Whoops.

I grabbed a bunch of the non-civic-minded boys from here and walked up the hill this morning in the endless dry heat to vote at the local school in our advance polls and sure enough, advance voting ended last night at 8pm. 

Now we have to do it all again tomorrow. 

Remind me next election to go vote on the first day early voting is up. What a pain in the arse.

Also it is supposed to be 25 degrees this weekend. No rain, records being broken all over the place. I hate this weather. I am always sweaty. Also if you throw your cigarettes out the car window fuck you. There's a fire up the hill from me. Everything is tinder-dry. Sirens all damn day.

Fighting.

They found Jaqui McDermott's remains and we are left to speculate on whether she gave up and ended her own life or fell off a cliff or got eaten by a bear or what, since there was no 'criminality' involved. They used to say 'foul play' but maybe that's out of fashion now, or someone got offended by the use of the word 'play' to describe monstrous things. Either way I know her family is hurting and life sucks so badly sometimes but then you see a beautiful sunset or hear a great new song and three minutes go by and you forget you're hurting but then you remember again. Eventually three minutes becomes three hours becomes three days becomes three weeks becomes three months..

And that's where it stops, I think. I don't go three months without thinking of Jacob or Cole, even as I launch into this season of misery, grifting happiness from anyone who doesn't have their nailed down. Less than four weeks and we would have been planning a birthday party. Less than four weeks and we would have been marvelling at seventeen years together and wondering where the time went. 

The time is quicksand and I am up to my neck, as ever. You can still save yourself if you're only in it up to your chest, because you can use your arms. I am shorter and my arms are as mired as my legs. I am a statue made of grief, the hardest substance known to man, but also the most brittle. If the wind blows the wrong way I will shatter and dissolve into this mud, never to be seen again. 

That's what grief does and I hope it never finds you. 

I'm really having a hard time being online. I'm having a hard time with everything. I am so drugged out of my mind here it's hard to decide on a juice when I open the fridge and so I just default to grapefruit, every single day. Every day is a mindless float on an air mattress in a pool of my own nightmares and I don't know when it's time to go. 

That's all. I don't know how to respectfully decline. I don't know how to convince the ghosts to leave, that the dinner party is over and I want to go to bed. I don't know how to stop it. I just don't know.

Blademommer.

It's definitely a full moon around here. 

Everyone drives like a maniac on the highways. Everything just feels sinister and off today somehow.

I got sucked down a rabbit hole reading about all the missing people in the BC triangle, especially in light of the missing woman in Merritt. She's Ruth's age. I'm watching for any news like a hawk. I want everyone under forty to just swallow an air tag and be done with it. We need to know where you all are. At least with Ruth and with Henry they check in when they arrive where they were going and they let me know when they're leaving and Ruth lets me know she made it home as well, since I don't actually see her arrive home. Maybe it's helicoptery but I'd rather see them safe than missing. I don't think my heart could take it. My heart goes out to Jaqui McDermott's family, I hope she is found safe and sound, and soon. 

Back to reading about scary things. It's easy to do when I am locked in my house with an army. I consider myself incredibly lucky for that, as I know so many people don't have a place that is safe.

If you haven't read about Jaqui, go and find the news articles, find the social media posts and share share share, especially if you are here in BC. If you are not, then just pray for her. Thank you.

Amuse-bouche (and intact).

The Devil decided to take his due while I was down for the count. I felt awful all week and so Caleb took it upon himself to fix that, and I was installed in his bed, air conditioning on full blast, blankets piled high. I had drugged sleep for most of my week, waking to eat Thai food and drink mimosas (which don't go together, unless you're sick, frankly) and text with Lochlan. Caleb sent for the doctor who brought vitamin shots and an iv of fluids for a couple of hours, and then I slept some more. In the evenings we watched every Texas Chainsaw Massacre film we could conjure from streaming sites and then I dreamt sporadically. No nightmares. Just Lochlan in my head.

When I was returned yesterday, still not feeling super-great but not willing to spend any more time away, Lochlan was happy to see me, though you'd never know it, as he was silent right up until I pointed out that I had had my fill of Leatherface and he started laughing and did not stop for an inappropriate amount of time. I thought it was relief at first.

I figured that would happen eventually. I like the new nickname. 

And then I realized I hadn't told him what movies we watched.

Spiked.

My sushi came in contact with shellfish tonight so I ate and then lost all the feeling in my face and it turned bright red and swelled up a little. I went and washed it and washed my hands and brushed my teeth and held a hot hot washcloth over it for a few minutes until it started to feel less fiery. Then I laid out the box of Benadryl and pointed out my allergy to the boys just in case it got worse. Luckily it was short-lived so probably crab. I'm allergic to crab. 

I still eat it but only once in a blue moon. 

I also had a ripping good gin and tonic after a pretty nice day today. I went shopping. I did some errands. I trimmed some bowls. I got my covid shot, which hopefully is no relation to the crab thing. But you never know. My arm hurts a lot. 

I watched Dahmer. It was bad. So bad. Evan Peters is great, I love him but this was just bad. Maybe I'm icked out by serial killers from my own more recent lifetime and happier to stick with the shadowy ones from the seventies. Which is fine, as the best part of the show was watching 'Jeff' mopping in the prison floor while watching live television footage of John Wayne Gacy's execution by lethal injection. The irony of that was a bit jarring. The show itself was dull. Kind of like a badly-executed The Joker without the in-your-face insanity and undercurrent of evil. Jeff seemed like a misunderstood kid. It was bad. 

Hoping for better tonight. All the shows lately have been such turkeys.

(Shallow graves and deepest fears Someone tell me why I'm here).

 Dear lord. I don't think I'll make it through this album. This is the new Slipknot (The End, So Far). It's somewhat like a warm bath.They always have been. Familiar but more. Always love them. Love their masks, love the whole angry scary vibe that is pretty mellow IRL. Like all my boys. An easy choice. But their slow songs eviscerate me and maybe they always will. They seem to find a heart string and pluck it so hard it breaks and you're left out of tune.

Adderall is the hardest one here. Fight me. Softest actual melody but most difficult to listen to, I mean. 

Today I again am noticing huge blocks of time slipping by. I need to be better with time management here, as it keeps coming up on days after I write instead of hours and I keep promising to change but I am doing my best. I am still waiting for the terror to stop, still amused that I can drive myself into the ground physically here and have no concept of repair. I still hope for miracles that have been long cancelled and I vow to make the most of this even as I am paralyzed by it. 

My nails are too long. I can hardly type. I keep nicking the bowls I am waiting to trim. But I don't care, either. We managed to get our Covid vaccine appointments in a big block at an unfamiliar pharmacy for this Saturday so I expect everyone will spend Sunday sleeping, as always. I am trying to pregame the chores, thus and am defrosting the stupid freezer so we can fix it tonight. Got the part, just have to stick it on. Fun. 

Then mowing and landscaping. My arms are killing me so I'm sure I'll be left out of the fun but I have things I want to do towards winter and the boys don't prepare as much. 

I'm also going to drop everything and watch Dahmer this afternoon. I think Dalton is going to join me. Andrew said he might too. Friday afternoon cinema. I got an email about advance tickets for Halloween Ends and I'm on the fence. Evil dies tonight was a lie, I guess. Mike Myers never dies and I will be enraged if he walks away at the end but also enraged if they finally kill him. So no one wants to take me to the show. I will make Lochlan do it. He was there at the start. We have to see this thing through.

The antithesis of Diabhal (career version).

It's the season of sweaters in the morning and barely anything in the afternoon since it's gotten to twenty-five degrees just about every day. Three months without more than a day of meaningful rain. Three months of unbearable heat. A long stretch of being miserable in my own skin and I am tired. Today I walked around in a long fuzzy pink duster cardigan and combat boots. More than one comment asked me if I was wearing anything underneath and I gave wrong answers only, just for funsies. 

My head hurts. 

I worked yesterday (in proper clothes). All paperwork and filing and then a last minute run to get coffee and sweetener for the break room which is really a small side table outfitted with warm bottles of water, a big ancient Keurig and two cups filled with powdered creamer and powdered aspartame. 

This lawyer has no airs. Zip. Zero. No people skills either. Usually the lawyers are smooth and charming and try to invite me out for drinks or at least buy me dinner but this one asked if I had a Per Diem in my contract and then pushed his glasses up his face and frowned at his computer again. I offered to get him a coffee and he laughed and told me to close the door on the way out. He was not supposed to be there but at the same time it was easier to have direction from the horse's mouth, so I knew exactly what had to be done and it seems to be some of everything. 

But there were fumes in the building and the printing was small on all the pages and I had breakfast but no lunch and therefore, headache. 

And there was an extra twenty dollar on my pay for that lunch, just to be sure. 

I might go back next week. We shall see!

Last minute/ice crystals.

I got cold feet last night, weirded out by all the early storm reports from my beloved East Coast and almost at the same time a gradual frost hardened Lochlan's heart, insulating him from whatever generosity he felt briefly flitting past us, a spectre of a time when we tried to find a warm place on a cold point. 

Tell him it's off. A quiet command from the dark of the front porch. It gets dark before I can bring my tea out now, later than ever due to a last moment freezer-defrost which caught me by surprise. The fridge is technically broken but parts have been ordered and honestly we don't need either a water dispenser nor do we need an ice maker and if this doesn't get fix on the first go I'm never buying a huge expensive fridge again as the ones that are white and have a tiny freezer up top never ever break and this is the second time we've had to fix this one. At least the boys are handy. At least the parts are plentiful. But talk about badly made. Holy shit. 

So at ten pm after many delays I cancelled on Caleb who said it was my call, and that he understood, no pressure and another time. I'll see him at brunch tomorrow. He'll miss me but one drink has sent him and he's going to sleep anyway. That he loves me. 

I replied with a heart and breathed a sigh of relief. My bread stayed frozen. The big freezers outside took the bulk of what I had on hand and I am so tired suddenly. I just want my tea and a deep breath. We sat on the swinging double chair and I had both. 

I already did. 

An inaudible, barely noticeable breath held and then Lochlan nods in my peripheral vision. 

Smart, Peanut. I don't think I'm ready to be without you again. 

Then don't be. I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes and I woke up this morning to the sun. 

Blood of my bl- Enemies? Yes, that's it.

I had a long weekend planned with Caleb. Well, Friday afternoon to Sunday morning. We were going to marathon horror movies and eat take-out Chinese food and not leave his wing, enjoying the rare rain and a bit of a break before the fall routine sets in. Today is the first day of fall and there is lots to do on the horizon. 

And then my period started. That stupid thing I haven't had to deal with in over four months returned triumphantly like a toxic aunt from an overseas sojourn. I was stunned, frankly. I thought it was done forever. And now I'm back to square one and enjoying an endless hot flash. I've sweat through three outfits already and my whole week is off the rails now. 

Let's reschedule. I found Caleb on the porch. I put my hands over his forehead and leaned way over his shoulder and he pulled me right off my feet and into his lap. I might have kicked him good in one ear in the process but if I did he didn't notice. 

Why, Neamhchiontach? Loch having second thoughts?

I tell him what's happened and he looks concerned. 

Been a while. 

Yes. 

Interesting how it comes back the minute we are together again. 

Oh, you're right. Weird. 

No, evil, remember? He smiles. Amused but not deterred. 

So maybe next weekend instead? Since this throws a huge wrench into our plans?

Who said that? It's fine. We're still on. 

Then the wicked smile plays across his face and the reasons why I run from him flickered across my memories, reflected in his medium blues. 

It might even make things more fun.

The horror queen is coming back. Even PJ bailed on me for this one.

Ooh. The boys were watching Cyberpunk tonight and last night and I didn't have much interest in it so I stayed upstairs by the fire and rewatched Children of the Corn. Yes, the original. From 1984 (it's on Youtube even!) which was the summer I was thirteen and I ran around all of the rest of that year calling Lochlan Malachai whenever he got mad because of the red-hair similarity. 

Wow. That movie did not pass the test of time. The most glaring hardship being Linda Hamilton playing a damsel in distress (badly, too). And Peter Horton's Nike colour change halfway through. And Isaac being the roadmap for the kid who would later play Joffre in Game of Thrones. Creepily similar.

I had forgotten all about the ridiculous fire-monster-god-thing that bubbled up when the whole mess was solved, not with a Molotov cocktail, but with a Molotov cocktail thrown in the right direction. 

Disappointed? Maybe a little bit. 

Damn.