Samhain

Partial reprint with some new stuff mixed in, just to keep you on your toes.
~~~~~
Samhain. All Hallows Eve. Hallowe'en. Halloween.

While little (and not so little) people are out extorting candy from strangers (On the one night a year Mum and Dad aren't telling them NOT to take candy from strangers, and isn't that a mixed message?)(And if you don't think it's extortion, think about it - "Give me a treat or I'll play a prank on you" is exactly that - extortion), more than a few pagans are spending the evening in an entirely different fashion.

Samhain (pronounced "sawin") is sometimes called the Witches' New Year. It's thought to be the time of year when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, and so best suited for speaking with our dead, with those who passed on in the previous year. On Samhain, our living God dies, and until he is born again on Yule the Goddess and all the world mourns him. Poor Goddess, carrying her child alone for the next two months - throughout eternity she must suffer this loss before she can know her joy once more. Don't worry if you don't get it - it's a cyclic thing, a nature thing, and a deeply, weirdly Pagan thing.

Some will have large meetings, solemnly chant and circle the fire, call upon the gods of old. Some will dance wildly around bonfires, drumming, singing, shrieking, leaping the flames, looking for all the world like the imps and devils we were once purported to be. Some will just hand out candy and let the night pass, and some will put out the lights, draw the blinds, and pretend not to be home. A few (Pagan and non) will look for and find trouble. Most will feast, drink, and hold the dumb supper - the meal placed out for the those who've gone through the veil - whether alone or in numbers. These days, none who are truly Pagan will sacrifice anything more than a glass of wine and/or a plate of food to the fire, the earth, the old gods.

This year I don't know who will be hanging about - Mum, for certain, Someone, me. T has Bird but will bring him home in time to carve a pumpkin and go trick-or-treating (I am hoping both in out neighborhood and in one where there's a bit more action...it's gotten a little lame here). I don't know if anyone else will be about - I haven't been a proactive with the invites and folks are busy. The house is a little messy, but it'll do. At least one room is clean - the baby's. I have a few pumpkins to carve, one each for me, Mum, Someone, and Bird, plus a few small ones to be made into puree for cakes later in the year.

Of course we'll roast the pumpkin seeds because the baby needs them to live I adore them.

We'll carve pumpkins, the lot of us, and nosh the snacks I've put out. I'll roast the seeds and may even share them. At dusk, we'll light the jack-o-lanterns and take the kids (or the kid, anyway) out for their bit of begging.

If the night is fine, we may fire up the outdoor fireplace and sit out on the drive reminiscing about the past, about family and friends long gone but not forgotten. I may or may not mull some cider and have some cups to ladle out portions for the adults trailing the kids who will start coming around soon. Heh - come and drink my Witch's Brew - you won't fly or turn into a newt, but it'll take the chill off. I may or may not have a bit of whisky or rum to add medicinal value to the drink.

I will make a special dinner for Samhain night. I don't have anything traditional - this year it's a crockpot roast, potatoes, carrots, and pumpkin spice cake with cinnamon spice buttercream icing. I try to make something that my ancestors or anyone I've lost in the previous year would like to eat. The first portion of each item is carefully plated and placed at the head of the table or on the altar. A bit of whatever's to drink will be placed with the laden plate - probably whisky for Snake and cider for B (she just got her one-year token before she died).

Later tonight, after we've eaten, handed out candy, taken the kids out for some socially sanctioned begging, we'll take food and drink down to the woods and leave the contents for our ancestors. We may or may not name them. We may or may not sing a song for them. We will honor them, wish them well, and remember. We will ask their blessing in the coming year. It will be short, but heartfelt - we don't need a lot of ritual, these days, just a few quiet minutes with our Gods.

It's an odd hodgepodge of a night - some modern traditions that were founded in the old, and some straight from the days (and nights) when our people could be openly themselves, could worship the gods of field and wood, or river and rock, without fear of censure or death.

Blessed be those who have gone before; blessed be those who live now; blessed be those who will follow after. The wheel turns once more, and blessed are we who turn with it. Blessed be.

This year, I celebrate: one year ago, Someone made his first visit to Casa de Crazy, began the process of coming Home.

This year I honor: Aunt D, who passed last spring; my friend Snake; my friend B, and old friend from the track who died suddenly and unexpectedly last month; my grandfather, who passed many years ago but whom I still miss.

Oracular Gratification

T has Bird until tomorrow afternoon.

I'm spending part of today at Border's in Buford, telling fortunes. I may or may not make any money at it - I don't charge, but rather accept donations. While I'd like to make my (hah!) fortune at it, I usually make just enough to pay for a round of coffee.

My friend S will be with me. If we don't do anything else, we'll sit and gossip for a few hours.

Either way, should be fun.

Later, I'm going to drool over new cell phones and maybe replace my poor, broken, little blue sweetie. Now it's not only missing the flip-plate part, it doesn't ring when I receive a call...so unless I'm looking at it when it rings, I have no idea I'm missing anything.

The party never stops around here...

What're you up tot his weekend?

Just...Breathe...

Back in '09 (when the world was new and my knees didn't creak), Someone posted this on his blog. It made me cry...and miss him (he didn't live here, yet)...and wish he was here. I played it until it echoed from the timbers, until I heard it in my sleep, until it whispered through my days...

Sometimes I forget to breathe, so caught up in the moment am I...

When Someone holds me, tucks my head into his shoulder, wraps his arms around me...oh, how I love to breathe him in, his scent, that indescribable something that is HIM. I am comforted. it's the absence of that touch that hurts, when we forget and are caught up in momentary occurrences, anger that will pass because anger cannot be sustained forever...and why would we want it to be?

"Oh I don't want to hurt, there's so much in this world to make me bleed..."

Yeah.

People are...odd. Difficult. Stupid. Just plain mean.

So caught up in their own moments, so caught up in their own hurt...they parcel it out, little bundles of ugliness meant to distress, to bring others into their circle of misery.

Last night, Casa de Crazy was hauled into other people's misery, and we forgot to breathe. This morning, we've found our balance again...we're breathing...

And through it all...we're loving...even when we're in our moments, bound up tight and choking on thoughts, words, hurt...we're loving.

Not That it Matters

I was attacked three times tonight. Not physically, but it didn't hurt any less.

First by someone nameless, faceless, who sent my ex-husband an e-mail meant to anger him, meant to cause him to call and make accusations, to infer that I don't care about my son, that I don't care about my word, that I am selfish and a liar.

Second by my ex-husband, who called and was accusatory. It doesn't matter that I spoke the truth, that I own my life and my choices, that I always have, that I never lied to him. He believed the words and intimations of someone else over me and made me a villain where there was no villainy.

Third by Someone, who was part of the accusations - unjustly so, might I add. He was hurt and angered and lashed out...not by striking me, but by withdrawing, pulling away, leaving me alone to struggle with my hurt. Just when I could most have used a loving touch, a kind or gentle word, a supporting presence...I was given hard bitterness and cold loneliness.

In all three cases my words...these words I'm supposed to be so good with...these words which are supposed to have such power...were meaningless.

It didn't matter that the person who started this knew better and could simply have spoken to me about their assumptions. They chose to go another route, to cause as much pain and strife as they could. It didn't matter that T should have known better, that he should have known I would not let my son come to harm. Despite all he knows of me, he chose to believe the worst and force me to defend myself against an accuser whom I could not see. How can I defend myself against an invisible attacker?

As for Someone...whether he meant to or not, he made it clear that he didn't want any of me or my words, not in the slightest.

So I went downstairs and began working on the baby's quilt, seeking solace in the familiar, in something hopeful.

I cried and could not see the ruler or the rotary cutter. That blade is sharp, wicked, and I had to cut carefully or ruin the fabric I can't afford to replace or cut myself. I nicked my finger, wiped my eyes, kept working on it.

Bird came down several times, once to say goodnight and once to bring his inhaler down because (he didn't know this) I was crying so hard I was choking on my breath and started coughing. He thought maybe I should have his inhaler to use if I needed it. Bless his sweetness...

I have not eaten dinner - frankly the idea nauseates me. I have not taken my evening medication - I have to eat dinner to do that. I don't honestly think anyone gives a damn right now...and I'm having a difficult time mustering any give a damn, myself.

I'm thinking maybe I'll just stop speaking, stop singing, stop making noise and sounding my yawp...because no matter how hard I try, no matter what I say or do...people will persist in twisting my words, twisting my integrity, making them into barbs and spikes with which to pierce me, and I'm sick to death of all of it. Why should I say anything when it'll just be called into doubt over and over again?

I'm hurting, and angry, and tired of all the stupidity, tired of people assuming the worst because they can't fathom simple honesty, because if they are liars and manipulators, I must be, too (despite continued evidence to the contrary). My gut hurts, my head hurts, and my heart hurts, and I feel alone and empty...and clearly, clearly, it doesn't matter.

What With Upcoming Elections and All

I thought I'd post this again:


Feel free to share...I know the creator and lent my voice to some of the harmonies.

Just a Day

I had unsettling dreams this morning - murky, amorphous, shadowy things that eluded definition, slipped from my mind's grasp without leaving more than a damp, fog-kissed sense of unhappiness and loss.

Here and there were glimpses of small fears, unreasonable but no less real - something happening to the Evil Genius, to Mum. One moment when Someone was gone, just...gone...without a trace, leaving me bereft. Loss of the baby.

It was a gloomy morning when I woke, dark and cloudy, rain falling in sheets and blankets, thunder rolling along, bouncing from the walls and rattling the bed frame. I lay quietly awhile, trying to shake the sticky cobweb fragments of dream from my mind. I swear, I could feel Someone holding my hands in his, smell him, hear his sleepy murmur in the half-awake place that isn't here, isn't there, isn't anywhere. Comforting.

I spent the morning running errands. Went to Target and bought a rack with bins for the baby's room. Bought some hangers in hope to soon have clothing for them - wee pink ones! Drove through DQ and got the Evil Genius and me ice cream cones.

Spent the afternoon cleaning out the baby's room - it's been Bird's play room and general storage for a while. Cleaned out the closet and found, much to my surprise and delight, several useful baby-type items - a Bopy pillow, a back/front carrier thing, Bird's old baby-gym/play mat (the John Lennon one, no less), some toys from his infancy. Assembled the rack, put the bins in. Hung a few pieces of clothing my friend K found at a thrift store and couldn't resist. The room is completely the baby's, now...I just need to scrub the woodwork, hang a piece of art that K brought back from her Vegas trip, and wait for the promised crib to arrive (via Someone's Mom and sister, who are bringing it down sometime soon - his sister had twin girls who never used their cribs, so we scored one heck of a hand-me-down!). I hope to make the quilt soon, too.

I feel better.

Now I have to fly out the door - Someone is almost home from 'Bama and I need to go pick him up. I hope he likes the new trash cans (a wonderful gift from Mum)(yes, I'm weird), the new microwave (because I killed the old one, and then it got left out in the rain because I didn't know it was going to rain and thought if I put it by the street someone might come along and rescue it, maybe fix it, and have themselves a useful appliance)(just 'cause I can't fix it doesn't mean it's really, truly, all the way broken - I'm not exactly ept with tools and gadgets), and our little girl's room...

Enter the Vortex

I wrote a bit about last week's string of events that made up one big cluster-fuck sundae for Someone...but the fun didn't end there.

Friday, Mum came down to stay so she could hang with Bird while I worked. She got all the way to Casa de Crazy before she realized she forgot her medication and had to drive back home to get it. Ouch.

I had a doctor's appointment in Friday afternoon. They have a clearly posted "no children under 12" policy. It says children are not permitted in the office - not the waiting room, but in the office. I have often had the Evil Genius with me in the waiting room - he's always hung out with Someone while I went in to see the doc. This time, I didn't have Someone, but I brought books and a bottle of water, and it wouldn't take more than a few minutes with the doc, so I figured I could settle Bird in and it'd be fine.

When I approached the counter to sign in, the nurse/tech/office lackey beckoned to me. "We have a no children policy" she hissed. This is an OB's office, by the way. No children, huh? I said I knew, that he would wait there on the couch when I went back to see the doctor. She frowned. "No, he can't even be in the waiting room."

I said "You're kidding! I've had him in here lots of times!"

"Well, we must not have seen him." Was her rather snotty reply.

WTF? We've been seated right in front of the counter before! Not caring to argue, I said I'd have to change my appointment, then. For several minutes she asked me for information...then told me I'd have to go over to the appointments desk. Double WTF? Why'd she just waste all that time??

I sighed and headed to the appointments counter. All this time, Bird was sitting quietly, reading his book. You would never have known he was there!

The sweet young woman working the appointments desk asked how I was. In a sugary voice I said "I'm having a craptastic day and it's just getting worse. Thanks for asking, though!" She smiled uncertainly and asked how she could help me.

"I need to change my appointment."

Another recitation of my information followed. She gave me a puzzled look. "Your appointment is at 2:15...you can't wait?" It was a few minutes past two by this time.

"No, ma'am, I can't - I have my son with me, and apparently he can't even be in the waiting room, so I need to change my appointment, please."

"Can you come back later in the afternoon?"

Umm...as he'll still be my son later in the afternoon, no I can't come back. Urgh.

"No - I'm a single, home schooling mother and I don't have child care, so he has to be with me, but since I can't even have him in the waiting room, I'll have to reschedule, please."

She made me a new appointment.

I plan to take this up with the doctor. I understand not wanting young, fidgety kids in the office. I understand not wanting disease riddled youngsters spreading their plagues around an office full of pregnant women, infants (who ARE allowed if they're contained in carriers), cancer patients, and assorted other folks.

But a healthy, quiet child? There have been alleged adults in that waiting room who were rowdier.

I have asked them before what a home schooling parent is supposed to do, and they've shrugged and chuckled. I'm not accepting that response this time. I really want to know...what the hell am I supposed to do, leave him in the van with a box of Cheerios and a bottle of water and hope no one calls the cops? Considering that I've had to wait for over an hour past my appointment time to see the doctor, in the past, I don't think that's a feasible option.

Yesterday was ok - a few follies on the track, but considering the number of Porsches we had out there (this was a Porsche Club driver's ed weekend), it wasn't too bad...just enough to keep us slightly behind schedule all day.

Then this morning, I was trying to make my breakfast and somehow managed to kill the microwave. All I wanted to do was nuke some biscuits. The microwave had other ideas, and wouldn't open. The door was stuck shut! I tried asking nicely, pushing the latch again, all sorts of things...no dice. I had to get to the track, so I forwent my hot breakfast and snagged a banana. This evening when I got home, I tried again to fix the trouble...to no avail.

I resigned myself to being nukerless, but Mum had other ideas...so off to The Evil Empire we went. Casa de Crazy is now the proud home of a new microwave, about the same capacity as the old one but taking up a bit less space.

We don't get a tree through the roof, or a car through the living room wall. We don't have floods or fires (knock wood). No...we have tiny, niggling little things constantly piling up on our plates.

Mum has decided that it's not Someone and it's not me...it's the house that's a vortex of doom. Enter at your own risk!

So...how was your weekend?

I Didn't Know They Did That in Alabama

Someone is off helping PJ at some Alabama Ren Fest for the weekend.

Can they even spell "Ren Fest" in 'Bama??

I was supposed to do some sewing for PJ this week, but managed to do almost nothing useful instead, for two main reasons - first, because Monday evening something crawled into my respiratory system and began to wreak havoc (and is still doing so), and second because my sewing machine decided that nylon lined pleather is hateful and refused to sew any of it. In the machine's defense, it's used to lovely cotton fabrics and I can't blame it for finding that synthetic crap material to be less than ideal fodder.

Sigh.

I did cut pieces for a number of small belt pouches...but couldn't stitch 'em together here at Casa de Crazy.

We went down Thursday afternoon to help PJ load up the van and so I could drop Someone off (so he wouldn't have to leave a truck parked at PJ's all weekend), so I brought the pieces of fabric with me and finished 'em there...but not after we had the chance to compare notes about our respective days.

I can sum it up with this: Our vocabulary list for Thursday has two words on it - "cluster" and "fuck". Can you use them in a sentence, boys and girls?? I knew you could.

Whew.

Let me give you a sampling of the day: We were to meet PJ at K's house to pick up K's van. trailer, and whatever she was sending to the Fest (she isn't going, but PJ agreed to take her merchandise). I tried to sew pouches until the last minute while Someone packed. We would have left on time, but we kept forgetting things and having t run back into the house.

When we got to K's, she told us that she couldn't find the trailer keys so PJ would have to cut the locks off and buy new ones. Meanwhile, I called PJ for an ETA and was informed that she just discovered that her basement had been flooding for several hours thanks to an overzealous toilet. She was up to her ankles in water and was a mite busy.

K sent us on to PJ's, sans her van and trailer because PJ was going to pick them up later. I wondered why we didn't just take them right then, but figured there must be a reason. Next time I'm asking, because...

We got to PJ's and learned from her mother that she'd just left with D to pick up the van. We asked why we didn't just bring it and were told it was because they thought we were in two vehicle and they didn't want us having to leave one behind. Umm...huh...whoopsie...

I started sewing.

PJ got to K's, collected van and trailer, and returned to her house. En route, K called her and reported that E (K's husband) had a spare set of trailer keys, which was a good thing because the locks on the trailer? Bulletproof, apparently, and un-cutable. Without keys, they were going to have to leave the trailer behind or use a can opener to get into it via the roof! K would bring them right over.

A few minutes later, K called PJ and let her know that E had taken the kids in K's car, leaving his truck (and the trailer keys) with K. The truck is a stick shift, though, and K only drives automatic. Aww, dang. Out PJ went to collect the erstwhile trailer keys.

Meanwhile J was sewing buttons on belt pouches as fast as she could, but her hands were paining her, so I offered to finish sewing 'em and then do the buttons. I had to cut off all the ones she'd done, though, because she hadn't done them the way PJ wanted 'em. Poor J...all that work for naught.

While PJ was off fetching keys (and pizza for dinner because by this time it was getting late and we were all a mite peckish), Someone was hauling equipment to the driveway to stage it for loading. I kept sewing buttons.

PJ got home, and luckily the trailer keys worked. I got the belt pouches done. PJ's basement may never be dry again, but at least they stemmed the tide.

I got home late and despite nearly running out of fuel.

And Someone? Looks damn good in my old black RenFest boots - I extracted a promise from PJ that she would photograph him all dressed up in Renny garb...whew...look out, 'Bama...

Because It's On My Mind, That's Why

Brace yourself...more thoughts on polyamoury...

It occurred to me as I was writing those posts that I was taking a chance, risking the loss of readers, of friends (those well known and those as yet met only here in the Blue Nowhere), and even of family contact. This is an aspect of our lives that we haven't exactly advertised. It's not a secret...but like many things that can draw censure to a body, it's something we've chosen simply to live, to discuss if it came up or we were asked about it...but certainly not to wear on our t-shirts (not that I wear t-shirts), tattoo on our faces, or carry placards for.

So why write about it? Why make it so very public to friend, family, and stranger alike? Why invite confusion, disgust, scorn, anger, judgement?

Well...

In part because I use my writing to help me clarify my thoughts. And in part because I'm not ashamed of loving...and don't think anyone should be. Last summer I found myself wishing that I could love freely, love fearlessly, love without regret. It's something I wish for us all.

I truly believe that when one is honest, open, communicative, and (this part's awfully important) doing no harm to any one else involved (safe, sane, and consensual, people), there is no shame in loving.

I'll be the first to admit that my sexual and emotional histories are...ermmm...unusual. I lived a very sheltered life...right up until I didn't. In that sheltered time I was sexually and emotionally abused, silenced and marginalized. It will take a lifetime to soften the scarring from that...

Once free of my old life, I began to look around and see that there were many types of people, and they weren't all out to do me harm. Some of them loved a little differently, but they weren't inherently evil.

While I never practiced it, I was part of the BD/SM community (club secretary for a bondage club, I'll tell you about it some time) and learned a lot about so-called deviance. I learned a fair bit about traditional love and how it can flourish...and how it can imprison.

I've seen family's torn to pieces over who or how someone loves.

I don't want to hide.

A lot of the conversations around Casa de Crazy have been about polyamoury, of late...especially about Lady R and her situation, caught as she is between the beauty of love growing and the stones of tradition and mainstream thought. While Someone and I managed to find our way through what could be a very rocky shoal with each other, she is largely on her own navigating the waters.

If "love" hadn't been turned into "own" somewhere back in time, none of us would have this trouble.

If J could see how R shines when she's with him, how her love emanates palpably from her in his presence, and how it pains her to think of losing him...he would not fear her loss. He would know that she could no more move on to another, leave him behind, than she could separate herself from half of her soul. If he could see how she lights up with Someone, detach himself from jealousy enough to see her happiness, he would wish her joy in the association, in the loving, knowing as he would that she may love Someone...but J is home for Lady R, as I am home for Someone.

While it pains me to think that I may suffer loss because of this...it pains me more to think of the loss we'd all know if we had to bind ourselves up in a restrictive definition of what love is supposed to be.

Once again I find myself unable to put into words what's fizzing about in my mind...so I'm certain I'll touch on this topic again. If it's uncomfortable for you, dear reader, then I am truly sorry, and I hope you'll be patient with my need to write and write and write until I have found the words I'm looking for...and meanwhile, I'll try to give you some warning as to the subject matter so you can skip these posts entirely and move on to less discomfiting entries.

Morning Mourning

I'm declaring a national day of mourning.

Why?

You mean, you didn't know. Oh, dear...I'm so sorry to be the one to break the news...

Mrs Winner's has closed.

Wait, you don't know Mrs. Winner's?

Poor deprived soul...

Mrs Winner's is a cash-only fried chicken joint, fast food that isn't awfully fast. They serve...served...breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I adore their coleslaw, and their fried chicken, but most of all...

Sigh...

How I will miss my occasional breakfast treat - a steak, egg, and cheese biscuit. Country fried steak, scrambled egg, and cheese on a hot, flaky biscuit. Oh, my...delectable...

I have started many a long road trip with one of those biscuits and a large half sweet, half unsweet iced tea. I introduced Someone to Mrs. Winner's when he moved here, and he took to her like a swan to water - when we had somewhere to go early in the morning and there were a few ducats to spare, we got our biscuits and hit the road.

There was always something, some indefinable flavor to the biscuits, that kept us wondering. We tried to pinpoint the flavor, but it required lots of research, many biscuits eaten in the name of scientific research...

Now, without warning, the franchises in our area have closed. Not a word of warning, no indication of why a successful, fairly popular place is just...gone. We found out when we wanted breakfast on the road...and had to go to McD's instead. What a disappointment. Even the Evil Genius was stunned, and said he couldn't understand how such a popular joint (his words) could close down.

Now our only hope is that other franchises are still open...and maybe, on occasion, we can still get our fix.

Join me in wearing sackcloth and ashes, won't you??

Poly Wanna Get Interesting

When we discussed being open, being polyamorous, we didn't have much idea what that meant beyond being open to the possibilities of loving others as well as each other.

When Someone discovered that he felt quite strongly for Lady R, it prompted much discussion between us, and we came to agree on some (for lack of a better phrase) ground rules: open, honest communication at all times and with all involved; don't bring home any plagues.

Someone and I have never had difficulty communicating...or, rather, while we may struggle to find the right words and have (on more than one occasion) found ourselves frustrated in our struggles...we have never shied away from saying what we felt and dealing with those feelings.

When he knew he loved Lady R, he told me so. It can't have been easy. While I may worry that he'll leave me for another...he must have wondered if I would be enraged or hurt enough to send him packing. It takes courage to tell somebody "I love you, and I love this other person, too, equally well..." and let yourself face the consequences.

Poor Lady R...

Her partner (she is in a relationship) had said he was fine with an open relationship, but until now she'd never acted on that. She was worried about acting on it, to be honest...worried that she would hurt a man whom she loves deeply. She's not looking to replace J...and she certainly doesn't want to lose him.

She didn't tell him, at first, about her burgeoning love for Someone, nor that she had consummated it.

I will admit...this troubled me. While I feel I have less to say on the matter than anyone else involved (because I am less directly involved in R's two relationships)...it troubled me. I understand, deeply, the fear of loss...how like walking off a cliff it must feel, and how much faith must one have in one's loves and in one's self to speak anyway...

It bothered Someone, too, that Lady R had not spoken to her partner...he didn't like being a secret, didn't like not knowing how he should act, that he would have to restrain himself in J's presence (he loves not only with words, but with frequent touch, with all of himself - such a loving is not easy to curtail...like breathing with only one lung)...but he and I have both respected Lady R's need for her own process and have not pressed.

She finally told J a bit about her feelings (although I do not know if they have had full disclosure...this kind of thing sometimes needs to be eased into. Please don't judge; she risks losing not one but two loves, risks having her heart broken in so many ways. I feel for Lady R...and have told Someone that, while I hope she never has the NEED, there's a place here at Casa de Crazy for her if it's wanted).

J was hurt...and fearful...but he has not (to my knowledge)given ultimatums or retracted his offer of an open relationship. He is looking his fears in the face and owning them. He has spoken of them to Lady R. He has not, yet, had an opportunity to speak to Someone or to me about his feelings and sound us out on ours...but I am hoping that one day he will, and that he will find his fears allayed. Someone isn't looking to replace J, nor is he hoping that Lady R will supplant me. He simply wishes to follow the dictates of his heart and...love...

Our first foray into ployamoury has been illuminating for me. I am not jealous...although I have owned that I may have moments of envy, little pangs for things that they share which Someone and I do not. There are things which Someone and I share which he and Lady R will not. In the end, it is what we have that matters.

I believe it helps that I like the lady. I believe it helps that she likes me well enough. I believe it helps that all of us - Someone, me, Lady R and J - are capable of being honest with ourselves and each other. I believe that it helps that we can and will communicate and strive to understand each other. I believe that it helps that we are not looking for another couple to be co-spouses with...a whole other form of polyamoury that I am not yet ready for. Sure, I can share my beloved...but not my living room.

I know it helps that, even after this beginning, Someone calls me home...and I believe him when he tells me that it doesn't matter whither he will wander...he will always come home.

This journey isn't over...it's only just beginning. I haven't looked outside my relationship with Someone, haven't tested those boundaries yet. I don't know that I ever will...I lack the confidence that more than one person could love me this way (if I'm being honest). I can love in the abstract, and do so easily...but physically? I am still amazed that Someone can call me beautiful...especially when I see the women he has loved, still loves...how strong, vibrant, intelligent they all are...how on earth could two people have the same delusion feel the same way about me at once??

I don't regret setting out on this path, though...and look with interest to where it may yet lead.

I don't believe there's such a thing as too much love.
~~~~~
I feel compelled to add that this was written from my viewpoint...and while I strive to be impartial, things will be colored by my experiences and opinions. If Someone, Lady R, or J should happen to read and feel compelled to add or discuss anything, I welcome their words.

I left a lot out, because this was long enough as it was. If you think I jumped about, have questions or wisdom to share...tell me. It is a simple and yet deeply complex issue, and so far outside the normal experience...while I've had many conversations about the subject, this is the first time I've tried to tackle it in writing...and I feel I have not done it justice, but have done the best I can at the moment.

Poly Wanna Some More

This past Summer, Someone met another woman for whom he felt great attraction...and love. He spoke to me about it, asked if I would truly be alright with him acting on his feelings.

There's a risk in being poly - what if he finds he likes the other better? What if he finds he loves her more, would rather be with her?

What if he realizes that I am not, after all, home?

It's scary, and for that alone it would be easy to take up the cry of "Monogamy! Monogamy!!". Still...what kind of love imprisons? I'd rather know he's here because it's where he wants to be, not because he feels he can't be anywhere else.

I examined my own feelings and told him I was fine with it. This was just after we'd discovered I was/am pregnant, and I admit to some trepidation about things...but mostly because I am not lively, not light in spirit, not petite and lithe in the ways that Lady R is (Lady R I shall call her so as to protect her identity until such time as SHE wishes to make herself public). I was very aware of the dangers involved with telling one's love to go and love another, freely...

But you can't hold onto the wind, can you? Or water? Or fire? Even the earth cannot, truly, be owned...and as I hold these things sacred, why would I try? I hold love to be no less sacred...and so, let it fly free.

My Swan (for so he is, even as he is another's love/lover...he's still My Swan)(and I am his Flower, even as I may one day love others...I will always be HIS Flower) didn't want to hurt me, and would have honored my fears. I'm glad he didn't have to.

He and Lady R acted on their nascent feelings, and their love has grown despite distance and...difficulties. She thanked me for sharing. I told her there was no need to thank...how can I share what is not mine to begin with? I don't mean that to sound harsh...to sound as if I don't care. I do care...to lose Someone would be...devastating...but he isn't mine any more than the sun or moon are mine...and while their light may warm, guide, and comfort me, they belong to themselves first, and to whomever they share themselves with second...

That Someone has chosen to weave himself into the tapestry of my life is a blessing beyond counting, beyond measure...and one I am happy to share with anyone who is lucky enough to catch his eye, his heart...
~~~~~
Next - some more of our story, the ground rules, and how things can get complicated despite one's best efforts...

Poly Wanna

It occurs to me that, while I find it perfectly "normal", my relationship with Someone is entirely outside the norm.

As if shacking up and having a baby without (gasp) wedding vows being involved (although if you think the ring or the vows cause babies, then my disillusionment with the current school system holds and we really should have a talk) and our paganism weren't enough out of the ordinary, we have another facet to our relationship that I haven't much (if at all) addressed here, although he's mentioned it a time or two on one or the other of his blogs.

It's those mentions, in fact, that have caused me to realize the absence of certain information here - friends of mine who read our blogs have asked me about things he's said regarding a girlfriend.

You see, we have a polyamorous relationship.

Not that there are fifteen of us shacking up here at Casa de Crazy - although I wouldn't complain as long as everyone else did chores, leaving me free to lounge on the couch all day nibbling grapes. What do you mean, how would that be different than my life now??

Nope - here at the house, there's us, the cats, and the kid (soon to be kids).

Lemme 'splain.

Someone and I met largely because he wrote a post about polyamoury that caught my attention. I liked his viewpoint and how he expressed himself. In a later post we had a conversation about love and how it's defined and expressed in the comments section of that post. Several others joined in. It was lively, and I enjoyed it.

I was not poly at the time, because T and I were still married and, while I'd told him from the start that I was fine with an open relationship, he hated the idea and said so...so our boundaries were clear - monogamy.

I have never, in fact, been in a poly relationship before this one...mostly because I can honestly say this is only the second relationship I've been in, and while I feel quite comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of my life with Someone, it doesn't exactly make me a woman of the world, does it?

I've long believed that restricting love to one, and only one, was not right for me. I can live with monogamy in a sexual sense, but when loving (beyond the physical) is also bound up in vows and expectations, I believe the heart...fails...
~~~~~

I'm going to continue this in other posts, because otherwise it'll be too freakin' long...stick with me, won't you?

While the Swan Was Away

While Someone was out of town, I tried not to miss him too much. Yeah, no luck with that...

So I did the next best thing...tried to keep busy. Success.

He left last Tuesday. I spent the day in a sleepy fog, alternately cleaning house and sewing for my friend PJ. Tuesday night was...interesting...and largely sleepless.

Wednesday alternated between sewing for PJ and fielding phone calls from several quarters regarding the truck and its repair.

Wednesday evening was an early-ish nigh for me...I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Thursday was more sewing and then a jaunt down to Borders where Bird and I spent some quality time together. To bed early again.

Friday involved more physical labor, with the last bit of sewing and then a fair amount of lifting and hauling - I needed to load up the van with my yard sale junk priceless heirlooms and fantastic bargains so I could haul it all to the sale location (M's house - she gets better traffic than we do here at Casa de Crazy), unload it, and get it priced. Four years' worth of little boy clothing...groan. Got home quite late, went to bed even later.

Saturday we were up well before the sun and out the door - about an hour's drive to M's house and I still had items to price and we had to get the sale set up. Whew. I'm thinking about starting a petition to banish five-o'clock in the morning. Anyone else want in?? The yard sale went fine...I didn't sell a lot, so Goodwill made out like a bandit. People behave oddly at yard sales - if I ever wanted to write a paper on human behavior, I would visit yard sales and have material a-plenty! By the way...I am apparently unreasonable because I wasn't willing to sell my hardcover books for a quarter. Look, I know people buy books and re-sell them on Amazon or eBay for a nice profit...I just want' having any of it. A buck for a best-seller isn't asking too much, and I'd just as soon let Goodwill make the ducats from reselling. Home middling early, to bed early.

Sunday, up early again. M brought her little guy over so she could watch Bird while I went to a mask making workshop with Mum. It was lovely...Bird got to go hiking around the norther n part of the state and I got to go share some creative space with Mum and a whole bunch of other artistic ladies. We haven't had that kind of time together in a while, and I sure did enjoy myself. Sunday evening, I tried to wait up for Someone, who left Ohio late in the afternoon. I couldn't, though...so I went to bed and slept off and on until he got home in the wee hours.

Today has been about catching up with ourselves and the mundane world. Tomorrow it's back to sewing, doctor's appointments, more sewing...and Someone is out of town for the weekend again, this time helping PJ with a show while I work here at the track...but at least I'll be too tired and distracted to miss him...much...

I thought Autumn was supposed to be a time of slowing down...

Thoughtfetti

I'm watching The History of Sex on The History Chanel. Huh. Funny how something so basic, so primal, has stirred up so much trouble throughout history.
~~~~~
Ten years ago today I was married. Now I'm divorced and carrying my love's baby. While it isn't without its stresses, and while it isn't how I saw myself living my life when I daydreamed about my future as a child, I'm happy in ways I never knew I could be.
~~~~~
I miss Someone somethin' fierce.
~~~~~
The truck is fixed, thanks to some kind people, a shade-tree mechanic, and a few phone calls burning up the airwaves. It was, it seems, the alternator; at well over 200,000 miles and fifteen years of age, I guess it's reasonable that it finally gave up the ghost.
~~~~~
It's difficult to focus on what I'm doing when Rook is mewling piteously in my ear, crying out for a boy kitty to love her. Poor baby, she doesn't know what she wants, only that she is desperate for something...she keeps walking across my lap or stomach, licking my hands or feet, snuggling up, begging for mama to make it better. The boy kitties outside are either too young to care or terribly frustrated by our glass doors.
~~~~~
What's goin' on in your corner of the Blue Nowhere?

See-Saw...

...Marjory Daw...

Up, down.

Up, down.

Up, down.

Tiring, sometimes. A nice, even keel wouldn't go amiss around here. Really, it wouldn't.

Up...my power bill has rather mysteriously been paid. I tried to find out by whom, but to no avail. I only know that someone, somewhere, has managed to pay my rather enormous back bill. If it was you, thank you. It's inadequate, "thank you", but it's all I have at the moment.

Down...the specialist and the midwife have made it clear that we may have to have this baby early, as she's on the small side and that may mean that she's not getting enough nutrients or there's some other trouble. If she stops growing, or slows her growth enough, out she comes. They are simply trying to prepare me, but at 25 weeks, the idea is horrifying.

Up...the baby may be small, but she's perfectly well formed- I've seen her heart beating away tickety-boo, seen her wee kidneys, wondered at her brain and images of her blood flow (there's blood flow to her brain, so a career in politics is right out), and today I actually saw her "breathing", pushing amniotic fluid in and out of her magnificent if minuscule (but perfectly formed) lungs. For all it's a pain in the buttocks, modern technology can be rather grand, too.

Down...I have to go back to the specialist every week for continued monitoring.

Up...Someone made it out of the house and on his way to Ohio this morning without too much delay, despite a wealth of things that had to be done at the last minute.

Down...the truck has died, leaving him stranded on the side of the road in the dark, in the back country of Ohio, close but not quite TO the campground he was trying to reach before nightfall. He has no cell service and had to knock on some poor woman's door to let her know he was broken down at her drive.

Up...the lady was kind enough to let him use her phone so he could call and let me know what had happened.

Down...he has to sleep in the truck until morning, and then (maybe) he can hike up to the campground and (maybe) call for roadside assistance info, and then (maybe) have someone drive him back to the truck to fetch his gear so he can (maybe) have the truck towed somewhere that it can be (one hopes) repaired without costing an arm, a leg, and a kidney. Making his stay in the truck even better, Someone forgot to pack pillows (don't laugh...sometimes it's the small things that bring the greatest comfort)(well, they would to ME, anyway).

Up...it may simply be a belt or a battery cable gone wrong.

Down...it's more likely to be the alternator.

Up...at least he'll be at the campground where he was trying to go, and one may hope he'll have a nice time despite this.

Down...I am a nervous wreck over this. Someone I love is hundreds of miles away, stranded, and perfectly capable of taking are of himself.,..but I'm not THERE and he's not HERE, and it's distressing to say the least, because I want to FIX it and I CAN'T. All I can do is sit here and wait for him to call when he can.

Up...whatever's wrong with the truck, it's fixable, and no one's hurt...and the people at the campground are good folks (some of them people I've known for a decade or more) and one of 'em may even be able to help fix the truck...or at the very least may know someone who can do the repair for minimum cost.

Down...if no one at the campground can help, we'll have to hope for a kind, honest repairman, because we don't know anyone locally to lend knowledge or a hand.

Up...Mum said she would drive up there with me and the Evil Genius if we had to go on a rescue run.

Down...doing so would mean missing the yard sale I've been helping to plan, and a workshop Mum and I are supposed to take together, and that I would not finish the sewing I'm committed to finish (and being paid to do) by Friday.

Up...Pepperidge Farm cakes were on sale at the market and I got two (a lemon one and a coconut one) for the price of one.

Down...the way things are going, I'll have eaten them by tomorrow morning, because I sure as Hell ain't gettin' any sleep tonight...

What Say You?

Entropy

"...the degradation of the matter and energy in the universe to an ultimate state of inert uniformity; a process of degradation or running down or a trend to disorder..."

The driver's side mirror of my van is falling apart. It cracked a while back, and bits of it are leaving themselves along the highways and secondary roads of Redneck Central, a sparkly trail of mirror crumbs to lead me home again (although I already know how to get to Casa de Crazy from there...wherever "there" is).

The passenger side window occasionally won't continue rolling in whatever direction one wishes it too. It just...stops...and takes a break, enjoys the scenery, lets in the heat, cold, or wet for a bit. Once it's had a rest, it can be coaxed (reluctantly) to finish the job.

Then there's the funny little light that illuminates the dashboard on a regular basis - I already know it's a bad sensor, but at more than $600 a pop to replace 'em...it can stay bad for all I care. Don't panic, it's not an essential item, I asked.

The dishwasher objects to washing dishes. Sometimes it will run busily, but do absolutely nothing. Reminds me of a politician.

The clothes washing machine has developed a peculiarity. It stops mid-wash and refuses to start back up again. Always in the same place in the cycle, just before it drains and rinses. If I hit it in a particular place (always with a fist - open hand slap doesn't work), it will then start back up again and finish the job.

My little cell phone, the sweet wee blue one that I've had for ages? The flippy bit fell off it, the part that lets me answer the phone by opening it. Of course, they don't make it any more...and of course, I can't afford to get a new one...so of course I am having to eke through with my poor broken phone (Did I mention it's blue?? A lovely pale metallic blue? 'Cause it is...), which is doing its best but isn't quite the same as it once was.

The button popped off my favourite pair of blue jeans. It's not the kind that can be sewn back on, it's the sort that looks like a giant rivet that is driven through the fabric.

The french press died a few months ago, and we've been using the drip maker...emphasis on the drip. While Someone likes his coffee, he doesn't generally like it ON him.

The door to the pantry closet won't close unless one lifts up on the knob while pushing the door shut.

Light bulbs are burning out at an alarming rate around here.

How's your Universe holding up??

Secretariat

So I scored a couple of passes to the pre-screening of Secretariat last night, thanks to Blogher.

I didn't keep the original e-mail regarding the screening, but in the follow-up, they never mentioned doing any sort of review. Still, it only seems fair to write a few thoughts on the film since they (and Disney) were kind enough to hook me up with a night out.

I don't know if you could call this a compensated review or not, so, umm...insert disclaimer type language here, please. Cheers.

Mum drove down to watch the Evil Genius for us so Someone and I could have a Real! Grown Up! Date! Our second in fact. Um...are we going about this backwards, what with shacking up and getting knocked up before we started dating?

Whatever...on with the show...

We got to the theater rather early and wound up close to the head of the line. If you've never done one of these pre-screening/review screening things, a bit of advice - get there early. They always promise more passes than they have seats for so they're guaranteed a full theater. We were close enough to the head of the line that we got seats right where my OCD/paranoid self we wanted them - all the way up and in the middle.

Once we had our seats, I wandered to the concession stand and procured popcorn and drinks for a small fortune. Good thing the movie was free or I'd have had to take out a loan! What's in that popcorn, gold??

M'kay, I'll spare you my thoughts on the crowded theater...except to say the crowd was quite well behaved and no one smelled bad.

There's not much risk of spoiling the plot...the story's a matter of history. If you didn't know Secretariat won the Triple Crown, well...now you do.

Also, I called one facet while waiting in the concession line - it's a Disney film, so somebody's mother will be dead in the first ten minutes. I don't know why they do that, but it's almost a sure thing...someone's snuffing it in either the first or the last ten minutes in just about everything Disney's touched in the last decade or so.

I thought the writing was well done - good character development, especially the equine characters, without being overblown. You know it's well written when the story's a foregone conclusion and you still find yourself rooting for the horse and offering up an atta-girl to the owner. Good set/prop continuity, keeping true to the time period. Some pretty nifty camera work, with some interesting shots from between horses' ears and hooves and some lovely race scenes.

It won't be one of the mega-blockbusters of the season, but it should do solidly well. It has what a movie needs...good writing, good acting, an interesting story, a bit of humor, and a happy (if not surprising) ending.

I've decided that I wouldn't have been disappointed had I spent actual money on tickets...which, if you ever went to a movie with me you'd know, is high praise indeed. If you're looking to be entertained without any violence, bloodhsed, or general mayhen, Secretariat is a good candidate. I'll go with you if you're buying...

Sigh

I'm having one of those days.

You know...the kind of day where you can feel the world outside pressing in on you, just waiting to cave in and smother you? You don't? Huh...

It's the kind of day that looks beautiful on the surface...sun shining, gentle breeze, clear sky, clean air, gorgeous early Autumn...the kind of day when one should be outside frolicking (or at the very least, cleaning the van or the garage or some other outdoor activity).

I have errands to run...we're out of laundry detergent and I have to pay the water bill, and the outside kitties want feeding. The mail is waiting to be collected, and I need to send out the Evil Genius's attendance form for September. I've been cleaning out the Sprout's room, and there's a bag of too-broken-to-fix, recyclable toys to carry down to the trash, and I need to fill at least one bin with things for the yard sale and one with things to take to Mum's for Bird to play with when we're there. The bins are in the garage, though.

I'm supposed to go on a date with Someone tonight - I managed to score tome advance-screening tickets for Secretariat, and as I'm a girl and grew up horse-crazy, it should be a fine way to spend the evening. Mum's even coming down to babysit.

But I just know that as soon as I set foot outside this house, it'll all come crashing in on me. The sky will fall. The Universe will collapse. I have difficulty breathing when I think about it.

Sigh.

Sometimes the Crazy isn't any fin at all.

Interlude

I've always liked this song, although I admit to feeling a touch of melancholy when I hear it. Not bad for a re-make...