(The She's So Lucky title from the last post was a line from one of Britney's songs in case you live under a rock. I'm not saying she's actually lucky, to clarify a bunch more.)

Christmas is in full swing here, suddenly. The trees are up and done, the gifts are 99% bought and ready, I just need to wrap the gifts now and find decent Christmas crackers. Six boxes. They all such toy-wise. I need to branch out, perhaps. 

A diamond fell out of one of my bestest rings so that goes in to the jeweller today. It's pouring. Hopefully everyone will stay home. I'm watching Lookism on Netflix. I'm still reading The Night and Her Moon. I'm still listening to everything under the sun and I'm drinking the most amazing gin royal by Compass. It's a beautiful elderflower blue and then it turns pink and then lavender when you pour tonic water into it. No, I'm not supposed to drink and yes, everyone cares but its a couple a week if any. I'm fine.

She's so lucky.

Are we following the Britney Spears drama on TikTok? Should we be? Is there any, actually or is it all made up and spread around like ashes after a wa-

Let me not go there. Not today. Today has been weird enough. 

I'm not Britney. At least one person a day tries to tell me I am but I'm not, sorry (not sorry).

In this hell of a season.

I was going to show you my phone screen from this morning. Forty different alerts from our home security cameras that there was movement on PJ and Duncan (easier to name zones after the boys who inhabit them) and that my TDMySpend categories were through the roof since I spent $3400 yesterday and that was a little more than usual and also I spent specifically a large sum at the music shop and that wasn't included hahaha because it went off the page. It's fine. 

But they talked me out of it because my lock screen is my children's faces and even covered by notifications it wasn't feasible. 

We did decorate today a little. The trees will go up on the weekend but all the garlands and tiny lighted things are everywhere. The wreaths are up. The ancient pocked Santa who sits in the upstairs hallway has arrived and the sled is in the tree out front, above the gates with a spray of LED stars behind it. The reindeer are in the attic storage so we'll get those down on the weekend too. There are three of them. 

It looks vintage and magical, just like I like best. 

Lochlan is singing his most recent favourite, Friday Pilots Club, a song called Would You Mind, and I'm a little weaker in the knees now for it than I was before dark, and I'm not complaining. There are so many I can lean on, lean into, keel over with or simply swoon in the dim lights as the candles drown at the dinner table and the last droplets of wine dry in the throats of the thin glasses we use for every day. 

He will belt it with the passion of a thousand sparks, joined into flame and I swear I've never had eyes for another.

Pretending it's not real.

 They keep taking my internet and then I forget that I wanted to post because the pills are a whole new level of lombotomy-kind, to be truthful and I've said it dozens of times in the past few weeks. I mean to post, I really do. I mean to be reactive and interactive and forthcoming and then I slip. It's like being an addict in a room full of temptations and you should congratulate me because I've avoided saying too much by not saying anything at all. 

Today will be no different, but I did manage to spend today Christmas shopping and I think I've got it all done. 

Almost, anyway. I will finish up this week. 

I was so panicked about it when I woke up and now I suddenly feel like I'm miles ahead. 

It's the latest I've ever gotten underway. I'm saying that a lot about almost everything these days. I appreciate that you are still here. I really do.

Rest in peace, Christine McVie. You were a big part of my tiny, brief childhood and a prolific voice ever since.

Recon, recoup, relax.

I did not get out of bed last week. My mood was bad, my enthusiasm got a failing grade and my smile was in such poor form, if not nonexistent, that I chose to not subject anyone to that crap as it is always a first world problem and I am always the first in my own little world, as it is muffled from yours, silent and still. 

Lochlan spent the first day fretting, the second day yelling, the third day he slumped into his own brief depression and then on Friday he summoned the doctor, who not only gave me more meds but also gave me some meds for the latest round of eczema around my nose, as I get stress induced bumps when it isn't caused by anything and everything else. I look like I have a very bad cold and my nose is raw. Ben called it a must-rash and now we're laughing again but I think it took far too long to pull off and this morning I got out of bed, showered and put on warm clothes and pulled myself the fuck together and woke up Lochlan and suggested we go for brunch so I could hit the ground running. He was so happy I think he cried and then I had to eat my breakfast with my left hand as he came and sat on my side of the booth and never went back to his own, a customary habit long in the making. I am decent with a fork in my left, anyway. I still have both eyes, so that's something. 

That joke is also long in the making. 

I have almost finished the Unabomber miniseries. I'm going to watch everything else in my list this winter and sit by the fire and rake leaves and shovel snow and be productive because that's the point of life. If not you're wasting it.

Those were the orders from Loch, backed up by the whole army. I asked if this plan had a name and he said Operation: Princess.

Cool.

Valentino for the imposter, thank you.

Four plane trips and two attempts at high speed Netflix and I finally finished season 3 of Bling Empire. I don't even know why I watched it, though I was really hoping for Kevin and Kim to finally give in and get together and so the stupid plot device DeVON or whatever seemed so fake. 

Not like any of it was 'real' but that was really disappointing. LOL I love trash television and I get so little of it. Humor me. 

Now I'm going to cry my way through Twentieth Century girl I think, unless I decide to knock off some horror flicks first, but we shall see. Ben is up for anything now that Bling Empire is done. He watched two episodes of it and was horrified. I was like but look at the Chanel dress or the Gucci bag! And he would ask if I wanted one. 

Sigh. That's not the point. 

The point is if I have a bag like that or a dress like that it's a Very Special Occasion. And I have a handful of beautiful bespoke designer pieces but not to wear every day just to go to some sushi joint like they do. Not that I would anyway because I'm not a fashionista or even a wannabe, but I am a huge people watcher and am fascinated by what people do in the wild. 

I watch them in order to become less...feral. I don't know. That's what Christian always said. And ever since he started saying that I see that he's right. I can follow the trend and dress to the nines and look like I am the epitome of self-assuredness or whatever I'm supposed to convey but on the inside is that sticky little wild brat screaming to run free. 

Then again maybe they all feel that way too. I mean all the self-assured folks in their designer outfits. All the confident people strolling into and out of my peripheral vision. Anyone. Everyone. Who knows? No one will tell me either way so I am left to imagine it, as I am with everything in life.

Better.

Caleb pops his head in to where I am lying on the floor in the sun like a cat, the only human characteristics being my headphones, clothes and the fact that I am belting out broken Korean lyrics with all the passion of an accidental tourist because I know like a handful of phrases and that's it. 

I see him and rip the headphones off, ending my singing and he smirks briefly, looking all of twenty. My heart lurches and then slaps itself backwards into next week and I snap involuntarily. 

What. 

I just wanted to say I appreciate your discretion with Samuel and I've also spoken to him about attempting to gain inappropriate time with you. 

ARGHHHH. I pick up my phone without responding and dial Sam, who picks up instantly. 

Bridge. 

Are you okay? Caleb just told me he came for you. 

Huh? He asked a few questions about church and then we talked about maybe getting some Japanese food on the weekend. 

Oh, okay. 

He didn't mention you or our conversation. I was ready for it. Thanks for typing it all out. 

Anytime. K, love. 

Love. 

I hang up. Liar. I go to put my headphones on and he barges right in, taking them out of my hands. 

It was implied-

Yeah, yeah. And what did we say about not interfering? 

What should I do when someone attempts to usurp me? 

Nothing? Unless you're there and even then you do nothing. That's the deal since you hurt Ben. I can handle Sam. 

You could handle Joel too.

Stop it, Cale. I'm having the best Friday and you aren't allowed to ruin it. 

Then I shall leave you to your uh...music. 

Thanks.

Appetite for destruction, I guess.

Sam and I went out for breakfast this morning, a rare getaway with just the two of us since Matt is sleeping in and so is Lochlan, truth be told because it's a hella windy Thursday and we were all up late last night and there are precious few morning people in this household at any given time. I got a text, woke Lochlan long enough to let him now and then let myself into the bathroom to shower quickly and put on warm woolen tights, a wool dress and pearl earrings, which I promptly took off again as I hate how they feel. An extra ring instead made me feel semi-polished and I was off to meet Sam in the driveway where he opened the car door for me and then came around and got in and we were off. No radio, no talking until we were seated at the restaurant and our coffee and drinks order had been taken, with nary a frown made for my request for a mimosa made with grapefruit juice, since coffee alone is static, boring. 

Besides, if you aren't day-drinking are you even having a day?

That isn't funny OR clever, Bridget, Sam says kindly. 

If I had wanted to be funny I would have ordered one for you, too. I mock-glare at him over the rim of my cup. The one downside of this restaurant are the chairs are rather low for shorter folk and so the table hits at chest-height. I stand up, place my bag on the seat and sit on it. Brings me up to above armpit level and I feel more normal. Hahaha. Do I actually? I mean, have I ever? 

Then I realize I could fuck up my phone, key fobs and everything else and slide off it and return to sitting at child leg-swinging height, chin on table top. Well, not actually but it feels close. 

Should we move to a booth? 

Let me test it. I head to a booth but it's not much better. In fact, it's worse, somehow. Great. No, that's fine. 

Excuse me, could we have a cushion? 

Yes, of course. 

They bring a big stiff pillow from the lounge window seats. Nice! Eight going on whatever old I am now. Perfect. A booster seat like the one in my truck. Semi-humiliating but also exceedingly helpful.  

The food arrives and I order another mimosa. It's going to be a long day. Sam eats exactly one quarter of his food before starting in, and I was ready for it. 

About this winter-

Yups.

Bridget-

WHAT. 

Caleb isn't-

Up for discussion? No, he's not. You're right, Samuel. 

He looks at his plate. I spear a piece of roasted potato from it and eat it in spite of having saved all of mine for last. I'm hoarding them to absorb the alcohol. 

Lochlan-

Is fine with it.

Is he? I don't think he is. 

Are you? Because I'm thinking you are not. 

You're very good. 

I nod, no idea at what. 

I am jealous. 

You have Matt. 

I was hoping-

Okay, I think we're ready for the bill. Let's not even go there. If you want a visit here or there just ask me. Don't turn it into something obsessive. I'm the queen of that. Trust me. 

I feel oddly calm and detached, like I'm giving the safety announcement on a plane before takeoff. Put on your oxygen mask before putting the ones on the people you need to help so you can help them, for God's sake and if we go down none of this is going to help whatsoever so good luck and hope you had a nice life. 

(I did, thanks for asking and no thanks to those who fed my overstuffed ego. Or let her drink.)

Wax-sealed (for her pleasur- EW).

We finally got the whisky advent calendars at stores in Canada this year. If we had them before I didn't see them and no one at the stores knew what I was talking about but of course now that I can waltz in and buy one I am balking at the price tag ($336 for 24 30ml drams which isn't even a full shot each) when I can by two bottles of Lagavulin for the same price...ish. 

So that's what I'm going to do. 

Also...climate people...a Klimnt? Are you mad? Stop it. Want to target something? Go glue yourselves to an Amazon warehouse. Average of four trucks a day on my street. It's ridiculous. I still make jokes that I can order 4 things and get 7 deliveries. Even if I check the box that says to wait and deliver it together. 

I should see if they have the advent calendars. Can you order alcohol through Amazon? Should I even look or should I leave that monster in the closet with all of the skeletons?