Apologies ahead of time.
I’m not even doing this one in my journal first, its straight to the presses. good luck, readers.
- Its Veterans Day here. My dad, my former father-in-law, all of my uncles, two of the men I have dated and cared for, old friends, cousins, these are the men and women who have been willing to do what I cannot. I don’t forget them, or their choices.
- My daughter’s birthday is tomorrow. 8 years old. My baby. The times they are a-changing. I’ll be fine.
- Its supernaturally warm here, for November and I really desperately want to believe its a totally natural ‘Indian Summer’ but its freaking me out. There is too much to freak out about, still, and I want to punch Donald Trump in his fat head. Get out already. Don’t do some skeevy ‘destroy the country’ move. Don’t. See number one. Be like that.
- I’m ducking the real work I have to be doing, and this is like day 4 of that. I have no good excuse but man, I am dodging. I’m afraid I’ll do the work and it still won’t be good enough. that’s the key.
- My kids want a real tree this year, which is giving me agita. I switched to a fake tree when the idea of going to a tree farm on my own and figuring out how to put up a huge honker and not have it be a live flame in my living room was too too much. fake is fantastic. but i concede (unlike the fucker.) that there is no smell, and the whiff of cold and Christmas tree is an honest to goodness wonder. Tomten softness and quiet, if you know what I mean, you know. I don’t want to cut anything down, I mean, really. (see #3- hello, we need trees – globally freaky weather) I will sort it out somehow. I do like to keep the damn kids happy.
- When you know you are a people pleaser and you can see yourself reacting to someone’s displeasure with guilt and self-flagellation and you can’t stop it. but if you just give yourself another 5 minutes, you can stop and think again. and then you know that time in therapy is effective after all. 5 minutes, as opposed to 5 days. win.
- One of the significant sucks about being so profoundly hearing impaired is that I can hear a sound but not be able to identify what it is, and not know where it is coming from. So, living in an old farmhouse with two animals and three children and probably a slew of mice means that I am occasionally in full twitch, trying to figure out sounds to see if I need to respond. Was that a breaking sound? Something fell. Where? Was it a person? Was it a plant?
- I took a beautiful bath yesterday. I cannot tell you how long it has been. Literally cannot. My brain shattered all over the yard in the buildup and wait of this election cycle. It is not entirely gathered up yet. Self-care was a grenade in the shed, and the walls are gone.
- I’m a little bit proud that I’ve made it this far in the month. Eleven days of writing. Chuffed.
- I’m trying to figure out a way to console my Republican friends that involves making politics personal, and its not about Orangeman, its about their serious and stable fear that Democrats are some sort of devil. I just want them to see me as a model somehow, of a different perspective, but not scary. Fear is what is running all of this. It started in September 2001, and we’ve not shaken it yet.
Love reading these. Your writing is so creative and unique; clearly you. I miss seeing you and everyone in the family, especially the kids. We have many kids growing up, changing in important ways, and we don’t get to see that, share that, and celebrate who they are becoming. It’s unbelievable that Harriet is turning 8!
I’m with the kids in wanting a real Christmas tree. The people who own the tree farms spend a lot of time growing and pruning the trees so they will look like buyable Xmas trees. It’s their livelihood, so go ahead and help them make a decent living from all their effort. Your kids are old enough that they can do a lot of the work. If not, no tree for them. Natural consequences. Are they learning how to share in household work so they’re not a drag on you and future relationship people? I know it takes effort to get their cooperation, but man is it hard to live with someone who never learned to pick up after themselves and share household work. My first husband was like that and it really wore on our marriage – until pphhhttt, no marriage.
Thanks for the commenting Judy. The pandemic has definitely limited the whole world in watching each other grow, I agree. The boys and Harriet are doing fine, they are more and more capable every day.