Sunday, 30 November 2014

SMS (Sunday Morning Shenanigans).

Time to get up. 90 min til service.

It's -10, Sammy.

God will keep you warm. 

But the wind!

But you're becoming a little heathen.

Loch will keep me warm. 

Loch is already a heathen.

Ben will keep me warm?

Ben could bring you to church. He could use it.

Tell him that.

Naw. Too scared.

So how can I make it up to you if I don't go?

Bible school. Every day. Five hours. With yelling. And thumping. 

That sounds like fun. I'm in! 

You now have an hour. 

Not going to happen. I'll wait for your thumps. This bed is too warm. Everyone is still asleep. 

God is awake. 

And such a killjoy.

Does this mean you're coming?

Can I get a ride with you?

Then you have fifteen minutes or so.

Make me coffee?

We'll pick some up on the way. 

Can we get some hashbrowns too?

Are you only coming with me for the food?

Shhhhh. :)

Saturday, 29 November 2014

The white stuff.

I hate snow. Have I mentioned it? Still not finding the novelty in it one bit. And I won't apologize for that, though the Christmas lights look very pretty after dark so yes, I will admit that much but nothing more.

I started reading Mr. Mercedes last night. It's glorious. I'm excited.

Caleb called from just outside the grounds of the Taj Mahal last night too, completely overcome with emotion as I have heard happens when you see it for the first time. I never ever will. He misses me. He is beyond exhausted and pushing himself every step. Not sure this is a good idea anymore but he's at the bitter end here, flying to Spain Monday for what he calls a hard reset (total flamboyant, unintentional nerdage), because he needs it so badly. Retirement has been busier than ever and he says he'll slow down but then doesn't.

Lochlan started reading Revival, because he is further along in the Stephen King release schedule than I am, because he's able to focus on things while I flit around like a moth to a flame.

(Surprise.)

I tell him it's because he's older.

Most nights when I have time to read in bed I wind up playing games on my phone instead. PJ and I have a contest going with Henry to see who can get the highest score in Stick Hero. I'm the furthest behind. Henry is so far ahead of us now it's become funny.  We did it with Flappy Bird too until I deleted the game in a fit of frustration. My high score? 5 in both games. I send PJ screenshots every time I add another point and he ignores the messages and then after days will return a screenshot to me that's in the double digits. I give up. I think I'll read instead.

Finally when I can sleep Ben will start to snore and then insist upon waking that he didn't sleep even a minute. He is worn out too but in a different way. He wants to keep me up to fill the time but I really need sleep at some point and can't stay up all night indulging him. And boy does he like to be indulged. He's the perfect enabler to my sex addict tendencies, refusing to deny me a thing. Then Loch will be done reading (he reads downstairs) and come up looking to indulge himself and how the heck am I supposed to resist his teenage grin and those curls?

Right. It can't be done. But then Ben gets all jacked up again and I'm pretty sure the reason I hate snow is because when I'm this tired I pretty much hate absolutely everything.

Except sex.

Because DAMN.

Friday, 28 November 2014

READY (aka I eat like crap).

I am so in love.

Big Bad Wolf (new today!) and even better, Sick like Me.

Not often you see really good videos these days. These are miniature works of art.

Like me.

***

Loch, Daniel, Andrew and I spent all day shopping today. Ben's birthday is on Tuesday. He'll be forty-six. He doesn't look that old but hey, every second month it seems we are reminded that numbers grow less and less important each year. I have some special surprises planned for him for that day. Plus we needed to get moving on getting things together because here I am trying to get ready for Christmas all in around, up and over everything and everyone and though we had planned on celebrating US Thanksgiving we never actually bothered. We ordered Chinese food instead.

So best laid plans and all that. I don't want that same fate to befall his big day.

Everything is wrapped and loaded and I'll bake a big cake on Monday and make lamb chops (or rather PJ will. Ben really loves lamb and I can't stand the smell or taste of it so I'll make corn dogs too. Then it's really a party. Freaking corn dogs!

Sigh.

You just can't take the carnival out of the girl. Sometimes I wonder if Ben had any earthly idea what he was getting himself into with us. I suppose he does. When I asked him for a birthday list he said he has the two things he wants most. Me and Loch.

Oh, well then. I'll just take back all these presents then?



Thursday, 27 November 2014

Delhi tonight.

I think Dubai was a whirlwind for Caleb. It was supposed to be the second longest leg of his trip but instead he booked a half day trip to Agra to see the Taj and so sliced a day off the Emirates besides. He will not cut into his week in the Canaries no matter what. He's going to need it. He sounded appreciative but exhausted when I told him just before our conference call began that under the desk I only had underwear and thigh-high rumpled socks on (credit to Lords of Salem. I have a dozen pairs and hadn't worn them much lately but I am now) because I didn't have time to find pants in the dark but sorry if we're going to do this shit in the middle of the night thanks to his time difference then I wasn't going to be at a hundred percent. I was wearing a nice shirt (Lochlan's plain blue flannel button-down from yesterday) and I managed to flatten my pixie enough to be presentable and I asked again why I needed to be present for a strategy update and he laughed and said because I was in underwear and socks, that's why and he loves the fact that I'm committed to making sure he misses me so much he aches.

Which brought a halt to everything as I killed the call and called him privately for a health update. If he says something 'aches' then something is wrong and I knew I should have gone. I wish he hadn't gone at all and I wish he would give in already and let technology take the place of shaking people's hands.

He assured me he is tired but fine and he's going to sleep on a beach for the entire first week of December.

(Did I say I should have gone? Yeah. I should have gone. That sounds nice.)

He reestablished the call and our parties were there waiting. I had to pinch my legs to keep from falling asleep and only contributed two questions to the whole thing but they were smart questions and Caleb looked proud and then finally it was finished and I could go back across the driveway (I need to have it loud so I took the call at the Boathouse) and book upstairs to crawl up the center of my bed, passing out cold (no, literally) on top of the quilts.

This morning Ben proclaimed that my outfit was to be considered pajamas from here on out and I am to come to bed like that forever because wow.

Lords of Salem, I reminded him.

I know. Oh, how I know. he said

Lochlan, ever suspicious and rightly so, asked me where my pants were. He's been difficult the past two days. Beyond difficult. (Level 12 difficulty, actually. I function at an 8 or so, if rested. Which I'm not.)

So I told him I didn't wear any and he asked how I got across the driveway half-dressed, in the dark, in the rain. So I told him.

The same way I always do. Quickly.

It was over chowder at lunch time before he actually spoke to me again. It's fine. I lasted until afternoon coffee before I replied back.

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

I break 'em, they fix 'em (return of the Poet).

You don't want to look at me
For you will turn to stone
(Repeat after me: I can love him all I want, that still doesn't make him mine and that's okay.)

Everyone's favorite beat poet has returned to the point and we couldn't be happier. Gone is the untouchable Lizard King and in his place stands a man who isn't wearing sunglasses or smiling that stupid sexy grin. He isn't dangling an unlit cigarette out of the corner of his mouth and he isn't holding a drink.

He was sitting on the side of the bed when I opened my eyes though and I hadn't expected him until tonight. They surprised me. I got to have breakfast with Duncan (and Loch before he had to go to work!) and then he was whisked off to a meeting with Sam and Ben. It wasn't weird or uncomfortable though I felt keenly watched by all.

And that's not exactly new, so the only person making things weird is me, as usual.

They returned Duncan much the same way Ben came back. Twenty-five pounds heavier and completely unshaven. He carries it well at least and will lose it fast. Unlike his program my kitchen doesn't feature an award-winning chef or even regular meals, since it's only me and PJ who cook much of anything at all.

I didn't know how much I missed his hugs until I was in one again for the first time in five weeks. I had a hard time letting go but Sam was eager to keep Duncan on track even though the only thing he has to do is continue to get better. He says he can do it here. That we're fine. That he's ashamed he let things get so bad and sorry he got everyone riled up. He was careful to keep blame out of the picture since they are educated to take full responsibility for their own thoughts, actions and consequences.

...

He and Dalton have gone out to grab some lunch and shop for some bigger clothes. As expected, I was not invited. SURPRISE.

The world doesn't revolve around me. Right. Whatever.

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Twosday (something neat).

Because I hardly ever follow up on a damn thing and I wrote about this almost a year ago, here is my view when I'm flat on my back in the big bed.

Lochlan put the whole galaxy on the ceiling for me. The tiny fairy lights trace the path from Mercury to Pluto and back (yes, Pluto) and underneath the planets the ceiling is covered in glow in the dark stars. When we turn off all the lights, it's positively breathtaking because the fairy lights have given an extra boost to the path that the planets are one so the stars glow slightly stronger along it than the rest of the ceiling. It also reflects in the patio doors so it looks like it goes on forever.

Yes, the stars make the shapes of their constellations. Not all of them, only my favorites. He's a perfectionist.

Pictures don't do this justice. This is only Earth, Mars and Venus besides because they are right over the bed. It's a pretty big room and the galaxy goes from corner to corner, side to side. A huge lazy oval. It's fucking amazing. I fall asleep in outer space and I couldn't be happier.

Christmas crow.

Let me clarify, because everyone is clearly literate but gets a fail in reading comprehension or maybe I was too ambiguous for my own damned good. (Not sure when I've ever been on my own good side, but if I need to spell it out then I shall and then we'll move the fuck on, because he comes home tomorrow and I don't want anyone thinking I'm not fit to greet the guy.)

Here's the thing. During his time away, over the phone with all the courage of a faceless audience, Duncan said more than once that he wasn't sure if he wanted to return to the Collective. I'm not sure if he was feeling me out, testing me or just voicing early doubts. He never clarified it for me so I took it at face value.

To that end, I don't want him to come home if I'm just going to be sated, comfortable having everything as it should be and everyone home only to have him wake up weeks or days or months from now only to decide he's going to leave.

(I unreasonably ask for forever-promises on a regular basis. I'm aware it's not realistic or healthy. I can't help it. My brain needs instant relief or it goes missing.)

So don't come home and break my heart, is all.

Around here that isn't a lot to ask for. Maybe it is. I'm sorry. I understand living here within this intentional family is intense and dangerous, more difficult than easy but these boys are my family and you don't just check out so if he's going to come home only to leave then I hope he tells me up front.

That's what I meant by a test. I want him to tell me to my face that he's going to be okay here again. Like before he decided he should fall apart. He wasn't supposed to be one of those ones. He was supposed to be strong and silent and now there are doubts cast over everyone left as they seem to fall one by one. I want them to be happy, above all. If they aren't then I'll take the broken heart but please try to make it hurt as little as you can.

So PJ making me cry, forcing me to promise him I'm not going to go after anyone else was unnecessarily harsh and completely unnecessary. I should have just written what I meant instead of trying to protect myself from real life issues that I don't want to face. I know how Duncan feels. Courage is so easy when you're not being stared down. I just want to be excited and not afraid.

Monday, 24 November 2014

Can't take me anywhere and sorry but I'm not sorry.

My punishment for missing church yesterday was to spend most of this rainy Monday helping Sam around the office.

I'm only here so he can pick my brain, test my resolve and shore up my heart for the next incoming storm. The one named Duncan. I don't know why Sam worries and I don't know why he bothers standing up to Joel/Loch/Ben/Caleb when it comes to me when he could just let go a little but at the same time watching Baby Preacher jockey for senority warms my heart and I know it's wrong but if I didn't love Sam he wouldn't be in my life.

I keep trying to compare all this to Joel. Sam and Joel are the same from a qualifications standpoint now (casual counselors) though Sam has all the credibility in the world where Joel has none left but Joel isn't a part of my family. Just a part of my team.

Kind of like Corey isn't family. There's no love lost there. But Corey doesn't live on the other side of the driveway.

(If he did I might move because he scares me something awful. He's cutting. He's a bully.)

Sam has already established that I am looking forward to Duncan coming back so that everybody is home safe for the holidays and we'll be supportive and loving to him because he wants to be here and he wants to be well without being beholden to alcohol and maybe get back on track to being the coolest guy in the world.

Bad Bridget who is never going to show her ugly face in this church can't wait to have Duncan back so she can test him and see if he can handle her.

(Because he promised once that he could indeed and she still believes him.)

Sunday, 23 November 2014

LED-lined.

And I'm not seized in desperation
No steel reproaches on the table from before
But I still can feel those splinters of ice
I look through the eyes of a stranger
This morning is made up of giant Christmas trees up and lit, Sheri Moon Zombie's amazing ass, Lords of Salem hangovers and early preparations for Duncan's return.

!!!! Finally.

Also Count Chocula. I had my first bowl. I didn't like it. Ben was marginally sad at my reaction, even helpfully pointing out that the milk was turning chocolate, just like it's supposed to but that didn't help. Yuck.

Oh and church hooky because I sleepily told Sam that we would be along and then Lochlan came down and pulled me back to bed by the front of my pajamas and then he didn't have anything to hold on to in seconds and I fell back asleep afterward and they didn't bother waking me up so I missed church and then lunch too and oh, it's not even morning anymore so there is that to point out.

Oops.

It didn't help that Lochlan just lay there smiling at me. Threatening that if I set one foot on the floor I was going to get it and then I got up anyway and he pretended to get up and I ran but once I got to the door I realized I still needed to shower and change. He laughed and ambushed me in between the shampoo and the soap. Again.

So yeah. That took forever.

But I'm up now and I'm starving. Literally starving.

Caleb called from London. I missed the call and he didn't leave a message. He sent a picture of some goodies he is sending back, including Lochlan's favorite snacks that you can't buy here. Nothing like Count Chocula but too sweet all the same.

Oh yeah and Duran Duran. Because I'm amazed that I can still retain perfect recall of song lyrics I learned at ten and eleven years old but  I've been grocery shopping three times in a row and still can't remember to put lettuce on. the. fucking. list.

But damn.

(Also I can't find my pajamas now. Loch laughs and says he burned them right off me and I must have not been paying attention. Huh.)

Saturday, 22 November 2014

One millionaire short.

(I'm your slave)
This is what I crave
I'm lost, I'm saved
Caleb called last night during dinner.  We had everybody on deck including Joel, New Jake and Batman, for chrissakes and I had to bail halfway through.

He couldn't sleep. It was his last night in Dublin. He was all packed up and down to the casual outfit he had on and his laptop, ready to head to London first thing (not to the Hyatt Regency, thank heavens) for the busiest part of the trip. He again offered to send for me and be there to meet me at the airport on arrival. I didn't answer him and he changed the subject, asking me if I could send him the notes from a strategy meeting for one of the tiny little firms I talked him into funding here at home with nothing to go on other than a gut feeling. It's a test. So far so good. He admitted he needed more to do, that he doesn't have enough to keep his mind occupied and that's why he's wide awake at such a late hour. That he needed to hear my voice to calm himself down. To soothe his scarred heart.

He then tore me to shreds for not being there with him. For making him go alone. I sat there with my finger on the button to end the call and finally Ben came out and did it for me.

He'll figure it out, Bridge. Come in and finish your food.