Didn't expect it but I expected it.

My first world problems of forgetting Nick Cave lyrics (The Carny, of course. It's three times the length of an average tune with a billion and a half words and Lochlan has it tattooed to his soul but I can't remember anything any more, as I am unplugged, deconstructed and subdued) and being extremely irked by Canada Post and UPS and their abject failures in bringing me my things and then setting up the patio lights All By Myself only to discover when I went to plug them in that I started with the wrong end and then had two female plugs-the end of the lights and the extension cord. 

All first world problems, as I said but enough to start a quiet landslide in my brain and then it all stopped when I saw the paper tonight. Or rather, the AP newswire and saw that Heather Armstrong (Dooce herself) has passed away, on purpose even, as if it wasn't written in the cards the way it always is after the fact. 

I read her from the first. And I continued to read until things became darker and darker and I couldn't see any more and there are no blogs I read now because the time has come and gone and the people have come and gone and I'm still here. Never famous or infamous but full of thoughts and opinions no one's going to read or listen to and that's okay. I'll still be here until I am old and blind and still deaf and still trying to remember the words, good, bad and lyrical. 

Her poor children. It doesn't matter what you may have thought of her but it hurts most for those left behind. Be mindful of that.

FUTURE PAST.

IRON. MAIDEN. 

Got the tickets. Andrew and PJ got the rest of the tickets. We're going as a SQUAD. With earplugs though because the first/last Maiden show I went to saw my ears ring for three days straight afterward.

Benzodiazabridge.

PJ made us a couple of surreptitious tequila screwdrivers for dinner, under the guise that whether it be allergies or covid, we will amp up our vitamin intake and the rest seem to have bought it as I am super-extra medicated today and so the evening probably won't end well but the day started alright but then went downhill so quickly. I tried to distract. I pulled out every favour card I had, playing them in turn, a full house, four kings and then the ace. I bargained a ride to the plant shop and bought lavender and barnsley. I bargained for coffee and got homemade. I bargained for sleep and found only darkness and I bargained to keep my ghosts, the only reward being grief in return. 

The ghost crept in close, breathing his cool breath on the top of my head and I checked out. Not every day is going to be a good day, not every step is forward. Sometimes no distractions work at all. The pharmacist had the answer. Pretty sure we keep her in business because Lochlan won't rely on the old doctor or the younger one and brings his own list to the party. 

So yes. Right now you could shoot an arrow through my forehead and I'd probably thank you. 

I still want that lobotomy. Medical care takes so long here.

Absent. Minded.

I had a supplement in my water today for mental energy. Not sure if it's supposed to be obviously but I do feel as though I have given myself a treat so there's that. By treat I mean being kind to myself. Self-care or whatever. It was lemon iced tea flavoured but plant/mushroom based. Not sure about buying it on the regular but August or Duncan always has something like that around. I also bought flavoured herbal teas since I stopped drinking tea over the past year but I love tea and so I'm going to get back into it. 

Lochlan brought me a whole bag of tangelos and a reverse colouring book out to the gazebo today. It's sunny and dry. Jacob is stretched out on his back in the grass, soaking up the sun. Bare feet, shirt unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled up, jeans so soft and ancient they are like a fine cotton. I don't know if his skin will darken into a tan or not anymore. I can't remember. 

I also have a glass of wine that PJ brought me. To settle, he said. He's a big proponent of using liquid fixers to bring things down a notch and believes that alcohol as a depressive serves a grand purpose to quiet, to lull. He's not wrong, though it's frowned upon. 

I am also in jeans and bare feet today. Messy pixie cut, new linen button up shirt to test the fabric. If it's cooler than what I have now I will buy more of these shirts. If not, it's still a natural fabric and will be so comfortable. I had a whole host of torso touch ups yesterday and am hurting badly today but I refuse to admit it out loud. Lots of places coloured in and recoloured, some older work fixed up, some new work added and a lot of laughs while I cried from the pain. It looks beautiful. I don't know how much more I can take. 

It's my turn to make dinner too. I think french dips since they are easy and hugely popular. Then salad the rest of the week because it's going to get super hot. I don't like the heat. Fun.

I watched Obsession so you don't have to (unless you want to, that is, but honestly it's...uh...not great).

 Netflix is a never-ending Christmas morning for me. There's always something to uncover or fire up, always something new and surprising, always something I want to see, plus a host of comfort-viewing if that's what I want but rarely do I rewatch anything at all. 

(Disclaimer: I bought some stock in it this week so if I tout it here can I inflate my values? Worth a shot.)

(Wait, nevermind. Martha Stewart went to jail for that, didn't she?)

(I also have stocks in gold, copper and a heaping pile of tech, plus an equal pile of ETFs. Caleb and I are still in a mad competition to see who is smarter. He will win but I am more clever and far more logical.)

So back to Obsession, which is a fun story for the whole family on what can go wrong if Dad decides to pursue his son's fiance, after said fiance all but jumps on Dad FIRST. Everything goes wrong and this was a loosely-written cautionary tale built on an unstable foundation around some silly sex scenes and a solid amount of full-frontal nudity for Thorin Oakenshield (AKA Richard Armitage, who must have lost a bet or something.)

(It's based on a book called Damage by Josephine Hart. A woman. Not a man. It all makes sense. It's fantasy.)

The most smashing of all was the fact that every time they had sex it lasted less than four seconds and still they managed to gasp and sweat at the same second (the last one). I want to know what drugs they took to pull THAT off and also? Four seconds is not long enough. It was the same vibe as seeing a couple of scuba divers in trouble share a tank. The relief of the breath and then back to counting. 

Hilarious. So hilarious. And then, well, no spoilers but let's just say Thorin was set up to be an extremely accomplished human being and a highly respected one, and I can see him throwing it all away just because some stupid twit showed him her twat and then told him that she 'surrendered' to him. 

You really don't understand a lot of men then, do you? Dalton laughed, but he did so nervously. 

Oh, I do. That's the problem.

Narrator: As it turns out the ghosts were there all along.

I put all of my diamond rings in a little pottery bowl beside the kitchen sink and when I remember, I put them back on, but this is a safe place for them when I am washing dishes, about to head out the side door to do something like recycling or fetch a package from the deep freeze in the garage or about to exit through the patio doors to do a little lawn cleanup/sunrise gardening or even better, hell-bent on throwing my tiny body off a high cliff into the roiling sea.

Everyone says it's fine to wear my best jewellery and just enjoy it. Nah, fam. Missing stones, broken claws and bent shanks aren't my thing. It can wait safely in the little pot I made just for that purpose and also to hold the dog's Trazadone. I feel you, puppy. Lochlan keeps my tranqs upstairs by the bathroom counter but the result? Precisely the same. An agreeable sort of sleepwalking, a casual coma, if you will. 

Jacob doesn't think that's funny. 

Well, you're not here, are you? 

He was my biggest champion. Literally and figuratively, fighting off the shady whims of the boys who always had their best interests at heart first but mine a close second and sometimes I think that they were more relieved than sad when he flew. 

Of course they were. Don't be naive. 

Oh, I'm the least naive person in the world, pretending to be the most naive. It's called self-preservation and again, if you knew anything at all about that, well then you'd still be here, now, wouldn't you? 

He bites his lip not to swear his invisible words in my face while I take my sweet time stacking my rings back onto my finger. 

Where are you going?  

To jump off the cliff. 

The water is two degrees. Can't you go in the pool?

So is your heart. And my skin hates the chemicals in the pool. You know I prefer the ocean. Everyone does.

It's not my heart I'm worried about. 

Hey, mine's broken too if that's what you mean. Can't wreck what's already wrecked. 

Where's Ben? Jacob is starting to mildly panic. He always tried to keep it from me the way a parent tries to with a small child. 

I dunno. 

BRIDGE! 

I hear Lochlan from the orchard and Jacob rolls his eyes. He still here? 

I nod with an evil smile. It makes me laugh, that Jacob reduces Lochlan to a lame joke, as if that would work. 

HERE. I shout back. 

Want to swim in the sea? Lochlan bursts through the door. The water's like three degrees. 

Yeah. Just let me take these off. I pull all the rings off again, pile them in the little bowl and stick my tongue out at Jake for good measure.

Never ever change the song, if there is one.

Today is laundry and mending and Jeeper Creepers sequels (just...hahaha NO) and electroform hobbies and gingko leaves and climbing ladders and plant-triage and listening to some of Lana Del Rey's new album but not all of it. I don't like her falsetto and I freaking adored the Norman Rockwell album and so this is hit or miss. I had coffee and an ice cream sandwich for lunch. The kitten has worms. I am doomed but in a casual way. The house is clean but we track in a fine layer of cherry blossom petals every hour on the hour, it seems. I'm making a couple of hexagon cardigans for Ruth and myself. I'm watching Love is Blind season 4. I'm baking bread and finishing projects and it's light outside until almost eight and it's amazing. 

I had two incredible nights with my CPAP machine, a love like no one else, breathing air into my lungs after Lochlan and Ben take it away. They are  jovial and patient and settling it at last. The Collective is aging, mellowing and finding comfort at last, it seems. It takes forever, it's like a shifting mass of emotions and events. It never stops. And we are learning about each other every day, every hour sometimes. 

I worked today. I scrubbed and polished and I went above and beyond and my boss forget he gave me a raise and paid my old rate. I don't know if I'm going to keep doing it. I don't love it anymore. Did I ever? Not really but it's also an easy way to say I work without working much at all, save for a highly physical few hours a week. It's not glamorous or dignified but it's honest and Lochlan always taught me that was the best way to do anything, if you had a choice. 

He meant the hard way, of course but I understood that part.

End of the road towns.

What's happening, Bee?

I'm moving to Tahsis. 

Where is this?

I show him a few pictures. It's about six hours from here. North of Tofino, mostly. 

Looks like Norway. 

It does, doesn't it? It's the fjords.

The locals won't like you. 

I'll buy their affection. 

That never works out. 

Which house are you looking at? 

Something private. As always. I am planning to move again. The Collective has run its course, I fear. We all scatter to our corners, do our own thing, meet up for meals or major moments, and otherwise I think everyone is about to or currently having a midlife crisis. Again.

What will you do there?

Throw pottery and endear myself to the people. Learn to fish properly, without anyone losing an eye. 

Ah. Buying a boat?

Of course. 

Caleb nods. Want company on your adventure? 

No, I want to go alone. 

Last time you were alone you went crazy.

Funny, since last time I went crazy I wasn't alone. Nope. I'm good.

What about Lochlan?

He may visit. 

Caleb laughs, albeit nervously. What will you eat?

Duh, fish. 

Do you even like fish? He laughs, more confident this time. 

Not really. Sometimes. Depends. 

Maybe you need to find a closer spot. 

Maybe I do. 

I'll help you look. 

No, as I said before, I'm good.

Nice guys.

I was so on board with Promising Young Woman until the stupid trope of lip-syncing in the convenience store/pharmacy/wherever. God. I freaking love musicals, like more than your average person and can do the entirety of Cats, Miss Saigon, Phantom of the Opera, Evita, Rent, West Side Story, A Star is Born and Grease (and more, probably) without pausing to think about the lyrics to the songs and yet if someone starts up a song in the middle of a movie randomly I am SO offended. The first time was Stepmom. The whole singing-in-the-kitchen in a happy moment while the music swells from the radio to surround the film watcher? 

NOPE. HATE IT. 

(This one issue just took over and so I have no social-political rant about the themes of the movie itself. Let's just say pretty much all of my boys were horrified from start to finish by how they all think they would be nice guys too. Until they aren't. Or weren't, I guess.)

Ben and I went for a long walk in the pouring rain this morning so I could forage for sticks to make my own crochet hooks and toggle buttons for sweaters. I am going to give away my sewing machine and stick with what I truly enjoy. I always hated machine sewing anyway. I took a long break from my own crunchiness and now I feel it coming back in tiny puffs of magic just around the edges. Or maybe the long creativity drought has ended. Ha. 

Probably not but I clocked eight full hours on my CPAP machine so things are looking fucking fine today.  

So fucking fine. Watching I See You now. Will report tomorrow.

Pretenders.

Blessings on Ostara, Dear Readers. It's been a productive one for me. 

I worked this morning and noticed someone else had cleaned the windows. Thank God because my elbow hates doing it and I was supposed to do it today since it's warm and rainish and not going to snow for at least a few days. 

I got a raise of 25%. Go me. 

When I got home I brought coffee and then did the floors and then Lochlan and I began the arduous task of trimming back the grapevines before they begin to bud so we can control the extra vines and get the best bang for free. We made a little wine this winter and we'll make some more next winter. I opened a bottle of cherry wine to have with dinner. I've made pies for shepherds and plenty of them and so it will be nice. The wood is laid in the woodstove for a fire tonight and it's supposed to rain. I've lit the last winter candle and plan to move on to the next color tomorrow. The winter ones were red. The spring ones are silver and cream. I'll never buy red again but they were nice all the same. 

Henry loves Shepherd's pie. He's been talking so much about learning my recipes and he watches what we're doing and helps so that when he moves out he can make his favourite meals. My heart pings all the way to my knees every time he does that and I spend more time collecting the tiny pieces of myself that get chipped off all the while chirping about secret ingredients like garlic or basil until I can disappear around the corner and have a tiny cry. I don't want him to feel guilty. You raise your children essentially to leave you, to become independent. It hurt in the weirdest way when Ruth moved out, like the dread of homesickness or the want to turn back the clock to appreciate time just a little more. It's a whole new grief of a completely different kind and I hate it but I welcome it, a job well done, a change in my whole life, a landslide, if you will, apologies to Fleetwood Mac and all. 

Life is so much harder than most people let on. Are they asleep? Medicated better than I am? So much more organized and able to function and deal with every curveball, every fucking bat to the head that they take? Why am I not like that? 

On the upside, the garden is ready. Some day it will be above eight degrees at night and that's when I start to get excited about stupid things like herbs, vegetables and my beloved gigantic dwarf perennials and you will get to hear about that because I don't want to talk about boys lately.