Bear sighting #18 occured late this afternoon when we ventured halfway up the hill to a field where we like to fly kites and walk. He was on the opposite hill having some raspberries and he didn't seem all that perturbed to have company until we laughed a little too loudly and he went booking straight across the field and into the trees below us. For a moment I thought we were going to have to make a break for the road but I wasn't all that worried, he was quite small and mom was nowhere near our side of the meadow. I'm guessing she would have been watching from the line of trees as we infringed on dinner time.

Four star daydream (the replacements).

(This worry is completely unrelated to oh..everything else. But it's here nonetheless and someone who turned out to be completely unqualified told me once that I should write down my worries so that I might let them go. Instead it highlighted them and now they fester and burn.)

Lochlan is in a much better mood today.

He has allowed his brain to melt all over the inside of his skull and he isn't expending much energy on anything other than softly teasing me. He came to find me when he got home from his meeting. It seems weird to see Lochlan going to meetings but that's how he gets paid. He goes off in the one suit he owns (a medium-brown linen that goes well with his red hair) and then comes back and finds me to show me his cheques, direct from Batman, who would rather expend the energy to do absolutely everything in person instead of doing everything the easy way with the technology at hand. Though it seems to me the wealthiest among us share that trait of being so old-fashioned in business. Huh.

Today we sat out front weeding the gardens just because I wanted fifteen minutes of sun to help even out my Neapolitan tan. Loch unbuttoned his shirt three buttons down because he is choking in the heat. The jacket he has already abandoned, tossed overhand to land on the porch railing up above us.

You think you'll have any parts that match any time soon? His eyes are twinkling. He's looking rested, in spite of the unease he carries about living in such close proximity to Caleb. He hasn't touched a drop of alcohol for a little while now as he attempts to find better ways to manage the tension aside from drowning it. He's made some amazing changes. I'm not sure all of them are good so I give him my worried, silent eyes instead of what he is seeking, a gentle comeback.

I pass him back the two cheques he held out to me only after registering a practiced blank expression to conceal my stunned surprise. He is working for far more than I realized and the stakes have just become that much greater with the addition of the extra digits. It's all coming back now.

Don't, Bridgie. It's not the same thing.

I was there, remember? I don't know if you're aligning with the right stars, here, Locket.

The only people I align with are you and Ben and the kids.

Then give up the curse of doing commissions for Batman's contacts.

The money is too good. I'll work the run and when it's over it's over.

He said the exact same thing to me in 1985 and so I wait. He presses his forehead against mine and keeps his eyes locked on me. I try to look anywhere but directly at him but fail. I start to laugh but sob at the same time. Just quietly, just once and he reaches out and pulls me in close.

I'm not doing anything but trying to make a little money while I can, peanut. I'm getting old. It's about time I had a proper savings account. I have a daughter going to college like...tomorrow, it seems. Jesus Christ.

I can give you money.

I don't want the Devil's money.

Then I'll get some from Ben.

No, everything is okay. This will be for us. I'm using Batman, that's all. He's got the connections and maybe Cole knew exactly what he was doing.

Cole got eaten alive by their attention and it went to his head. His ego exploded. He became someone els-

I'm not going to ever be anyone but me. I promise you that. I'm just a loser with a paintbrush.

He said the same thing once.

I'm not Cole, peanut.

He stiffens and I can't breathe, his arms are so tight. I tuck my head under his jaw, wiping my nose on his shirt. You will be.

Never. He whispers it and brings up his hand to hold my head pressed hard against his chest. Not in a million years. Not for anything.

Finding my bearings, he calls it. I love that.

Oh, and since I got rid of Twitter, I suppose you want to know that I am up to bear sighting #17.

She comes to the yard just outside my bedroom window every night around midnight now. The blackberries aren't quite ready yet. She's eaten all the cherries. She ate the garbage that PJ left outside the garage in error, bringing her two cubs out to the driveway with her that night. We were enthralled.

I don't want her to touch the grapes in the vineyard and the orchard doesn't make any apples anymore and so we stare at each other in the dark now, our stomachs growling in unison, our fear of each other keeping us rooted in our respective places.

She is so huge and quiet. I would not stand a chance.

She needs a name.

Tin Roof Triad.

From both sides wherever you come from
Re-arranging all the time
From both sides whoever is listening
This kills light, dissolves our minds

When you wake is everyone dreaming?
When you wake you waste away
Heaven says that you are a sinner
So go back down you can't come in

Today I have been recruited to help Lochlan with some of the bigger man-chores around the house. Which will mostly consist of me holding hammers or his phone while he takes care of some things that need to be done.

But first I must stand in one place while he bastes me with sunscreen. Because, you know, I'm a child. I offer to do the same for his but he is clipped and brusque. Already done, he says as he turns away and I roll my eyes so high that when they land on the ground again I see that he is staring at me. His expression says he wants to laugh but his mood keeps a lid on it.

So I stand in the blazing sun holding a handful of nails. And then the hose. And then a damp cloth for his hands when he's done with the paint. And then his phone when he finally heads to the garage to put it all away.

Caleb is standing in front of the garage door. He greets Lochlan in a civilized fashion and Lochlan just stops and stares at him. I watch Lochlan's hands. He has shipworker hands, carny hands, hands that are strong and judgmental and quick.

I watch Caleb's face and his medium blue eyes, freshly-shaven jawline, recent haircut and overpriced t-shirt with his white-collar, executive, manicured hands that he hardly ever gets dirty. The difference between the two men is day and night.

And none of this matters because of Ben. He is the meat and they can be the bread only they all seem to want me in the middle. So I'm the meat. But I like open-faced sandwiches. Or something. I've lost my train of thought now.

I ask Lochlan to hurry so we can make ice cream. Again. Because I still feel some sort of need to embrace the heat wave while we have it. I am pink and brown and red and beige now from the sun. I tan in little bits and pieces and I look a little silly in a dress with my ten-yr-old girl brand of farmer's tan and my sunburned cheeks but I'm making a wonderful effort to blend all these different shades because I hardly ever tan and I'm making an effort to not wear shoes unless absolutely necessary and to drink lemonade and admire the flowers that are blooming and watch the children jump into the water and I'm still driving with the windows down and barbecuing everything BUT the ice cream and it is fleeting somehow, temporary, with the relief of a damp dark fall pushing in close behind. It will be too soon. It's always too soon.

Do you have enough for three? Caleb's question breaks into my reverie and Lochlan says We don't but you can go to the store to get some just as I say Of course we do and I glare at Lochlan as he glares at me and I don't have to remind him I'm going to ignore Caleb's threats just like I'm going to ignore everything else Caleb says that isn't related to Henry because I made a promise to both Ben and Lochlan that I would watch myself and I made myself a promise that I would watch Caleb.

So there.

Ice cream for everyone.

But no meat.

Interstellar medium

I know what I want. I've had a whole lot of scotch and I'm looking for a fight.

Come in, Bridget. We can talk. You want to make some coffee?

No. I'm good. Well, actually I'm not but no, no coffee.

What can I do to help? Caleb says it so generously, as if he's doing me a favor. His anticipation is ridiculous.

Take yourself out of my equation. I broke up with you, I want you to honor that.

Honor it how?

No pressure. No terms, no offers, no play, no competition, no weirdness. No more fucking envelopes. No weapons. No guilt, no threats. No sweetness. No charm. Nothing. We co-parent. That's it. You get no say in my life, my decisions, my behavior or my plans. You get no access to me.

Anything else? He is frowning at me. I think I caught him off guard, actually, and now my liquid courage is fading faster than a sunset over the horizon and I suddenly find myself at a loss for words.

If I think of anything, I'll let you know. Do we have an agreement? You promised me anything I wanted.

Do we have an agreement? No, Bridget, we don't have an agreement. I can give you anything but that.

More caveats.

Damned right. Did you think you would pull that off?

Yes.

Would you have been happy?

I don't know.

Exactly. Go get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.

I won't be allowed.

You let me worry about that.

No, see? That's precisely my point! You're not supposed to be able to do that.

Goodnight, princess.

Fuck you, asshole.

Hey. Watch your sweet mouth or I'll watch it for you.

Wow. You sounded just like Cole there for a minute.

Just enough to keep you.

Too bad he's dead.

You'd better go, Bridget. Quickly.

I'd rather fight.

I'm not fighting with you. Go the fuck back to the house and sleep off whatever you've had and don't pull stunts like this any more.

Or what?

Or I'll stop being honest and go back to being evil.

You know something? I can't tell the difference anyway.

Wishful thinkers and the long way around.

You seem to be in better spirits today.

I'm catching up. I find the change in routines tough.

You've always been so adaptable, I don't know anyone who weathers changes better than you.

I roll my eyes since my head is turned away from him. I'm watering the roses while he stands two feet behind me, mostly likely with his hands in his pockets, still in pressed business casual because he had a meeting this morning. I stayed in bed, listening to Caleb's car purr out of the shared driveway, and then listening to the one on my right exhale all of his tension out in one breath. My eyes were heavy and I closed them against the sun but not before a ten-thousand-degree kiss glanced off my temple. If ever there were a boy to match with a season, Lochlan wins summer hands down. He doesn't mind the heat, he hardly notices it. I am reduced to ice and a sheet and a complaint that drops off my lower lip only after I have succumbed to sweet miserable slumber.

But I couldn't stay asleep. I want to wander around soaking up the sun and sorting out my brain. I want to think soft and daydream up new stories to write and learn how to live in the moment instead of in the hope for the future, riddled with holes and treacherous sections and the ever-present Fear of the Unknown. The sunshine helps push that back, always. The light makes everything better, food, lazy early morning sleep, and time.

I turn finally, since Caleb seems to be waiting for something. He is standing with his hands in his pockets, in one of his summerweight bespoke suits, and he is smiling at me.

Don't roll your eyes, princess. I only know what I see. Where is everyone?

Sleeping.

He rolls his eyes, catching himself and laughs. You're such a morning person.

I nod. I'm still waiting, holding the hose, wondering what he wants.

What's wrong, Bridget?

Oh, honesty, right. You said things would be difficult for me, if you came back early. You're back early. What should I expect?

His eyes flash. Composure may come easily but control is fought for, to the death. I see this and remind him of his pledge toward honesty as well. He flushes ever so slightly and to my surprise, he gives in.

Difficult for you in that I will apply pressure.

Do you really have to be so formal all the time?

You seem far more comfortable this way.

Ah. I see. So...pressure.

Pressure. Blunt and to the point.

Okay then. I wait for more but he stops talking. This is crystal-clear. Um. Have a nice morning. I give him one of my fakest fake smiles and gather up the hose to return to the reel around the side of the house.

When I come back he's gone.

(Determined.)

Mondays are strange.

Today the children and I tried to find the extraordinary in the mundane. A simple drive down the same road we always travel found us slowing to a stop in order for a baby bear to get from one side of the road to the other and down into the cool woods to outrun the heat of the morning. A snap decision after the bear disappeared into the trees to turn off the air conditioning in the car and open all the windows instead. Summer rushed in and filled our souls.

At the pool we lingered forever after swim lessons, for just one more run and jump off the diving board, towels and flip-flops soaked with chlorine, clothes damp for the ride home, again with the windows down all the way, a hearty fuck-you to the extreme sudden heat that we wished for and when it arrived we found ourselves unprepared for company and scrambling to be good hosts.

And I did that thing again where I smiled out of the blue and for no reason at all as I ate a spoonful of ice cream straight from the box and I realized my feet were filthy and my hair wasn't much better and I forgot things like bedtimes and regular all-food-groups dinners in favor of barbecued everything and a handful of potato chips on the side, and the smile was thoroughly contagious, spreading like wildfire through the remainder of the day.

The naked Saturday.

Ben holds a bit of a knack for knowing when to swoop in and take back control. Very late Friday night he came in with a few extra grocery items and a very crabby and unhelpful Daniel (our sometimes third child) and he said we were going out for dinner, just me and him.

And that we would come back on Sunday.

And then he smiled in that very Ben-like way he has and my knees melted all over the floor and I had to hold on to his hand or I might have fallen down because he's ridiculously scary-handsome and sweet and I'm a sucker for his particular brand of attention.

But I'm a stickler for surprise trips that I have no time to mentally prepare for and always leery of what he packs for me to wear but after minimal protest I hugged my children fiercely as they slept and whispered to them to be good and off we went.

I thought Ben was heading to the airport but he drove straight downtown and we went up up up into the sky in an elevator that did not make me so happy but he smiled and kissed the back of my hand and told me he could break out of the elavator if necessary and that I should exhale, maybe, if I felt like it. When we got to our room and I saw the view I was more than a little thrilled to breathe out because it was literally breathtaking.

Ben then admitted that he packed no clothes for me at all and that I was to spend the weekend naked, and that what I had on would be cleaned and returned in time for the drive home.

He ordered a pizza and a stack of horror movies and we ate in bed in front of a giant retractable screen and we made up our own plot twists and filled in dialogue we thought might be more fun as we watched the movies and then when I couldn't keep my eyes open any more he turned off all the lights and my breath disappeared again for the magical view of the lights on the water in the darkness. I could lie there all night in his arms and watch that view like a movie and there was nothing stopping me but true to form I was asleep in just shy of fifteen seconds.

Yesterday we did not get out of bed. At all. He arranged for room service and I was not permitted to put my feet on the floor. Fine by me. I pointed vaguely at menu items and he laughed and ordered everything and we watched two more movies but slept most of the day in the twelve-thousand thread count Egyptian sheets, ignoring the outstandingly gorgeous sunny view.

I woke up this morning rested but with a little bit of a headache ( from the lack of my usual early coffee). Ben was still sleeping. Check out was at eleven. I didn't think we'd make it but that was okay too. I called the front desk and they told me whenever we were ready it would be fine and not to worry. So I went back to sleep, right after I ate all of the french toast and hot chocolate they delivered. Including Ben's.

We wound up checking out shortly after twelve and had to stop for breakfast for him on the way back because he was starving. But he's rested. And he's silly. And boy do we ever travel lightly these days. Instead of coming home to a mountain of travel laundry we had virtually nothing to unpack.

I could get used to that.

The good fascist.

Here goes.

Firstly, a squee-moment. Stephen King's next book, Doctor Sleep, picks up with Danny Torrance as an adult and comes out this winter. I could just burst from waiting. I'm also so incredibly slow with wading through websites and emails trying to keep up with the things I like and I read a very select few authors anymore so maybe you already knew and I did not.

And speaking of books, have you read the Fifty Shades trilogy?

I've really hesitated to bring this up but for those asking me if I wrote it? No, I did not. Yes, I said Jacob was so many shades of grey. For fuck's sakes I said it here four or five times (okay so that's enough examples) over the past few years, for it isn't an uncommon phrase. Also, hey! Christian Grey? Caleb? Hmmm!

Let's not start in, shall we?

Best of luck to E.L. James, however. Her depiction of the character of Christian Grey was positively RIVETING, repetition and awkward phrasing aside and yes, it was incredibly familiar and therefore a tiny bit painful. I sat in one place for two nights and read all three books and I count them among my favorites now, in spite of the parallels to persons living and dead. Gold. Absolute trashy-beach-reading GOLD. Happily ever after is always a good read, isn't it?

Secondly, a boo-moment. One of the caveats of Caleb's latest acquisition (the house next door) was that I give up Twitter and Instagram. Privacy is paramount in our extended family here and I was sort of off-leash online and running for the fence, getting my digs in about him on Twitter and sometimes posting pictures on Instagram that were not pre-approved.

I know, God Forbid.

In any case, I acquiesced and both of my accounts are gone. My apologies if you were enjoying either. If you need to connect with me you'll have to do it through this site because it's the one thing I do that is non-negotiable and while I make every effort to spare the public humiliation of those I love, I don't believe in mincing words. It took me a long time to stop sugar-coating my relationships for public consumption, I don't plan to start again. But I did break the rules and I had to pay the price. I deleted everything this weekend. No, they won't be rebooted later on. I simply should have known better and I learned my lesson.

Any more questions can be directed as always to my email. You can find it by clicking on the Profile section on the left-hand side of the page. Don't come yelling about feminism or masochism, okay? I love to meet new readers, but I don't like to be yelled at. I guess that part is pretty obvious.

Onward and upward.

With the staggers and jags.

This is not for you, it's for me.

Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I am far away on your briny ocean tossed
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?

(But mostly because I'm tired and August has just arrived home (finally!!) after many delays, detours and distractions from the East Coast and I'm jealous and so sometimes I need to hear it to remember that home is what I surround myself with when I can't surround myself with the Atlantic, literally or figuratively.)

A bonus song for you, you'll know and love it if you're from the Maritimes:



Goodnight.