds with light squeezes. He can hear me. I cannot hear myself. I pull him in against me and he responds by pushing me down, his weight the only leverage he will need. His hands are feeling for the zipper on the side of my dress while his lips crush against mine, biting. Breathing me in. It's dark but our eyes are not adjusting. He gives up and reaches for the hem instead, pulling it up, shoving the fabric out of his way. The dress is between us, the beading digging into his flesh, straps pinning my arms down. He grabs the worst one with his hand and pulls until it rips away and I protest and he immediately covers my mouth. Silence is easier. I am lifted up and pulled in close against the uncanny warmth of his skin. All business now, we aren't going to give away anything here. We aren't going to bow to the whims of the shadows standing nearby, cuff links glinting in the pitch-black night.
His hand comes down from my mouth as he finds his way home and it wraps around my throat. I am helpless now, clinging to the waves of euphoria. It's an eternity. I know that he is close and he presses his head down against mine again and I am already turning blue, clawing for precious air with no strength, held captive with no means to save myself and all I can do is wait for rescue. I am three lifetimes ago and I can hear the calliope and his curls are in my mouth and his breath is hot against my shoulders and finally he lets go and he never fails to land a kiss on my shoulder as he pulls me up. I come back to life.
He whispers loudly that the shadows will fade. He takes his time. Checking to be sure he left no marks. Checking to be sure he left no feelings of afraid or of sad for Bridget to trip over or fall into. Telling himself it's all going to be okay because she can't hear him. He doesn't dare speak any louder.
While I slept on my ring was taken. When at last the shadows stopped watching I lost my mind.
He bends his head down again and kisses my ear. I lift my chin up and rest it against his shoulder as his arms tighten around me. I whisper things under my breath and he responds with light squeezes. He can hear me. I cannot hear myself. I pull him in against me and he responds by pushing me down, his weight the only leverage he will need. His hands are feeling for the zipper on the side of my dress while his lips crush against mine, biting. Breathing me in. It's dark but our eyes are not adjusting. He gives up and reaches for the hem instead, pulling it up, shoving the fabric out of his way. The dress is between us, the beading digging into his flesh, straps pinning my arms down. He grabs the worst one with his hand and pulls until it rips away and I protest and he immediately covers my mouth. Silence is easier. I am lifted up and pulled in close against the uncanny warmth of his skin. All business now, we aren't going to give away anything here. We aren't going to bow to the whims of the shadows standing nearby, cuff links glinting in the pitch-black night.
His hand comes down from my mouth as he finds his way home and it wraps around my throat. I am helpless now, clinging to the waves of euphoria. It's an eternity. I know that he is close and he presses his head down against mine again and I am already turning blue, clawing for precious air with no strength, held captive with no means to save myself and all I can do is wait for rescue. I am three lifetimes ago and I can hear the calliope and his curls are in my mouth and his breath is hot against my shoulders and finally he lets go and he never fails to land a kiss on my shoulder as he pulls me up. I come back to life.
He whispers loudly that the shadows will fade. He takes his time. Checking to be sure he left no marks. Checking to be sure he left no feelings of afraid or of sad for Bridget to trip over or fall into. Telling himself it's all going to be okay because she can't hear him. He doesn't dare speak any louder.
While I slept on my ring was taken. When at last the shadows stopped watching I lost my mind.
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Voted most expressive, much to her dismay.
I can hear the furnace humming quietly, probably because the cold air return is on the wall behind my desk. I can hear the ticking of the dishwasher as it warms the plates, because my desk is in a nook just off the kitchen. I hear a dog barking on a nearby street and Bonham is holding guard by the front door waiting for Ben and the children, who have gone shopping. I am supposed to be wrapping presents while they're gone but clearly I am not.
Today was a little rockier to begin. Not sure if we stayed up too late or it was just excess tension to blow off but we all started off on the wrong foot and I got very frustrated with some things that don't work and made a tearful plea for Ben to quit the mood swings and just fix everything please because I am tired of the pressure.
He is. Working away at it as we speak.
He waited a while to see what I would do but I don't have the capacity for patience anymore, I will go at it the hard way until I just can't manage it anymore and I reach that point where it's fucking stupid and pointless and no more.
There aren't enough hours in the day to fix things and yet there are enough hours to mess things up and break everything and become so frustrated I can't stop the hot tears that ruin my mascara and everyone's smiles in one go. I can't help it, it's been like this for a long time and it takes forever to come out of and really I'm laughing at the same time because it's ridiculous. I am blessed. The complaints would be welcome issues anywhere else and yet I have insurance against anything that goes wrong, so then when it does it will be the end of the world because that's precisely what I insured against, correct?
If only life worked that way, princess.
It should. I've earned it.
Sorry, baby. It isn't possible. It's called life.
Everyone makes it look easy.
They're better actors, that's all. Maybe your gift is that you give people permission to be honest and feel comfortable because you come to them with your heart on your sleeve and your guard already down.
I want to be an actor. Everyone can marvel at my perfection and the ease with which I live.
This is met with long, raucous laughter. I am annoyed.
Stop it, Jake.
I can't help it. You have the most fascinating thought-process.
I don't think it belongs to me, I must have picked it up along the way. I don't know how it works and therefore I can't control it. It's not mine.
It's the honesty, that's all. You never had a poker face.
Then that will be my resolution for the new year.
To learn to lie? That isn't a very good resolution, Bridget.
What would you suggest then?
Start writing again. Do the things that make you YOU.
Too hard.
You think learning the art of deception will be easier?
Works for everyone else.
Oh, Bridget, give up now. You'll never be anyone else.
My loss?
Your gain.
And you say my thoughts are strange.
Today was a little rockier to begin. Not sure if we stayed up too late or it was just excess tension to blow off but we all started off on the wrong foot and I got very frustrated with some things that don't work and made a tearful plea for Ben to quit the mood swings and just fix everything please because I am tired of the pressure.
He is. Working away at it as we speak.
He waited a while to see what I would do but I don't have the capacity for patience anymore, I will go at it the hard way until I just can't manage it anymore and I reach that point where it's fucking stupid and pointless and no more.
There aren't enough hours in the day to fix things and yet there are enough hours to mess things up and break everything and become so frustrated I can't stop the hot tears that ruin my mascara and everyone's smiles in one go. I can't help it, it's been like this for a long time and it takes forever to come out of and really I'm laughing at the same time because it's ridiculous. I am blessed. The complaints would be welcome issues anywhere else and yet I have insurance against anything that goes wrong, so then when it does it will be the end of the world because that's precisely what I insured against, correct?
If only life worked that way, princess.
It should. I've earned it.
Sorry, baby. It isn't possible. It's called life.
Everyone makes it look easy.
They're better actors, that's all. Maybe your gift is that you give people permission to be honest and feel comfortable because you come to them with your heart on your sleeve and your guard already down.
I want to be an actor. Everyone can marvel at my perfection and the ease with which I live.
This is met with long, raucous laughter. I am annoyed.
Stop it, Jake.
I can't help it. You have the most fascinating thought-process.
I don't think it belongs to me, I must have picked it up along the way. I don't know how it works and therefore I can't control it. It's not mine.
It's the honesty, that's all. You never had a poker face.
Then that will be my resolution for the new year.
To learn to lie? That isn't a very good resolution, Bridget.
What would you suggest then?
Start writing again. Do the things that make you YOU.
Too hard.
You think learning the art of deception will be easier?
Works for everyone else.
Oh, Bridget, give up now. You'll never be anyone else.
My loss?
Your gain.
And you say my thoughts are strange.
Monday, 20 December 2010
Duck hunt.
(You always pick up the ones with the S and yet you're getting the L prize. Every fucking time. How are you doing that, exactly?)
Oh, Internet, seriously. Just stop it. You're wrong on so many levels it isn't funny. It's a freaking song. It wasn't meant for you, as I said right before I left it here.
But here, since one of my resolutions is to stop starting. Stop telling you things and then leaving you hanging with no resolution. The secret buried in the corn field? It's not a body so knock it off. The buried part is FIGURATIVE. Sheesh. I'm not very smart and I can figure out how to write about it, surely you can manage the comprehension part.
To retain my crown of intellect today I'll tell you where I spent last evening. Cruising the harbour on the yacht with Caleb. Because really, one whose life is in danger should always get on a boat with those who want to see her dead, or some such golden rule like so. He met us at the marina and began the evening with a toast, with small glasses of Stoli, neat, to finally having the chance to spend a little time together.
We had our toast, Ben drank to nothing, not even opening his vitamin water that Caleb keeps stocked for him and then they walked up to the bridge and I went out on deck to watch the open ocean, taking the bottle of Stoli with me.
Two hours later I had finished it. Sadly it was only half full when I began. Just enough to give me a lick of courage and a terribly adorable case of the hiccups and when the boys came back down I was wrapped in a blanket staring at the lights of the harbor, almost-crying and hiccuping. I'm telling you, you can't take me anywhere.
Ben told me that he made it very clear to Caleb why we didn't attend the party (right in front of him! He is learning!) and then asked me what I wanted to do now. He always asks, in case you think otherwise. Not because he's a pushover (he isn't) but for reasons that really are none of your business. You think it's easy for him? Jesus CHRIST. You know nothing.
My head is still playing the stupid song and I ask to go home. Caleb's eyes go black because he was hoping we would stay. I don't want to stay. I don't want to be here at all. I want to know what they have to talk about that takes two hours when Ben appeared twenty fucking years after most of our secrets were fixed into place. Don't be friends. Don't get along. Jesus Christ, don't ever align yourself with this man because all he's ever wanted to do is ruin my fucking life, Ben.
Truth serum, after a fashion. Why Caleb prefers other means of bringing me down.
That's not what I want, princess.
I meet Caleb's eyes.
Oh, I know what you want. And you think you have it but what you have is a fucking FRACTION of what he gets. I am poking my finger into Ben's chest. I think I've actually broken my finger against Ben's chest. It isn't the same, you know. It's like two percent out of a thousand. And it will never be any more than that. I laugh and it's cut off by another fucking hiccup.
I think maybe you'd better take her home, Caleb says to Ben. He's going to pretend the poison barbs aren't hitting him and I'm going to keep throwing them until someone stops me or I run out.
You're such a monster.
Goodnight, Bridget.
I really wanted to spit in his direction but I don't believe I know how. I settled for gracefully ignoring him. Okay, ungracefully. Stilettos + boarding ramp + dock + hiccups + disappointed ex-brother-in-law times Stoli divided by my resolve to leave before he changes his mind and keeps us for the night. It happens, sometimes. Beginning under the guise of working through my feelings and ending with me pinned to the floor and then dropping right through it into a world where he couldn't touch me if he tried.
He can't stand for being ignored. He follows us down the ramp and asks Ben for just a moment of my time, alone. Ben makes that face at him, that beautiful, angry face that pretty much answers the question, and so Caleb settles for a public exchange.
We'll talk later in the week, princess. Translation: I didn't get my revenge for you not showing up to the party I threw for you. Also: WANT.
Maybe. I love how he pretends that I have all the power when it comes to this stuff. I have now slipped out of his hands precisely twice in less than forty-eight hours. It's not going to be pretty when he blocks the next escape. Sure I hold all the power. And the moment I let go of that, I will lose someone else that I love very, very dearly (besides Ben). Caleb knows I'm not going to do that and therefore he will exploit me until the day I die. The one you should feel sorry for here is Ben, since the rest of us made our beds and he did nothing wrong. How incredibly amazing he is to put up with this in the first place. To want in when in seems to be a slow train to hell and back and we can never ever disembark.
Glad he's strong enough. I still don't think I am.
Oh, Internet, seriously. Just stop it. You're wrong on so many levels it isn't funny. It's a freaking song. It wasn't meant for you, as I said right before I left it here.
But here, since one of my resolutions is to stop starting. Stop telling you things and then leaving you hanging with no resolution. The secret buried in the corn field? It's not a body so knock it off. The buried part is FIGURATIVE. Sheesh. I'm not very smart and I can figure out how to write about it, surely you can manage the comprehension part.
To retain my crown of intellect today I'll tell you where I spent last evening. Cruising the harbour on the yacht with Caleb. Because really, one whose life is in danger should always get on a boat with those who want to see her dead, or some such golden rule like so. He met us at the marina and began the evening with a toast, with small glasses of Stoli, neat, to finally having the chance to spend a little time together.
We had our toast, Ben drank to nothing, not even opening his vitamin water that Caleb keeps stocked for him and then they walked up to the bridge and I went out on deck to watch the open ocean, taking the bottle of Stoli with me.
Two hours later I had finished it. Sadly it was only half full when I began. Just enough to give me a lick of courage and a terribly adorable case of the hiccups and when the boys came back down I was wrapped in a blanket staring at the lights of the harbor, almost-crying and hiccuping. I'm telling you, you can't take me anywhere.
Ben told me that he made it very clear to Caleb why we didn't attend the party (right in front of him! He is learning!) and then asked me what I wanted to do now. He always asks, in case you think otherwise. Not because he's a pushover (he isn't) but for reasons that really are none of your business. You think it's easy for him? Jesus CHRIST. You know nothing.
My head is still playing the stupid song and I ask to go home. Caleb's eyes go black because he was hoping we would stay. I don't want to stay. I don't want to be here at all. I want to know what they have to talk about that takes two hours when Ben appeared twenty fucking years after most of our secrets were fixed into place. Don't be friends. Don't get along. Jesus Christ, don't ever align yourself with this man because all he's ever wanted to do is ruin my fucking life, Ben.
Truth serum, after a fashion. Why Caleb prefers other means of bringing me down.
That's not what I want, princess.
I meet Caleb's eyes.
Oh, I know what you want. And you think you have it but what you have is a fucking FRACTION of what he gets. I am poking my finger into Ben's chest. I think I've actually broken my finger against Ben's chest. It isn't the same, you know. It's like two percent out of a thousand. And it will never be any more than that. I laugh and it's cut off by another fucking hiccup.
I think maybe you'd better take her home, Caleb says to Ben. He's going to pretend the poison barbs aren't hitting him and I'm going to keep throwing them until someone stops me or I run out.
You're such a monster.
Goodnight, Bridget.
I really wanted to spit in his direction but I don't believe I know how. I settled for gracefully ignoring him. Okay, ungracefully. Stilettos + boarding ramp + dock + hiccups + disappointed ex-brother-in-law times Stoli divided by my resolve to leave before he changes his mind and keeps us for the night. It happens, sometimes. Beginning under the guise of working through my feelings and ending with me pinned to the floor and then dropping right through it into a world where he couldn't touch me if he tried.
He can't stand for being ignored. He follows us down the ramp and asks Ben for just a moment of my time, alone. Ben makes that face at him, that beautiful, angry face that pretty much answers the question, and so Caleb settles for a public exchange.
We'll talk later in the week, princess. Translation: I didn't get my revenge for you not showing up to the party I threw for you. Also: WANT.
Maybe. I love how he pretends that I have all the power when it comes to this stuff. I have now slipped out of his hands precisely twice in less than forty-eight hours. It's not going to be pretty when he blocks the next escape. Sure I hold all the power. And the moment I let go of that, I will lose someone else that I love very, very dearly (besides Ben). Caleb knows I'm not going to do that and therefore he will exploit me until the day I die. The one you should feel sorry for here is Ben, since the rest of us made our beds and he did nothing wrong. How incredibly amazing he is to put up with this in the first place. To want in when in seems to be a slow train to hell and back and we can never ever disembark.
Glad he's strong enough. I still don't think I am.
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Journey (like the bat signal only slightly faster).
I have five minutes to myself on this boat and wi-fi only until he finds out and cuts me off. Tethering for the win, asshole.
Highway run
Into the midnight sun
Wheels go round and round
You're on my mind
Restless hearts
Sleep alone tonight
Sending all my love
Along the wire
They say that the road
Ain't no place to start a family
Right down the line
It's been you and me
And loving a music man
Ain't always what it's supposed to be
Oh, girl, you stand by me
I'm forever yours
Faithfully
Circus life
Under the big top world
We all need the clowns
To make us smile
Through space and time
Always another show
Wondering where I am
Lost without you
And being apart
Ain't easy on this love affair
Two strangers learn to fall in love again
I get the joy of rediscovering you
Oh, girl, you stand by me
I'm forever yours
Faithfully
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Another review from someone whose favorite movie is 28 Days Later.
(So take everything I say with a grain of salt. You know how my tastes run.)
Today I am in much better condition than yesterday and it's raining and dreary so it is movie review day! We snuck out before lunch for the earliest Tron: Legacy viewing of the day .
I am so glad we did. I had skimmed a few headlines and tweets about it, mostly from people who didn't enjoy it, so I reserved my curiosity like I always do and went to see it without having read any actual reviews. I mean, what in the hell is a movie review? It's a subjective opinion. Just like for fine art and music. Who goes to see something or stays home, or likes one band or one artist but not another based on a reviewers opinion? I would sooner shoot you in the face than let you tell me you can't or won't make up your own damned mind.
With that, here's my review. Haha.
I enjoyed the hell out of it, frankly. What a wild ride. The characters had chemistry, the plot was succinct and easy to follow. The nostalgia boot of the eighties arcade lifestyle hit me in the ass, and I thought Jeff Bridges as himself stole the show. He delivered a few lines that made me tear up even. The lightbike scenes were thrilling and the music (all Daft Punk) and the visual effects were stunning, making for some serious sensory overload. I loved the skies (look behind things). The story wasn't overly complicated so your average Joe can follow it without actually needing to see the original 1982 Tron (which is good because I slept through it last year sometime, not having seen it as a child)
So if I could keep track of what was going on, anyone could have, but no one will be bored by it either. It moves along smoothly and the action is fairly fast-paced. I did think Olivia Wilde's character was simple to the point of seeming to be gratuitous but then I figured out why. Duh. Except for the whole lounging in front of the fireplace scene..that was just freaking dumb. Sit up, for heaven's sakes. It was all sex kitten where it wasn't called for and really distracted me, as did Sam's one-off I'm so cool, I can outcool everyone lines in the 'real world'. He was cooler when he didn't try so hard, you know?
And damn. The best part. Cillian Murphy. I've had a thing for him mostly since I first laid eyes on him (in that most perfect zombie movie for ALL ETERNITY) and I had no idea he was going to be in this and it's only for one scene but it was worth it. I found out a few moments ago that he does indeed remain uncredited but he's impossible to miss. So hot.
Anyway, if you were ever a fan of the first one or like highly visual movies that leave you biting your lip and hanging on to the arms of your theater seat, go see Tron: Legacy.
Today I am in much better condition than yesterday and it's raining and dreary so it is movie review day! We snuck out before lunch for the earliest Tron: Legacy viewing of the day .
I am so glad we did. I had skimmed a few headlines and tweets about it, mostly from people who didn't enjoy it, so I reserved my curiosity like I always do and went to see it without having read any actual reviews. I mean, what in the hell is a movie review? It's a subjective opinion. Just like for fine art and music. Who goes to see something or stays home, or likes one band or one artist but not another based on a reviewers opinion? I would sooner shoot you in the face than let you tell me you can't or won't make up your own damned mind.
With that, here's my review. Haha.
I enjoyed the hell out of it, frankly. What a wild ride. The characters had chemistry, the plot was succinct and easy to follow. The nostalgia boot of the eighties arcade lifestyle hit me in the ass, and I thought Jeff Bridges as himself stole the show. He delivered a few lines that made me tear up even. The lightbike scenes were thrilling and the music (all Daft Punk) and the visual effects were stunning, making for some serious sensory overload. I loved the skies (look behind things). The story wasn't overly complicated so your average Joe can follow it without actually needing to see the original 1982 Tron (which is good because I slept through it last year sometime, not having seen it as a child)
So if I could keep track of what was going on, anyone could have, but no one will be bored by it either. It moves along smoothly and the action is fairly fast-paced. I did think Olivia Wilde's character was simple to the point of seeming to be gratuitous but then I figured out why. Duh. Except for the whole lounging in front of the fireplace scene..that was just freaking dumb. Sit up, for heaven's sakes. It was all sex kitten where it wasn't called for and really distracted me, as did Sam's one-off I'm so cool, I can outcool everyone lines in the 'real world'. He was cooler when he didn't try so hard, you know?
And damn. The best part. Cillian Murphy. I've had a thing for him mostly since I first laid eyes on him (in that most perfect zombie movie for ALL ETERNITY) and I had no idea he was going to be in this and it's only for one scene but it was worth it. I found out a few moments ago that he does indeed remain uncredited but he's impossible to miss. So hot.
Anyway, if you were ever a fan of the first one or like highly visual movies that leave you biting your lip and hanging on to the arms of your theater seat, go see Tron: Legacy.
Friday, 17 December 2010
Cold comfort.
We are supposed to be at Caleb's Christmas party downtown but here I sit in my purple striped pajama pants and a threadbare white t-shirt instead of the plum satin cocktail dress that is still laid out on the bed upstairs.
Ben did not make our excuses on my behalf, no one did, we simply didn't show. Ben wants to be home, wants to be with me and the children and live quietly for a while and I have one of those headaches, the ones that I won't admit to until the last moment, the ones that will see me shutting down completely in a few more minutes and curling up into a ball to withstand the night. Ignoring the angry text messages and voice mails. Caleb will be outraged. He can wait.
These headaches are the ones Lochlan would wish away for me, letting me sip brandy mixed in juice to numb the hurt, packing bags of ice around me so I could sleep, staying awake to wring out a cold towel to rest against my forehead. Always reassuring me my head was not going to explode. I was not going to die. I would be okay the next day. I would wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life against the pain.
And bullshit, I would tell him through tears. How do you know it won't explode? I was afraid of that pain, because I don't feel pain like normal people, so if I can feel it, it must be very very bad.
Lochlan said the same reminders tonight, as Ben gently yelled at me to go to bed already, that there's no honor in suffering by trying to stay awake.
He's right. I'm going.
Ben did not make our excuses on my behalf, no one did, we simply didn't show. Ben wants to be home, wants to be with me and the children and live quietly for a while and I have one of those headaches, the ones that I won't admit to until the last moment, the ones that will see me shutting down completely in a few more minutes and curling up into a ball to withstand the night. Ignoring the angry text messages and voice mails. Caleb will be outraged. He can wait.
These headaches are the ones Lochlan would wish away for me, letting me sip brandy mixed in juice to numb the hurt, packing bags of ice around me so I could sleep, staying awake to wring out a cold towel to rest against my forehead. Always reassuring me my head was not going to explode. I was not going to die. I would be okay the next day. I would wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life against the pain.
And bullshit, I would tell him through tears. How do you know it won't explode? I was afraid of that pain, because I don't feel pain like normal people, so if I can feel it, it must be very very bad.
Lochlan said the same reminders tonight, as Ben gently yelled at me to go to bed already, that there's no honor in suffering by trying to stay awake.
He's right. I'm going.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Now with extra noodles.
Ben took me out today for some shopping, and then a little more shopping, and then some window shopping. We went to the ever-popular ramen place that I fell in love with when I got here, for their deliriously good akaoni with bean sprouts, and then we did a little more shopping before finally getting the Christmas tree and bringing it to the school to pick up the kids.
Ben's so unconventional. I would tell you how unconventional but I'm pretty sure you can figure it out. He's awesome like that.
Sadly, I was on Robson Street a mere two hours before Katie Holmes went shopping there. I would have loved to have met her. Ben made some comment about how he would love to eat her. You can take that any way you want, just remember, he eats everything. He's already taken a bite of the Christmas tree.
He said it was delicious.
Ben's so unconventional. I would tell you how unconventional but I'm pretty sure you can figure it out. He's awesome like that.
Sadly, I was on Robson Street a mere two hours before Katie Holmes went shopping there. I would have loved to have met her. Ben made some comment about how he would love to eat her. You can take that any way you want, just remember, he eats everything. He's already taken a bite of the Christmas tree.
He said it was delicious.
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,The whisper-war this afternoon was quashed by Lochlan, who leveled a stunning reminder to Caleb that it was just fine if Ruthie wanted to wear her favorite uh..very casual shirt to her Christmas concert. She's almost twelve. She needs to make decisions like this. She needs to be considered for input into her own life.
Rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
Come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!
Snort.
I will be DAMNED if I let Lochlan and Caleb spend the next thirty years debating every single thing she ever does but it was nice to see one of them refuse to take it any further, opting to not engage in negative energy. Especially today.
I love hearing the children sing and dance their way through performances. I love the fact that they've made new, close friends and have fun at their new school. It's a safe place. It's a good place. Ruth played with the school band as well, so we were treated to multiple performances and both Ruth and Henry came home exhausted and elated.
I love to watch Caleb's face as he goes in expecting to add more fuel to his private-boarding-school fire and comes away with a renewed understanding of just how perfect it is for the children here because this school was chosen carefully. So carefully that the house was an afterthought, a stroke of pure luck as we chose to do things backwards on purpose.
So far so good, hey?
Speaking of backwards, Ben is off for the holidays and taking his own monstrously beautiful time to decompress. We spent a good hour at the post office today, attempting to fit all of the boxes my family sent into the car. Three tries, it took.
You would drive a tiny car around over a big truck if your gas cost $1.36 a litre as well, and frankly my trunk is a little crowded for winter. I have a shovel, a snow brush/scraper, jumper cables, kitty litter, granola bars, bungee cords, the big x-jack for actually changing a tire, over the stupid j-shaped thing that came with the car, and the cloth bags I use for grocery shopping, since I mostly forget them unless I keep them in the car.
Did I mention my car is tiny? Who cares? It has almost three hundred horsepower and really you're still marveling that people might willingly pay that for gas, aren't you?
I figured. It's okay.
Anyway, we dropped off the boxes and went back out and had lunch at KFC. For some reason vacation=chicken to Ben or maybe it's just comfort/reward food so since he's mentioned it three times in three weeks, off we went today. I had a big crunch sandwich and almost had to spend the afternoon trying to fit MYSELF into the car. If you don't know the big crunch story then I should probably tell it. When I was pregnant with Ruth I lived on big crunch sandwiches, mostly because they were one of the very few food items I could keep down. (Here is not the part where I do not tell you how many pounds I gained during that pregnancy because dear lord no one needs to hear that, now, do they?)
Let's just say it all turned out fine. I watched my little girl and my little boy (a worse pregnancy by FAR, made better only by orange juice) sing their guts out this afternoon and I figure the children got all of their talent from the chickens and the oranges because they put the rest of us to shame.
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