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...

The Calm Before

In about an hour I'm heading over to the track to set up my registration area. It's time once again for the Petit le Mans, and one of my busiest weeks of the year. Whew. I'm running worker registration again, but a few other kind folks are helping out with the hospitality aspect of things...although given the seriously truncated budget this year, hospitality won't be what it has been. Sigh.

I've got a corned beef on the stove for tonight and a relatively easy menu for the rest of the week. Bless him, Someone has offered to help with cooking and to take on the Little Dude each morning so neither Mum (who will be in the communications tower for the week as liaison, logger, and communicator for several groups) nor I have to wake, dress, feed, and transport the little fellow to the track at Ohgod-thirty AM. Whew.

Luckily, we at Casa de Crazy tend to rise a bit later in the morning when left to our own devices. There's a chance I'll be home from my morning stint before the guys are up...which means maybe I can have some fun waking Someone up catch a nap and perhaps even head over and, oh, I don't know, do something novel like watch some racing with Someone and the Evil Genius before I have my second round of registration for the day.

Bird likes to come over and "help", so I told him he could hang with me in the afternoons. If he gets tired or wants to come home, he can come back with Mum or me when we're done with our respective jobs for the day.

There's usually quite a bit of heavy lifting involved with this job, but I've told 'em that this time, I'm not doing it. I'm also going to jealously guard my time to rest. I'm not as young as I was when I was pregnant with Bird...that year, I tossed cases of water and fifty-pound bags of ice over eighteen-foot fencing and worked twenty-hour days. Not this year. I'm takin' it easy...maybe I'll have long days, but no hauling for me, thankyouverymuch.

Ah, well, time to go throw a few last minute things in the van, get the Evil Genius dressed, and then get movin'. Calm's over...

Hush

I'm enjoying a rare bit of quiet here at Casa de Crazy.

Well...almost.

I can hear the clicking of the keyboard and the creaking if the ceiling fan. Then there's the compressor in the fridge, which is barely audible. There are the birds outside and there's the rustle of cats rearranging themselves into furry little Gordian knots.

But it's quieter than usual.

Everyone's asleep. Late nights make for late mornings, and we don't operate on a schedule around here unless we have to.

I realized that quiet like this is rare enough...and in a few months, it'll be all but gone, what with a baby around and all. They tend to be noisy little things.

In a few minutes, the rest of Casa de Crazy will be stirring. I'll unload and reload the dishwasher and start running loads of laundry, maybe dismantle the train table for transport to Mum's, and the silence will be dismantled in bits and pieces by rushing, whirring, clicking, clacking, swishing, clattering...life.

So I hope you'll forgive me if this is all the post you get out of me today...because I'm going to sit and breathe in the peace while it's still here.

Some Days

Chew.

Chew.

Swallow.

Ugh.

Don't get me wrong, it's a perfectly nice apple, and there are worse ways to begin the day than with a lovely, juicy, Honeycrisp.

But today, I don't want to eat. I'm not sick...to my stomach, anyway. I just don't feel like going through the motions. My heart's not in it. My heart's somewhere down near the floor, rolling around between my feet when I walk anywhere, and completely disinterested in trifling things like sustenance.

But I don't have a choice.

Every morning, I have to inject myself with enough insulin to get me through the day. Then I have to eat. Not eating is not an option, even when I don't feel like it.

You wouldn't think someone as overweight as I am would have any trouble with the simple act of breakfasting (breaking fast?). Some days, though, I don't want food. It's all sawdust in my mouth. Swallowing takes more effort than I have in me.

But like it or not, I have to eat. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. At night, there are two more injections, and sometimes I have to eat before bed, too.

It wouldn't matter if it was just me. I could do without the medication and without eating for days on end if I didn't feel like 'em. The thing is, it's not just me. There's this poor baby, who made the daft decision to plant herself in my womb. What I want has no bearing right now.

So I'm eating this apple which deserves some reverence because it's a very nice apple and went to all the trouble to grow and ripen, to gather sunshine and rain and earth and wind and shape itself into something quite wonderful...and it may as well be a piece of wood.

You ever have days like that?

His People

I was listening to some country music a few days ago (hush), and one of the songs provoked a few thoughts.

The song?



I've had this conversation lately, about Jesus and the nature of his life, his purpose, and what he'd think if he popped in for a visit right now. Yeah, I'm still pagan...but some of us don't entirely pooh-pooh the idea of a man name Jesus who was an extraordinary man, a teacher, a healer, and an all-around decent guy. We just don't view him as the one and only son of a particular God, sent to earth to redeem us.

I don't think he'd like what he sees being done in his name. He didn't seem to be the sort of fellow who'd give a fig about who one slept with, or how often, or for what purpose. He didn't seem awfully concerned with marriage, or money, or status symbols. Temples weren't his sort of thing. He hung out with his generation's version of hippies, bums, and prostitutes. He didn't care who you worshiped - if you were hungry, hurting, in need...he answered. He embodied loving compassion and enacted it constantly.

If Jesus came back today, I think he'd be hanging out with us pagans. Yep. I think he'd be bangin' a drum at the fire, hangin' in the woods, eating, drinking, and smoking whatever's being passed around, howling and singing to the moon and stars. He'd share what he had and take what is freely given. He'd join in our potlucks, our community meals, our tent cities. If he needed shelter, it would be there. Shoes, no worries. Pants, socks, a toothbrush? Someone will have a spare to lend or give (I don't care if he is some God's son, once he uses the toothbrush, socks, or undies, they're his to keep...although the market on eBay would be incredible..).

We're not perfect...we squabble, flake, and judge as much as any group...but even when we don't particularly like someone, we won't let 'em do without.

I think Jesus would dig that.

I'm not saying there aren't any Christians who fit the bill...I know a few truly good people who happen to believe in Jesus as their redeemer. They may not always understand my paganism, but they don't throw rocks at my head, either. It's sad, though, that so many more members of his father's church, supposed followers of his path, are anything but Christian.

They judge harshly, seek to punish all who do not believe as they do, turn their backs on their fellow humans, and mistake wealth and its trappings for godliness. They scorn the natural beauty of the world they've been given, raze trees and hilltops to build monuments to the god to whom they pay lip service, edifices of brick and mortar that resemble nothing as much as prisons for the soul. They pour money, time, and other resources in these churches rather than using them to help build their community. They are focused on appearance, not substance.

I don't think they're his people.

Honestly, sometimes I think the folks who claim him as their own would lock him in the booby-hatch if he came back today as he was his first time through. You can perform miracles? Sure, sure...here's a nice room for you, and some pills that'll help with that...

Yeah, I think if Jesus should happen to return, he'd be camping in the woods, dancing at an old, reclaimed strip mine in Ohio or out in the desert in California or leaping the fire at an African bush camp. He'd be losing himself in the silence of the Never-Never, surfing the wild waves of the Pacific, climbing an ancient tree to bend with it in the wind. He'd sleep beneath an overpass, on a steam grate, in a shelter, and he'd eat at a soup kitchen, out of a dumpster, at a stranger's table where an extra place is set.

He wouldn't look at what church one claims, or what name one gives their god/s...he'd see us for who we are, down deep, where labels can't stick...his people...

Thoughtfetti

Preggo edition.
~~~~~
Why do people think "pregnant" means "incapacitated"? I am perfectly capable of lifting a bag (or ten) of groceries. When I was preggers with Bird, around this time I was two months recovered from an emergency appendectomy and still tossing cases of water and fifty-pound bags of ice over a twelve-foot fence while working twenty-hour days running worker hospitality for an international auto race. Trust me, if I'm tired, I'll rest...meanwhile, let me go about my business...please?
~~~~~
Why do people think it's OK to touch the belly? First of all, right now the only folks who can tell I'm knocked up are the people who know what my middle usually looks like on a daily basis. I still fit in my regular britches, for the love of Pete! You wouldn't usually wander up and fondle a random stranger's parts, would you? Why does a baby bump change that? It's not that I'm trying to be a bitch about it...but I'm a depressed, OCD-ing, agoraphobic, claustrophobic xenophobe...it's a kind of Hell to be out in public, let alone to have people I DON'T KNOW freakin' touching me!!
~~~~~
I'm not sleeping well at night...not because of heartburn or illness or because I can't get comfortable....no....it's because knocked up women aren't supposed to sleep on their backs (and I don't like to, anyway). So I sleep on my side. And lately, when I sleep on my side...I lose all feeling in my hands. Sleep on right side, numb right hand. Sleep on left side, numb left hand. What the Hell??
~~~~~
Why can't I remember things? It's related to pregnancy...my friends and I have all laughed over it and named it "preggo brain". I've missed several doctor's appointments because I wrote them on the wrong day in two calendars (not one...two!). I've had to reschedule several other appointments because I've made them for days when I'm going to be out of town or otherwise busy. If I don't have a comprehensive list, I will bring nothing useful home from the grocery store. If all I need are eggs, apples, and toilet paper, without a list I'll bring home Oreos, catnip, and balloons. Why? You should hear me fishing for words. I draw blanks constantly and have to play a sort of word-charades to find something as simple as "sponge". Again...why??
~~~~~
Got a call from the specialist this morning - second round of tests came in normal, chromosomes all bright and shiny and in the right places in the right numbers, so small baby is just...small. Considering a baby's usual method of egress, is small really such a bad thing?

Things I Learned in the Last Few Days

One of the feral cats isn't a "she", after all, but rather a "he". Huh.

Jackson EMC is full of the awesome and has the best customer assistance personnel (Utility Company) ever.

There is a reason I will drive straight past two other supermarkets to shop at Publix. Their pharmacy folks are part of that reason. I heart my Publix Pharmacy. They don't know who I am, online, and haven't asked me to plug 'em - they're just that terrific.

There's a church in New Orleans wherein the dedicants worship their own beards. They meet in a bar. I wonder...if someone has a prosthetic beard, are they worshiping a false god??

The first round of tests came back from the amnio and are normal. Second round results in a week or so.

The baby is, without a doubt, a girl...unless the genetic testing is wrong. There is joy in Mudville, and the Evil Genius said he was OK with it, too...he can still teach her things.

Bees do no care for lawn mowers.

Especially when said mowers park on the entrance to their below-ground hive.

Things that sound drastic and expensive to fix on Rosie the Mule (my beloved Astro van) aren't always drastic and expensive to fix. Whew.

I don't bounce back as well as I used to from long weekends and nights with short sleep.

How've you been?

Looking Forward

It's September 11, and all over the Blue Nowhere folks are writing about what happened on this date in 2000.

While I remember clearly what I was doing when I found out, and how I felt, and how the nation reacted...I'm not writing about it beyond this opening.

We've moved past our sense of unity over the tragedy and have become fractured once more by opinion and politics, and I'm just not that into those games.

Instead, I'm cleaning up the Evil Genius's toy room, bit by bit, to make a room for the baby.

The space began as a spare bedroom, morphed into my sewing room, then was transformed only last February into a room for all of the Little Dude's playthings. How did he get so many dang toys? I clearly recall asking both families to please, please not give him a bunch of toys, but rather to give books, educational items, contributions to his savings account, or playthings with some kind of skill involved (Legos, K'Nex, that sort of thing)(which reminds me, did you know K'Nex has a DNA model you can build? Holy carp, I want one!!).

There was also a ban on things that run on batteries, make noise (especially without volume control) and video games. Branded items were right out, and I made it clear that if it involved Veggie Tales, Barney, or Wonder Pets, it would never make it into our house - I would burn it without hesitation. Few listened, it seems, and now we have a room full of...erm...crap, really. Cheap plastic crap that breaks easily but can't be thrown away because he loves it and cries and it breaks my heart, so I have to wait until he's not home for a few days (rare) and bin things, then hope he doesn't notice.

He's been helping me today, sorting through train things (and a huge thank to my Mum, who said we could bring the GeoTrax up to her place and let him play with them in her loft since there's nowhere in Casa de Crazy for him to set them up, any more) and taking apart the K'Nex roller coaster. I can't convince him to let me get rid of the train table, though...sigh...it may have to have an unfortunate accident...

While I don't have anything to put in the room yet, it's only because we haven't collected the things generously offered by friends and family. There's a crib waiting in Something Carolina, and a stroller/travel system and possibly a pack 'n' play here in Georgia waiting to be fetched home. If I can manage it, I will get new dressers for both rooms - the Evil Genius's has been on the receiving end of some serious little-boy play and isn't terribly steady on its feet, but it was the perfect height for changing nappies. I'm tall, and most changing tables are too short for me to use over the long run. I'd like to give him a new one and maybe find one for the baby's room that'll suit our needs.

I want to make a space in our home for this baby.

I'm worried...and will continue to be concerned until s/he is out and squalling his/her lungs out, running us ragged and being a perfectly healthy, normal little beast.

I'm trying to curtail the fear by being proactive, by focusing on something positive, by looking forward. The past is behind me. I cannot do anything about it. I have no choice but to dwell in the here and now...but tomorrow? Hasn't been shaped, yet...so I can look at it in whatever light I choose.

Waiting Game

The following is a letter I sent out to friends and family today. I figured it could serve as a blog post, too. Lazy, me...and in need of a nap...and as I can't seem to win the lottery or do any other essential things at the moment, lazy and a nap it is.
~~~~~
I went to the doctor's today for an ultrasound...hoping to find out if we have a lass or a laddie goin' on. They wanted to check development of various parts, as well - standard stuff for higher risk pregnancies.

What we have here is a stubborn little beast. Not shy, just refusing to show us his/her bits and pieces. Grr. Yep, this is my kid.

Meanwhile, what we also have is a deficiency of amniotic fluid and a small baby. How small is small? They couldn't/wouldn't really say...but mentioned that small could mean that it's just small (I was small, my mother was small, Someone's mother was small), or that it's not getting enough nutrients, or it COULD mean chromosomal abnormalities (comforting) or developmental issues (whee), although the first trimester tests came back normal. So...I was offered the option for an amnio, which carries its own risks.

The doc wasn't going to press one way or another for the amnio. When I asked Someone, he said he didn't think anything was wrong...but that he knew I would worry and be unhappy if I thought there was something wrong and for that reason, perhaps it would be a good idea. I have to admit, he's right...I would fret...

I opted to have the amnio, because if I didn't, I would worry...and worry...and worry...because I do that. They had to sample the placenta because they couldn't find a big enough fluid pocket to draw from, and hopefully I'll know on Monday if there's anything to worry about. Not that I'll keep from worrying, because did I mention that's what I do?? Plus, how can I help it when they start throwing around words like "congenital deafness" and "trisomy..." and "retardation" and "not survivable" and "deficient nutrient absorption", even if it's just because there's a one in a million chance and they feel that they have to offer the information, just in case...?

We did find out that head, spine, and heart look fine, and that maybe, possibly, we could be having a lassie (although the angle of view and my stubborn little Sprout's refusal to make this easy meant the doctor wouldn't commit to one or the other possibilities)...and the amnio will tell us that definitively as well...

So I have to make it until Monday...and I'd be lying if I said I was calm and Zen and believed my instinct that all is well...because I'd really like to just curl up and have a good cry and then be told everything's alright. I'll have to wait until Monday for the first bit of news, then another week or so for the next round of info, and go back in three weeks for more measuring and testing and...sigh. Double sigh.

If y'all have any good thoughts or a bit of love to spare, I sure could use it right now. My Someone is calm, steady, and certain that all is well, and I am allowing myself to hope and to trust in his instincts while simultaneously being a bit scared inside (where no one can see).

Thanks for being here...
~~~~~
If the nap succeeds in perking my butt up (that's a LOT of perking)('cause it's a LOT of butt)(never mind...), I may bake cookies later...because nothing says healthy living like chocolate chip cookies...

Holes

I've been called cold-hearted before. Unfeeling. Uncaring. Distant.

I suppose I can understand that.

I'm not awfully demonstrative. I never learned how to put my feelings on display for others to see, and have always felt a bit...I don't know...ashamed, I guess...when I've let things slip. I don't mean in writing...written words are different. I can write 'em and walk away and leave 'em to their own devices. While there's an air of permanence to them, it's a more distant permanence, one I can leave behind for others to mull over at their leisure. Spoken words and actions are so immediate and tend to linger in unsavory ways long after the sponsoring emotion is spent.

Also, when I was kid, visible strong emotion was frowned upon. It smacked of histrionics and bids for attention.

Nature and nurture have combined to make of me a woman who does not wear her feelings on her sleeve...not readily, anyway, and certainly not in public. Given my druthers, I'll just keep myself to myself, keep from dragging anyone else into my nonsense.

The problem with internalizing things is...people tend to think one isn't feeling anything at all, or that one doesn't require commiseration or comfort when one is hurting. Hell, most of the time, folks can't tell that I'm hurting. I'm usually OK with that...who needs all the fuss? Life goes on anyway, doesn't it?

This isn't going where I thought it would. I was thinking about my grandfather and how I mourn him in odd moments. Some twenty years after his death, I still miss him and find an emptiness where his silent, stern, huge presence used to linger. I talk to him, to my Papa, just about every day. When I greet the sun, I say "Hey, Papa" and half the time I don't know if I'm talking to the sun or my grandfather. I never mourned him with tears and wailing and the wearing of black clothes. I've just...missed him...every day since he died.

I imagine that's how it'll be for Snake. I didn't cry at his funeral...not much, anyway, and more for the folks he left behind. But on odd days, in odd moments, I'll remember that my grumpy curmudgeon of a friend isn't here any more...that when it's storming during an event, there won't be a phone call to the tower and a gruff voice lecturing me on the proximity of lightning and how it's bad for the net and (not inconsequently)(although secondary to protecting the communications equipment) for the workers connected to the net by wires...workers who'd probably prefer not to have their brains fried via their ears due to lightning strike.

There won't be a battered old blue truck parked right next to the Emergency Vehicles base, blocking half the drive and sometimes the doorway in. No stern lectures at the beginning of the Petit le Mans about charging the handheld every night and don't forget to bring the charger back at the end!

It'll take years, probably, for me to get used to his absence...if I ever really do. And probably no one except the few of you who're reading this (bless you for your tenacity) will ever know that I do miss him...and all of my dead...deeply. There's a Snake shaped hole that won't ever be filled again...right next to Papa, and Bart, and Fred, and my other grandparents, a host of other friends, and even a few cats, some birds, and a dog or two. I'll mourn quietly and in out of the way places, unseen and unnoticed because that's how I am.

And life does go on, whether we will or no...

So Long, Snake

My friend Snake died on Sunday. I had a post quasi-written about it, but I'm not feelin' it.

I'll miss the crusty old fart.

WHen I found out, I was knee deep in Dragon Con business, helping friends with their booth, and didn't have time to dwell on mortality.

So I said a prayer and got on with the day.

Since I'm not feelin' much like anything of note, I thought I could share my prayer, for what it's worth.
~~~~~

My roots go down to the heart of creation
My branches reach high into the heavens
I am steady as the oldest stones, unmoved by time and tide
My leaves dance in the winds of fate
The music of the stars sings through me
I am strong
I am eternal
I am alive