Twice a day, every day.

There's nothing better than five victories for a rainy Friday morning. The world looks normal again, dim and soaked through, rich in petrichor. My favorite. It looks downright strange here when it's sunny or when it snows, for that matter. Like the words don't fit the picture. It's almost a relief when it rains again which I'd never thought I'd hear myself say.

So I wrote it down instead.

The five victories are small but mighty. The new single is beautiful. I had the laundry done and all of the bathrooms cleaned before nine this morning. Decapitated had all the charges dropped, mainly because their accuser had a previous incident in which she lied to law enforcement about being hit by a boyfriend, or so I read online this morning (don't even get me started about groupies and tour busses), I managed to bang out a full sixty percent of my biggest project yesterday alone, somehow, I don't how but I'm very happy with it, and I figured out what was hurting my gums so much on one side, after switching to a soft toothbrush and flossing like a madwoman, feeling like there was coconut? maybe from a chocolate but this morning I was like okay, this is it. I flossed very enthusiastically and a tiny piece of hull from popcorn came out of hiding. A piece of hull that doesn't break down and the last time I had popcorn was for Star Wars on Dec. 16.

That's three weeks. What the fuck. It didn't really start to bother me until about four days ago and I'm never having popcorn again. Ever. Henry can finish the last bit in the pantry. I'm not buying it, eating it or suffering it ever again. Not like it's good for us anyway.

Speaking of healthy things, people are always asking me if we have a home gym.

We used to, in castle times. It was mostly an unused room with an elliptical and a giant Weber (Nordic?) gym thing that you could do eighty million exercises on with pulleys and weights and stuff. I used it. Jake used it. The kids used it as a jungle gym. Ben used it to show us how dumb it actually was.

Then we gave it all away in favor of fresh air. Who needs to be inside when the coldest it ever gets here is minus ten?

So we go outside. The boys have endless means to get exercise. They shove each other. They swim back to shore after being thrown off the cliff. They stairclimb. They follow me around. They wrestle. They...uh...box. We run sometimes. Sex is a good means of exercise, bring your friends and everyone gets healthy, right? We also have house chores like raking leaves, chopping wood and hell if you've run out of easy things there's a unicycle in the garage that is incredibly difficult to ride and possibly a better core workout than anything else.

I must have had fifty emails asking me about resolutions this year, what I do to stay in shape (jesus, can't you READ?), if I plan to improve myself, etc. etc. and really this is where the popcorn comes in. I have a problem with sugar but also with popcorn because I'll eat popcorn to stay awake during movies because they're long and warm and it's dark and these are the perfect conditions for narcoleptic Bridget to pass out cold and miss everything.

But I don't eat healthy air-popped organic whatever, I'll take what PJ or Ben didn't want which is usually greasy, nuclear extra-buttered cardboard.

It's so delicious. I'll eat it until it's gone and then I get that bird-at-a-wedding feeling like I might explode.

So I'm going to do better in 2018, mostly because I didn't want to have to go to the dentist. I hate the dentist, and not because I'm afraid but because this dentist is a business based on profit instead of health and I resent that I have to research and question every little thing.
I should switch but what a pain. Actually I feel like I have to stay to guard the others against the same tactics they try on me. Long story. Anyway. It's a day of small victories and that's what's important.

(Really though, I'm trying hard not to laugh at the people who profess to be longtime readers who ask me how I stay in shape. You must have Black Mirror's Arkangel filters on your eyeballs, I guess.)

Wait! I forgot the weirdest victory of all. Which was finding out after wearing it for TWO whole years that my Cirque Du Soleil sweater has pockets.

Hallelujah.

Edit: Also I learned all these years when I've been chewing on pencils to get the weird shivery spark feeling in my head and to make the pencil ferrules flat as pancakes I was just acknowledging my future self who would get spoiled on Christmas 2017 with a fistful of Blackwing Palomino pencils, which have a distinct flattened ferrule already and are too expensive and beautiful to chew on anyway.  God I love these things and aren't you glad someone suggested I just dump the contents of my brain all over blogger today?

Yeah, I'm just killing time before dinner because someone said there might be chopsticks involved. HELL YEAH.

Sublimity all around me.

Day is reborn
Fight with folded hands
Pain left below
The life-

And I can't figure out the rest.

EDIT: GOT IT!

The lifeless live again

(Red cold river)

 I can't feel anything at all
This life has left me cold and damp
I can't feel anything at all
This love has led me to the end

Ears. They're somewhat broken but just enough to frustrate me. Whoops.

(Also shhhhhh. There's a chorus for you. You're welcome.)

But WHO CARES? New Breaking Benjamin single out tomorrow and the teasers sound incredible and I want to cry for all of the weird emotions that bubble up within. It's the same feeling I get when I listen to Pachebel or Shostakovich or...the new Bladerunner soundtrack. I don't even want to explain it but it's incredible. Like a whole-body orgasm.

Listen to this (Chaconne in F Minor) the whole way through UP VERY LOUDLY and tell me you don't feel something. 

Who the hell is going to deny themselves that?

Not me, said the little deaf girl in the corner.

(PS. That's my absolute favourite piece. Especially from about 6:20 to around 7:00 minutes in. Want another recommendation? Seriously. Listen to Winter or Blue by Oceans of Slumber. They have a new album coming in March and I'm salivating just waiting for it.)

Actually I'm not in the corner today. Today I may have turned a corner though I'm threatened back into at any moment and have to keep fighting not to give in. Things are okay with a twenty-percent chance of dread which seems high but actually isn't. I have an appointment next week that's weighing on me and I have to start booking the vehicles for their quarterly servicings, which is a chore I despise but one the boys will put off until before you know it they've missed three in a row and it threatens warranties and makes me somewhat irritated so I do it myself. That's minor though. I can do that. The first thing is just...a WEIGHT.

And I have to mop. I hate that. Pretty sure I could promise/trade sexual favours for someone else doing it but I should probably just do it myself.

And I need to finish two fairly large projects I have on the go but that corner. It just looks so warm and inviting and I could put myself back in there and listen to this song snippet on a loop and gosh, I hope it's not a fucking Spotify exclusive or anything. I don't believe in Spotify on principal. It's the Amazon of the music world, delivering little profits to the creators of the content Spotify gets rich off of. And don't get me started on 'renting' your music.

But I'm not here to talk politics, no sir. I'm here to entertain.

I'm not even here to entertain today. I only do that for money. I used to do it for fame but then I realized money was better. And it feels weird to have such a normal life with such normal things happening. An oil change or five. A trip to the bank. A trip to the hospital. A big chore, job well done. A new song to listen to. A very old song to listen to. Such a far cry from the lights and the danger and the excitement of the show. Now the show is a cold empty beach and the blocked-out noise of the world and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Metalhead.

Today I'm thinking over how Black Mirror went down. How the stories are structured, like all good stories are, in that some start you at the very beginning, holding your hand, walking you through the major points to an eventual conclusion that wraps everything up neatly with a bow while others drop you violently into the action without apology or explanation and then leave you wondering, feeling as if you really enjoyed the ride, you just have little idea what started it or how it's all going to turn out. 

I like both formats very much, though I also feel as if when I write I give too much information up front and I'm working on getting better at this. 

Slowly. 

It's a great watch if you love to be tense and uncomfortable, viceral in your hatred of a fictional character or several and don't mind a lack of closure, here and there. Really great. 

(If you really want to know Crocodile is my favorite episode. Metalhead actually clocks in at number three.)

I'm also thinking about how Coco went down, because we watched that over the weekend too, and it's probably the first and last time I'll sit through a movie starring Gael García Bernal without being keenly aware of him (sorry, but he's beautiful. Watch The Motorcycle Diaries) since I didn't know it was his voice until the credits. Pixar never fails to disappoint and I was strangely elated to confirm that people are right, it's nothing like Book Of Life. 

There, two things for you to do while I try and swim out of my Monday quicksand. Especially since it's actually Wednesday. 

Sneaking in to breathe a sigh of relief.

This Christmas they got along. We didn't get thrown out of any restaurants for infighting, they didn't throw any surprise haymakers at one another and I didn't end up being the rope in a lifelong tug of war, somehow. They got along.

We had more meals together as a complete Collective than any other time in our history. There were surprise days off taken and surprise work taken over to get it done faster and better if more hands were in on it.

We had a good time. We celebrated Christmas and New Years, Solstice and Hanukkah too. We got a little sleep but never enough and we go into the rest of this week on a new yet familiar ground without impossible resolutions but simply plans to be better, try harder and do more and less all at once.

We ran out of Champagne with no plans to have any more as it was a slow build to popping corks off the ceiling Sunday night and gently smashing the rims of our glasses together in cries of Sláinte! and Cheers! that took almost to 12:02 to get that first sip.

But here we are and I didn't even hesitate the first time I wrote 2018. It rolls off so easily and I hope that means a year of good things.

We got the trees down and the decorations down. Everything outside stays up and lit. I'm in no rush to change that. There's a mugful of candy canes on the counter with which to stir hot chocolate until they're gone and the days are getting longer already.

Hello 2018.

Happy New Year! I'm starting my day with bulletproof coffee, eggs Benedict and a beautiful sunny day here on the Salish Sea. I woke up clear-headed and energetic and we've already watered the plants, finished the laundry, given the dog a bath (he. smells. so. good.) and been out for brunch, at a place that was sort of eerily empty considering the holiday, but delicious nonetheless.

Lochlan is also bright-eyed and bushy-haired.  We're going to finish watching the new Season of Black Mirror now and then plot dinner plans because I'm thinking spaghetti would be a wonderful first meal of the year. Everyone is up and it feels more like Easter and less like New Years, probably because the rain took away the remainder of the snow from our neighborhood and everything dried out and I can actually handle winters if they're only going to be a week or two long, I think.

What's gotten into you, Peanut? 

SUNSHINE.

I like it.

Yeah, me too!

NYE

I took down the other post. Too personal, even for me. Too self-depricating, too sad for a beautiful day. Instead I've decided to just keep my resolutions simple.

I'll keep my boundaries, be kinder to myself, paint more, write more and eat a lot better, if I can. I'll drink less, get more accomplished and focus on the blessings instead of the curses, which is not something I come by naturally but is definitely something I can work on.

Weirdly formal, formally weird.

Now that the laptop is fixed (thank you Lochlan!), the ramen cravings have been satisfied, the main floor is vacuumed, laundry, errands, recycling and garbage is caught up, sundry decorations are all put away (trees and lights are still up) and Ruth's room looks more apartment, less bedroom (massive rearranging), I can relax.

Long day that started late and I'm not a huge fan of vacuuming at eight o'clock at night but I had to pull everything out of the front hall closet in order to fit a second shoe rack in there because there are too many shoes and it's getting ridiculous and with boots too for the snow it's beyond unorganized. I didn't realize how much until I got back into the truck to come home from lunch and saw that I had one black and one brown Doc Marten boot on. Oh great. Hope Ruth didn't plan on wearing hers because I have her left. Whoops.

So another rack and everything has a place now, but there was also a months worth of dried leaves in the closet. And a dog gate. And a scooter that's too small for anyone but me to ride and I don't want to ride it. And a baseboard from the castle in the Prairies but don't ask about that. Or maybe I've mentioned it. I don't remember.

Everything has a place now. Even the baseboard.

So I sit down with a drink (vodka and coke. The Russians left a huge bottle of Stoli as part of our gift and it doesn't fit in any cupboards. It's weirdly tall and thin and so we..drank it. Because I'm too classy to leave a bottle of alcohol sitting out or standing in the pantry but I'm not classy enough to save it or give it away.) and guess who comes strolling into the kitchen?

The Devil.

Who immediately decides he doesn't have to abide by the spoken rule that New Years Eve is off limits and invites me to go out with him. On a date. Dressed up. On a borrowed yacht. All the monte cristos and champagne my little busted heart desires. Fireworks. A clear cold night. Cuddles. New resolutions, made on the water I was born on, fused in salt, carved in the stones at the bottom of the sea.

I pick up the bottle and just drink straight from it because that sounds like a GREAT time and frankly I can be bought (but not by the Russians, because I sent back most of their gift to me with a lovely note explaining that I can only wear jewelry if it's from my husband and of course they understand but Fabergé is beautiful indeed and I'm very touched that they thought of me and to take care. In reality I'm peeing myself with fright because they might be offended) but Lochlan can't and his idea of New Years Eve is a roaring fire and snuggles and sleeping early and easily, maybe a whiskey, probably a meat pie and some cake and I'm sure there will be flannel involved and right up until Caleb said Fireworks on the water I thought the flannel + fire would be the best thing ever but..

Wait. It still is. It always will be. I've done both and the fire in the hearth wins every time.

Thank you but as I said I already have plans. 

Bring him. 

It's not a threesome kind of night. I burst out laughing. God. I'm an asshole.

You could change your plans. Or we could do a bit of both plans. 

Caleb-

Just tell me what you want to do. 

I did. And I'm sorry but you're not invited. (I'm touched that you thought of me and take care but please oh please don't be offended.) I'll see you later this week maybe. We can do something fun then. 

I don't want to be alone. His face. Oh my God, his face. Guilt renders me desperate.

Catch a flight home? 

Too late.

See what Ben is up to? 

He stares at me.

Batman is watching all the Star Wars. I think a few of the guys are joining him. Beers and pizza. We might even stop in. 

I want to ring in the New Year with you. Neamhchiontach. Please. 

I'm sorry. 

What will it take to change your mind? 

I take his hands and he covers mine with his while he waits for me to speak. Nothing. I'm sorry. You agreed readily to the plans we made this holiday and even with regret I'm not changing them. I'm looking forward to a quiet night with Lochlan, I'm in need of sleep and less stress and I'm not going to fight about this. I draw a line in the air with my mind. A very rare and precious boundary. And it holds.

New Years Day. Can I treat you to a late brunch? Like last year? So I can look forward to the morning?

Yes. 

Just you. 

Sure. 

Okay. I'll see you before the evening though so I'm not going to wish you a Happy New Year quite yet. 

Of course. 

This is Sam's doing? These..boundaries?

August's. 

Holding your ground? 

Yes. My resolutions are finally set. I'll tell you a few on Monday at brunch. 

Can't wait to hear them. 

I can't wait to try and make them stick. Hey. Speaking of which, what are yours? 

I'll tell you on Monday too. He smiles, just not with his eyes.

I'm not doing anything right now if you want to watch something with me. A movie or something? 

I'd like that. His eyes finally smile too.  Mind if I pour a drink? 

Be my guest.

Here's to the radical reformation of the sixteenth century! (And other stories for a rainy Friday afternoon.)

Annnnnnd back to Chrome, which half-loads every webpage and eats the other half and mostly doesn't quite work but Lochlan won't fix it.

In my next life I'll be a luddite. A pilgrim. An Amish..person. A Hutterite. I can bake and build and sew worth my salt. Technology? Fucking hell. I don't know my iOS from my elbow. I put a new hard drive in this machine on a dare but now I can't update to High Sierra. I can't turn off the updates though so every morning I hit a button that says "Try Tomorrow".

Indeed. Think I will.

This machine unexpectedly turns itself off every half hour or so. But I love this Macbook. It's eight years old now. Kind of like me, emotionally only this thing has no emotions, it's just cruel. But it's a lifeline in a strange way. All my words are in it. Well, the ones that aren't in my brain, I mean and after spending half a day trying to fix it I'm stuck leaving it the way it is. I just don't know.

I don't know how to fix it, I don't know what's wrong with it. I don't know what I'm doing and at this rate in about a week I'll be one of the little old ladies at the Apple store tables learning how to download an app or check my battery life. Not even kidding.

I can turn off lights with my mind though. Explain THAT.

Update: Lochlan finally took a look at it. Maybe he felt sorry for me, more likely he's worried I might figure out what else I can do with my mind, as I clearly haven't unlocked my special powers yet in any meaningful way, but like my rare anger, God help us all when I do.

But I have bad RAM as it turns out, and so we're going to get a couple of new sticks and get the inside of my laptop all cleaned out and it's like he found his patience again or maybe he was just that impressed that I invoked a wish to join the groups that eschew technology and never asked him for help. It's a Christmas miracle.

I know. You love it when I whine about my laptop.

(Sorry)

Records were meant to be broken, just like prayers are meant to be heard.

I've been trying to write my resolutions but I can't seem to get anywhere. I don't have to show them to anyone, don't have to read them out loud, don't even have to adhere to them if I chose not to but I've been putting off writing them the same way I put off going out this morning. We needed gas for the truck, needed groceries for the house (I hadn't been food shopping since the 19th if you can even believe it and we were out of everything), needed cash from the bank and had to drop off a chair that we were getting rid of.

I just can't seem to get moving. Life seems to be a slow-motion quicksand. It's just the time of year, that dark period right after the first day of winter when you don't observe the days getting shorter again quite yet and it's cold and dark seemingly all the time. I can't tell this to August or he'll drag out the SAD light and park me in front of it for days even as I tell him: It's just that time of year. He knows it. The fuss and excitement of Christmas comes to a squealing, grinding halt and you stare down the inevitability of a new year and all of the expectations it brings. Dancing? Champagne? Wool pajamas and a roaring fire? Skating on the pond? Board games and pizza? This ties in with those pesky resolutions. Should they be deep or shallow? Thick or thin? Obvious or profound? Maybe a little bit of everything? Maybe nothing at all.

Maybe they should be what I want them to be. Maybe they should just be what they already are to me: half unobtainable bucket list and half flighty bullshit promises. PJ said to write down the first things that come to mind. Sam tells me to keep a list that will make me into the best person I can be. Caleb says to shoot for the moon.  Lochlan says to be good.

Why again am I doing this?

Lochlan wrote another poem about my reluctance to celebrate New Years. Enjoy.

The new year comes knocking
So fast and so loud
She holds to the old one
So stubborn, so proud

It begs her attention
"So shiny! So new!"
She scowls with her mouth
"As if that will do!"

"I'll cling to the old one! 
I'll keep it right here! 
One thing is always easier than the unknown
and that's fear! 

So take away your new things 
your loud 'Auld Lang Syne'
I'll be right here
I'll be perfectly fine!"

Dear Peanut, it's coming
Whether you like it or not
So unclench your fingers
There's no strength you've got

To stay mired in the past
When you could come see what's new
I promise you'll like it
We'll be waiting for you.