Funny, White Nights was also that Taylor Hackford film I adored when I was thirteen and still didn't get loyalty or romance, for that matter.

A breakfast date with the Devil in which he arranges a seaside picnic meal of eggs benedict, caviar and mimosas , coffee and chocolate croissants  followed by a trip to get the good Russian watercolours and a few other odds and ends and I've been happily painting in my studio ever since. I fell in love with the St. Petersburg sticky, messy watercolours a while ago but have only had a couple of pans. Usually I use Japanese watercolours but I prefer the behaviour of the Russian. English paints are now a close third but not that different from the Japanese ones, even in price. This will keep me busy through summer. 

I forgot to buy a smaller drawing board as I tend to sit up on my knees on a high stool with the paper taped to the board. The board itself is 25x23" and I end up with the paint, water jar, rags and brushes balancing on the board too because there's never room left on the table otherwise and I need something a little less unwieldy, though this served its purpose nicely. Big format is not my favorite. I like everything pocket-sized. The smallest board I can find is 11x17" but I want to see them in person so I will wait til the next trip, though walking into an art supply store with Caleb is almost orgasmicly awful, as I will express interest in something and he'll take it in hand and if I protest he says he wants to try it, and then he gives it to me when we get home. So I have to walk and look so carefully. He means well, of course. 

Yes, he paints. His style is so perfect and refined, I am jealous. I paint like someone has taped a brush to an expelling helium balloon. I get paint everywhere. I go in without a plan and sometimes I come out with a masterpiece. I've only been disappointed once and I fixed it and painted something else but I am determined to master watercolours, because they are so airy and delicate and far easier to travel with. Sometimes the daunting task of setting up for acrylics is crushing. And I gave up oils years ago. 

But yes. Round Yupo paper (on an extreme whim but Legion paper and I have a great relationship. They make all of this cool paper and I just buy everything I can find) and new Russian watercolors, a belly full of eggs and then more eggs, coffee and pastries and the rain falling just so that everything is tinged with a heady petrichor breeze and I would call this a perfect Saturday.

It's happening and I won't be there, either.

What are you doing? 

Trying to figure out which way Ohio is. 

For what-

Nothing! Not doing anything. 

You are NOT going to the Gathering. 

Maybe I am-

Bridget. 

What? Don't worry. I can't even go to Dairy Queen down the road. I don't think you have to worry too much.

Things I've learned this week.

1. Tik Tok is literally the greatest app ever, for when I get tired of Cribbage With Grandpa, I mean. The best Tik Tokker (?) is Andy Bird AKA DreadfulBird who pops in around the clock with the same message, adding a bit here and there but essentially telling us to take a moment and it's so glorious. Second best is William White AKA Whiteyy18 who has a dreamy eighties Rob Lowe thing going on where he lip syncs to classic love songs (like that isn't my jam) and I admit I was rocked back when he showed up on my FYP. Yes, I have an account on it, no I haven't posted any videos. But I can spend hours watching other people and we are trying to convince Lochlan to teach people juggling on an account but Lochlan's phone...is a phone, and for some reason he laughs when I show him videos but refuses to download it to enjoy anything. He's weird. 
2. Peonies last forever in a vase of water. Ants however, also last forever and come in with them so you have to leave the closed buds upsidedown in water for a bit first. THEN bring them in.
3. The pool chemicals finally don't hurt my face AKA it takes four weeks to recover from multiple wasp stings.
4. My eye still burns and one part of my face so that means nerve damage. FUN.
5. Gatorade is greater than Diet Coke.
6. If you wish for something hard enough it can happen. I was able to finally submit for a tattoo project with one of my all-time favourite artists ever. Cross you fingers for me, I really want this work by this artist. 
7. Papyrus cards come with a warning about requiring extra postage. Who knew? We literally ALL sign all the father's day cards that go out around the globe and it takes two days to prepare the cards and then cross-check to make sure they got signed by all of us (the dads will check) and then as I am putting stamps on them I saw the note and I'm like noooooooooo. But they don't seem heavy and they meet the size requirement for letter mail so we mailed them early and will hopefully not get them back for insufficent postage. Christ on a pancake. 
8. The mouse in the garden does not like critter spray (I use it around the garden sheds to keep the raccoons out). Neither do I. I sprayed it in the wind last night and had a wonderful coughing fit. Essentially I pepper-sprayed myself.
9. It's Friday eventually. Finally. Now. Today.
10. Moderna makes me nauseous as hell and extremely tired, hence the Gatorade revelation.
    
11.  If the dog needs to get up at midnight to go outside and then again at five in the morning, someone (me) should probably check his backside for poop dribbles before letting him back up on the bed because I had a chance to sleep until seven. Yup. Someone (me) cleaned it all up though.
12. Restaurants are open and I really really really want that Monte Cristo now but I am afraid and I am surprised and pleased at myself for that feeling and so therefore we will get takeout sushi as always.
    

The very last package of baby-pink shiny heart pasties was sitting in my bureau drawer just for this moment. Or rather, an upcoming one.

I got really confused yesterday because everything online was Pride month this and that and as far as I know it's always the hottest weekend of the year that Pride takes place on, and it's not in June, it's at the end of July/start of August. I didn't realize how much of the content I see online is American. Or maybe how little of a footprint Canada has, as we've been a gay-friendly country overall for thirty-something years now while the US seems to be just waking up. In any event, it spurred a group planning dinner in which we are plotting and scheming a Pride weekend party here for the long weekend at the beginning of August and we're going to have a drag parade and entertainment and glitter rain and a big picnic with live music and dancing and I do love having something to plan for. Maybe it can even serve as a defacto early anniversary party for Lochlan and I. Maybe it can just be a fun event we can work towards to pull us out of the strange pandemic-wane in which we are still too horrified to go to crowded places and are still curating our mask collections with all the ferver of early virus times. 

I don't know. But now I need to source a crane with biodegradable, environmentally-friendly glitter rain and that's going to be a literal tall order here. 

And if you don't already live here on the Point you aren't invited. I figure I should make that clear right off. We're now a lost and hidden tribe. We don't show ourselves to the outside world. We don't let them in. 

If only, Lochlan breathes. He's excited. Straightest man on the point but God, does he love drag.

Deep (end).

 I'm listening to the new Billie Eilish single this morning. I can rearrange this for the piano but her voice is unique and I really like listening so I may leave it. Besides, Lochlan's been hogging the piano all week sorting out a good arrangement of Honky Cat, I think just to make me laugh.

It's working. 

He really has a such a flair. It's almost incredible how surrounded we are by surly musicians and Lochlan turns out to be the most flamboyant performer of all. The rest are shy and yielding, hard to cajole, impossible to convince to perform. Circus people are not like that. We just do it, because we have to. It's a compulsion. It is a complete and utter lack of shame or self-regard and a huge desire to get that high from smiles on people's faces. Or wonderment. Shock. Surprise. Fear. Relief. Whatever works. 

Add in music and well, that's the holy grail of our lives. The backbone. 

I let Ben turn off my alarm in order for me to ignore it this morning. I let Daniel paint my toes with pink glitter. I let Asher take my inventory and decide that sleep wasn't forthcoming and drugs would be, and then he announced to the house that he noticed I liked hot, elaborate and complete breakfasts and then preferred to graze for the remainder of the day on fruit or crackers or just booze and he's not wrong but I also pride myself on having a big family dinner every night and I wait until everyone's home, and most of the time these days everyone is so not a huge deal. 

Then he made me bruschetta with cheese on twelve grain bread and it was one of the best breakfasts I have ever had. 

No one argued with him. They know. But they are also of the time to skip breakfast completely and I will die before I start cooking early so this will clearly be a him-thing when he's working for me, and well, coffee when he is not. 

He will be for the next few days while I sit at the bottom of the pool. It suddenly got insanely hot out and the pool is the only place we can get any relief. Asher says this is the best and chillest job he thinks he's ever had and that makes me sad because babysitting a mentally ill woman who is already babysat by levels of people would be a difficult job but he acts like he's on vacation and if I ask him for something he acts like he's doing a favour for his very best friend. 

I wonder if it will last. 

(I think it will.)

Love in a mist.

How are you feeling? 

I am on the swing and I hear him before I see him, as is his usual routine these days. He gets into my head first and works his way out until my eyes catch sight of the blonde hair and the ever-present pale blue button down.

I look for Caleb but he is clear on the other side of the vineyard inspecting the new shed. He's not a gardener as such but I can get him to walk the grounds and it's shady out here so I like to come out and see what's growing before the sun can touch me. I always stop for ten or fifteen for a thought and a swing, and no one ever seems to mind. And I don't know who put Jacob in the orchard but maybe he's here so I can see him from my studio windows. Or maybe he's just here because he follows me wherever I go.

I've had better springs. My face still has pain. And I got my vaccine so honestly I could sleep for a month, if prompted. 

You could sleep more, that's for sure. 

Are you there too? 

I'm with you all the time. 

Personal Jesus. Wasn't that a song?

By a band you don't like. 

Who gave you permission to follow me around? 

You did. 

When did I do this? 

When you chose to never stop grieving. 

Am I supposed to stop?

Most people do. 

I have never ever been a 'most-people'. 

This is true. 

Neamhchiontach. Oh. The Devil is back around this way and the spell is broken. Jacob retreats back behind my eyes and Caleb is there holding out a grand bouquet of nigella flowers, one of my favourites. I planted a metric ton of them all around the edge of the side yard and they have grown up in a knee-high perimeter of  airy star-shaped blue and white delicate blooms that make me so happy they beat every bouquet professionally willed into this house. Ruth and I have been pressing them constantly to use in future projects. I've been trying to paint them. It doesn't stop and it's considered a good healthy obsession, one of so few that garners approval. 

Wow. Thank you. 

They are almost as beautiful as you. What were you saying when I came up? Did you have to stop swinging because I'm back? No. Not if you don't want to. 

I think I'm done for now. 

Okay, we can work our way back. He holds out his elbow so that I can take his arm and we head back down the hill.

Everything and nothing.

Much to my dismay I do not have 5G (even on my phone because we're far away from towers that bring actual reception) as joked about nor did it give me super-hearing which is also something I was secretly hoping for. 

Lochlan scoffs and says all it gives us is sore arms and peace of mind and he's right and so he gets to play the piano this morning but he's not keeping up with my song and I forgot the words in the middle anyway. this after he promised we would live life more musically as we piled into the theatre last night to get through as much of the second act of season five of Lucifer on Netflix, a show with more religious puns and musical numbers than I could ever hope to see all at once on the big screen and I love it so much and I'll be sad when it's all done. Also it seems like we've hardly watched anything this spring and we've watched a few things. I guess it ebbs and wanes sometimes, like the tide, which gifted me nothing at all this morning but maybe I wasn't looking because I feel too tired today anyway. Otherwise good but tired from not being able to sleep comfortably and also because I lay there waiting for my gifts like a forgotten superhero and as I said in the first paragraph it was all hyped for nothing. 

I do get to have a huge homemade cinnamon bun and a good cup of tea for my second coffee courtesy of Matt who came over to make breakfast, sent by Sam who thought we might need an extra hand. Which makes me laugh, Asher is back but Matt is a different soul and he's easy to talk to. He is settled in and content as fuck. They both are, honestly but Matt likes the privacy of the boathouse and his life here with Sam working mostly from home. 

Even though things are rapidly heading back to previous normals, as I pointed out to the boys earlier. Sam may be going back to work in the next few weeks. Things are opening. Restaurants are now open for dining and I won't be going to one any time soon but I do feel as if I am working my way toward a Monte Cristo like no other. Last time I had one was August of 2019 and that's a goddamned tragedy, I think.

In the meantime we can sing to pass the time while I wait for my fucking sandwich. 

Your priorities are interesting, Matt says and I just roll my eyes at him. Well, better hearing and a sandwich?

Never said I wanted much in life, I remind them all. That would be lots.

Update: it was Moderna! Very excited for that. And now everyone on the point has had at least one vaccine. So thankful that everyone here is still healthy and safe and continues to be so. Now I go sleep because zzzzz.

Sunday shots.

Dozing this morning in the fog, eyes closed against the half-light, cool and perfectly comfortable with a breeze on my face from the window above the bed and the warmth of his arm around the back of my neck, his fingers smoothing my bangs away from my forehead periodically. Just as I fall asleep they dance across my skull and I am pulled out of an endless, meandering dream in which I am rowing a boat across a lake so chockful of lilies I can't gain any speed but it's also so beautiful it takes my breath away. 

(I did that once. Sometimes memories masquerade as dreams. I love my brain when that happens.)

I have to go get ready, Diabhal. 

Church is probably over. You can listen to it this afternoon. 

The kids and I are getting vaccinated. 

On a Sunday? 

Yes. 

Need a driver?

Have one. Lochlan's taking us. 

Ah. Then I'll be here when you get back. 

Okay. I kiss his cheek and he grabs for me as I escape his embrace.

I will get the grapefruit lemonade one, of course. Same one I always get. That's a lie. I always seem to end up with blue. I don't even know what flavour blue is.

 My eyes are burning and so is my face from where I swelled up like a pink balloon during waspgate. I was in the sun this morning for probably two hours, mostly in shade, weeding the gardens and hoeing up the soil, checking on my seeds (EVERYTHING came up) and getting rid of leftover sticks/bits. Lochlan was tying up grapevines and covering access points in the big wooden fence. Using up old wood. Making it garden-tight as we called it by the time we were finished, around two. I got to go have a cool shower and put on comfy clothes for a trip into the city to pick up a bag full of books and a big order of Indian food (Pakoras for DAYS and Keema naan which makes me so stupidly happy you wouldn't even believe it) and then after dinner we could sit and have a drink and enjoy the beautiful gardens and I realized I probably still managed to do too much, even as I am clearing the week just in case my vaccine makes me so tired and I sleep for two days, like the boys all did after their shots. 

Sleeping for two days would be a fucking dream. It'll never happen. You know me. But I definitely won't even be lifting a finger tomorrow. We have more Indian food left than we brought home, I think. The outdoors is done. I even washed down the patio chairs up by the doors. I watered everything. We decided not to mow this week to preserve the health of the grass through the next four-day heatwave and the most I will have to do is water things maybe on Tuesday. Lochlan will do it in the evening if I need. 

We don't even need groceries, as we stopped in to a 7/11 I had never been in before and picked up some odds and ends. They had FIVE Slurpee machines but I didn't get one, as we had the takeout. Maybe next week. 

I am ready for my shot and can't wait for this stupid pandemic to be finished.