The start of winter.

I'm not getting up yet today. I'm lying in bed with a roaring fire going, playing A Good Snowman Is Hard to Build (the latest ios craze in this house even though I haven't even remoted finished decorating my village in Christmas Puzzle 3 and all of the townspeople are going to HATE me) and waiting for Lochlan to bring up breakfast in bed. My coffee is late. My head hurts. I've thrown my phone twice across the room and then went and got it because Dalton finished the game last night and I can't even solve the first level yet but I'm determined. In any case Lochlan offered to make omelettes and coffee since he kept me up half the night to watch The Witcher's second season which was so so good (Jaskier's monologues and songs. What a ride.) and I fought to stay awake. I am tired now because I go to bed at nine each night and then I actually sleep from two to six. 

But that is not important. This is.

Tonight we're having our solstice dinner on the beach, complete with dress code (interpretive dark victorian/gothic formal) with sparkling virgin cider made here on the point. The menu is pot roast, root vegetables (grown here) and dumplings, apple pie and then I have sparklers and streamers for dancing after dinner. My windproof candles are ready and the boxes are beginning to be lined up near the patio doors as it will take the rest of the day to cook and set up but it's so worth it. Especially if it rains. I am excited but I still need a little more rest first, as it's the shortest day of the year and already it's packed to the stars.

Afterwrath.

I have my nose pressed up against the glass, money in my hand. I didn't want to put wagers on my soul but here we are, PJ, Ben and I, watching Lochlan and Caleb duke it out in the snow in the front yard. Only Caleb isn't fighting back at all. The wind is gone out of his sails, or maybe hurting Ben is what finally changed him. Maybe this is his penance, though I pointed out to Lochlan that none of this was Caleb's fault and he almost believed me until he found the carefully hidden bite mark on the back of my neck, almost in my hair, that wouldn't have broken the skin but it did. 

Now it's his fault, apparently, because he can't seem to not mash his teeth all over me, or maybe I'm just that delicious. Either way, there they are. Lochlan's lost all of his steam from shouting and is now swinging for the hills, but Ben remains with one hand on the door, ready to go out and break it up if anyone is about to get seriously hurt. Including Caleb. 

PJ just wants to wager, as he knows damn well Caleb wouldn't hurt Lochlan. He wouldn't dare. The fifty bill is just to see who stops first and it's only a valid bet if they aren't stopped by a third party first. I bet Caleb would stop first only because I know Lochlan as well as I do. 

And I was right. Now I'm fifty dollars richer, my nose is cold and pink and I told Lochlan to stop hitting people. 

I will when you stop fucking them, he said. 

NICE. I spat back.

I was out in the cold doing something NICE for YOU, he yells. 

I DON'T NEED NICE. I NEED PRESENCE. 

Right. PRESENTS. 

No, PRESENCE. 

What the FUCK, Peanut?

This would be better written down and then you'd see. 

Go write it then. Humiliate me some more. 

But then he winked and I don't even know which end is up and if you make me a bluff I'm going to call it so here we are. Immature Christmas 2021. Nothing has ever changed and nothing ever will. Also I think I need stitches. Oh and he invited Caleb for Boxing night.

Give my loaded gun away.

I was playing piano. House is virtually empty, as every handy-hand on deck is currently out working on my Christmas surprise and I'm about to be on Santa's naughty list as the Devil's warm hand slides around my throat. I hit a series of dramatic chords and he lifts my face up. Leaning over the piano bench from behind he kisses my mouth upside-down with a chuckle at my choice of musical accompaniment. 

It's cool down here. Come up to my room and have a drink with me by the fire. 

(Don't panic. Most of the dens in the various wings of the house have natural gas fired fireplaces. They are small but cozy and built into the big built-in bookcases.)

(Oh, you weren't panicking about that part. My bad.)

He pushes his index finger between my lips and I taste the sweet burn of the whiskey he just dipped into. 

The low pop-thrumb of the flame igniting distracts me ever so briefly and the hesitation lobs doubt into the atmosphere between us. 

My apologies, Neamhchiontach. Old habits. His face. Oh Jesus he looks completely defeated in a whole new way that I never get to see and I know it's bald-faced manipulation and I let it run unchecked. After all, 

It's Christmas. 

I nod and stand up and he holds out his hand, glass in the other. We go upstairs and down the long hall to his door and then inside. He closes but does not lock the door behind us. Once inside the fire grows before my eyes and he turns to pour my drink while I take off my earrings, leaving them in the little dish on the shelf. They were past their time to remove as it was but I got distracted when everyone headed out. No car keys or wallets so the surprise is home-based, at least. 

He holds out my glass and clinks his against it. 

Salut, he says with a smile that's gone in a flash. 

Sláinte, I reply, taking a sip. Aw, it's my dearest Lagavulin and I can lick those gravestones to my heart's content. 

No, he says abruplty to no one in particular and he rips the glass out of my hand, pulling me up with him. He pulls my face to his in a long, violent kiss and I am walked backwards down the hall to his bedroom, clothes being unbuttoned and left along the way. I am turned and shoved facedown on the blankets and his full weight keeps me there.

Christ, Cale. His hand covers my mouth. I squandered my brief shot at mercy like a goddamn newbie and now it's gone and while Caleb takes what he wants I go to the fair instead. His Christmas lights are the midway decorations to bring the village down at night and his onslaught fades into the background as I whip around the Ferris Wheel, my hair pulling against my backpack, where it was tucked inside the straps. 

Oh, I think I might black out here. I turn to look at Lochlan in the cart beside me but he's gone and I hope he didn't fall out and then I am turned and the hand leaves my face. I take a huge gasp of air and Caleb stands up and is gone. 

Another three minutes and the outer door of his wing closes. And he's gone. I get up shakily and walk down the hall, collecting my dress, my sweater. My tights. The bobby pins that I can find. I put my earrings back on and I put my glass in his bar sink. I dress as fast as I can and run out the door. He is sitting outside on floor outside the door, drinking his whiskey, staring at the wall. 

You know, when you were young I decided I never wanted to try and have the level of responsibility that Lochlan has for you and I never wanted to get married until you needed someone there to take care of you and the good news is that I think I'm back to the former because the latter would be nothing but heartache. 

That's our currency, Diabhal. 

Indeed, Neamhchiontach. 

Does that mean I can go?

You know the drill, Dollface. Run before I try and keep you nonetheless.

He said he was re-adventing himself. Har.

It's just freezing and pouring down sheets of rain today and I love it. We were supposed to get all snow but that's only up at highway levels. Down here on the water it is miserable and glorious all at once. Sam is doing tomorrow and then he's off on sabbatical at last. 

Just a few months. He needs the rest. This pandemic and all of the changes it brought has worn on Sam and he's taking a rest break. He wants to go back renewed and reenergized, not perpetually beaten down with zooms and streams and phone calls and front porch baptisms and field weddings where everyone has to shout and delayed funerals and bullshit orders. It was submitted forever ago. It was approved this morning and he called to tell me from across the driveway and broke down in tears on the phone. 

So I went over and crawled in between them and hung on tight. The feeling is so familiar. The soul is so new.

Eight legs to chase you.

It's hard to believe Christmas is a week from today. Or, Christmas Eve, as that's when we're having our big dinner. I'm excited. I'm thrilled to have a full table this year. All hands on deck. All boats ashore, as it were, since we're bringing the tables in to set up that we use when we have dinner out in the orchard, and every time we talk about it PJ says Spiders! in his Pennywise voice and I laugh but then I wonder. I had a small stepladder outside to help me reach the hanging plants that were too far from the hose to water and when I brought it in for winter to store in the back closet, there was a large crunchy wolf spider chilling under the top step. Where I usually put my other hand. 

I told the spider he was in the right place because this is definitely the wolf den. 

We're not going to talk about why I had no post yesterday. Let's just say it was a very bad day but also I changed my lights on my tiny Jeep to all LED and I made plans to someday fix my defrost when it's warm again. I also dropped a screw. Right in front of the Jeep on the driveway with it's giant grooves for the brickwork and dried leaves stuck to the clay. I couldn't see for shit so Dalton brought out the metal detector and he found it and all was well. I didn't want a screw stuck in a tire this time of year when we tend to go out only when we need to and hardly ever when the weather is bad. Not because we can't but because everyone else insists on trying to get places with summer tires up on the highway and it just isn't worth the stress or the risk. 

Besides. Who would want to leave? The tiny lights are always on, the trees are lit, music plays through the common parts of the house but not in the quiet zones, and we are warm and safe. Ruth comes over to draw, Henry stretches out with his phone and the dog, Duncan is usually sprawled in a chair reading his poetry. Ben stands by the Keurig, sipping his ever-present coffee, lost in thought. Outside the red-haired magician does tricks that leave you gasping, with an audience of no one. I stand nearby, at the ready in case he goes up in flames and I know I'll be (and I have been) burned, but I don't care. I can't take my eyes off him, even as the only time he looks at me is to make sure we're following fire protocol and I'm hoping by Christmas he is speaking to me again or I'll have to turn the spiders on him. 

(Update: he came in laughing because I was singing Line without a Hook at the top of my lungs again. I got a kiss on the head and he asked if I was ready to apologize for yelling at him in my frustration. Of course not, don't be silly. I'll die on this hill, at long last. The largest, scariest wolf waits in the wings to see how it all turns out.)

Back to Blinding Lights on the piano because someone (name starts with L) turned off the wi-fi and it came on promptly at eight. Which is too late, mostly for me to get my writing done (not just here, Jesus) and I walked into the server room at seven, looked around, checked the modem which was flashing and couldn't figure out the power cord or anything and had to leave it in case I screwed up something else (told many times: Don't. Touch. Anything.) but took a moment to appreciate how all the cords are ziptied in organized groups and I had a sudden fleeting thought that I should just burn the whole house down and walk up the road but then I remembered my steps. It's a first world problem. I should just swallow my feelings and distract myself. Everything that is unhealthy for us as humans is conveniently also what keeps us comfortable and most importantly, I'm not going to let him win with an irrational reaction because sometimes saving the day makes him happier than anything in the world. So that's out because I can deny him shit too.

Give me 80L or give me..uh...not death. A 4xe Jeep. Yes. give me one of those.

No, that white vehicle in the picture is not ours. I was just trying to get a shot to show you my favourite place but traffic was coming and we had to go anyway so I'm sorry I didn't frame some sort of aesthetic viewport for you. You can look up the restaurant yourself. I'm sure there are better pictures of it online. I told you I wasn't a photographer and I always tell the truth. 

Still dreaming about lunch though. I would do that every day but for the fact that we only venture out when everyone else stays home. 

Gas restrictions are ending today, however and I'm grateful for that too, Sam. Measuring out thimblesful of fuel for the big trucks is tough and a full tank brings me a huge measure of peace of mind that I can't afford to have restricted. 

My Jeep is on half and I hate it. It's snowing all week. I want a lot of gas. I won't go anywhere in it. Caleb wants to zoom around in his pretty new A7 with me instead. That car is sexy but I bet it doesn't handle as well as mine in the snow. 

I bet it does. 

Delusional millionaires. I roll my eyes. They think money can buy everything from happiness to pavement traction. Holy Christ. 

In any case I am brining chicken thighs for dinner. I make a mean honey-mustard one-pan dish that everyone destroys in seconds and I don't have to do anything major to pull it off so my card finally got pulled. Today we're just going to go fuel up and then stay home and...fuel up. 

(Can you tell we have houseguests? Yes you can tell. I have no time to myself to write. I don't mind though. It's a nice change.)

우린 뜨겁게 살아

Ventured out in actual public for the first time in a thousand years. Lochlan asked what I wanted to do and of course it's an easy answer. Hit a different beach and go to my favourite restaurant. Which also happens to be the ONLY restaurant in the village where you can get a good meal and spend an hour before getting on or after getting off a ferry from the island. 

So I rarely get to go because it's really busy and I don't like people. But yesterday the stars aligned, no one was taking ferries due to the threat of cancellations from high wind and snow and we were able to have a leisurely lunch there, with prolonged, multiple coffee refills and everything. 

I told you I wasn't pretentious, and I'm also a sucker for thick white unbreakable restaurant dishes and any menu that features both an all day breakfast and a really good club sandwich. 

And a wine list. That I gave back because I was already hungover. Ha. Too much dancing to k-pop with Daniel and Lochlan all weekend. Jesus I am too old for that now. 

In pajamas now with a glass of white wine so it's okay.

I don't know if we're going to talk about snowplow blade markers or why they're so expensive or who might be the one who needs them since even with two booster seats she can't see where her fenders end but perhaps I should look into figuring out how to make my own out of pipe cleaners or something.

Daniel laughs in tall. I am tagging along with them while they Christmas-shop, get good barber-cuts and close hot-towel shaves and concurrent manicures and we did lunch too. I am overheated, thirsty and unable to keep up. I guess it's like taking out a small child. They have a lot of energy, aren't having hot flashes and also spend thoughtfully on gifts. They stop often for coffee or for fresh-pressed juice. They will stroll along looking in windows and talking with salespeople. They sing along with carols in stores. 

I found some of the Christmas music a little heavy. Not sure I want to be looking at bespoke chocolate while listening to Greensleeves. Wish I had a bottle of water. If I had known they'd be out all day I might have stayed home but I also don't complain. I took off my coat, stole an ice cube straight out of Schuyler's juice with unwashed fingers and went and sat on a quiet bench a little out of the way for a bit. I texted Lochlan who thought I was funny and probably just improperly dressed (because I tend to overheat so easily you can set your watch by it. He said as soon as I get home I can change and then we'll make some drinks and watch movies tonight. He talked me into rejoining the boys just as they were finishing with their Christmas haircuts and we finished up shopping at the bookstore.

When we got home it took two trips to load their purchases into their front hallway and only one for me. I bought an ornament and an outfit for Henry. I have everything else I need. 

Everyone is so sad and disappointed that I didn't get any spa services or a haircut or anything for myself but merely withstood and endured. I don't know. I'm not a shopper. I did enjoy spending a day in the presence of Savage Garden while also fully clothed. That hardly EVER happens so lets just call it a win.

Per Sam's request.

I am grateful for:

Found not-stale hot chocolate and seasoned wood piles, new-vinyl record smell and cracking a fresh bottle of perfume, a surprise brandy given without expectation of company. Woolen legwarmers and cheesy Christmas movies, cheeseburgers and everyone jumping back on the Pokemon Go bandwagon with me while I attempt to finish the game (they say it isn't finishable but I choose not to believe that). being on the last fifteen pages of Billy Summers and really enjoying it even as I waited for the horror that never came. Men in 2021 getting cancelled for shit they thought they'd gotten away with (Caleb notwithstanding. Did he get away with it? Maybe, maybe not. Depends on who you ask or what day it is.), and women being strong. The health of my children and my boys. Nachos. Bad fountain pop from fast-food drive-throughs and well-fitting masks. Finding a hair elastic when I need one most, because my hair is that fun stage, just past my chin where it's not heavy enough to stay tucked behind my ears but I can make a Rescuers Pennyesque ponytail that sticks straight out. The hearing I have left. A whole host of good series just begun. The new tires in my possession tomorrow replacing what I didn't know was old and unsafe. Grateful for means and generosity always. Grateful for the daylight that filters through the giant windows facing the ocean and for the perpetual dimness in the front forest, toadstools included. For the imagination to travel when under duress and the weightlessness to be easy to restore. For the support and the love, affection and outright sick enjoyment of feeling wanted all the time. For all of it. Every last thing from the unbent forks we still use daily for pie to the extra-long generic phone cord that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't so I can sit up and surf my phone while both boys sleep with me as the meat to their bread sandwich. For cheques I can write with money gifted by a friend who really did say he wouldn't add to the heat and he stood by that oath and for new k-pop videos that make the kids dance even as they talk cars and careers in the front hall when Ruth stopped by on her way somewhere this morning. 

I don't take a thing for granted. Not a one. You know this.