Guitar

I bought a guitar today. It was an utter fiscal irresponsibility, but I was really blue and flailing around at loose ends. Grayson and I had packed up a picnic lunch to take to Martin Nature Park because the weather was so beautiful today. But when we got there it was closed up. The sign says they are closed on Monday (which I knew) AND Tuesday (which clearly I did not).

So, in a true funk, we headed home, and when I saw the exit to 63rd street, I just got off and headed to Larsen's. What the heck, I thought, I'm in the neighborhood, I'll just go see how much guitars are. So I went in, and they had this beautiful black starter-guitar for $150, and I bought it.

I'll have to give up food, but I'll have something new to learn, and maybe a little music to lighten my soul.

It took me over an hour to figure out how to tune it. It came with a little electronic tuner, but I had a helluva time figuring out how to use it, until I stumbled across this website that plays the correct notes. Then I realized I was trying to tune it upside down! I was holding it right, of course, but I had the string progression reverse. Yeah, I have a long way to go.

So now it is tuned and sounds beautiful until I attempt to play a chord. But I worked at it tonight until my fingers were sore, and I guess I'll keep at it each day.

I'm a bit stiff today from my time in the gym yesterday. But not too bad, so I should be able to go back again tomorrow. I'm trying to stay pretty busy. Otherwise I get a little blue. Okay, a lot blue.

I talked to my friend Jin last night, just pissing and moaning about my life. I love her like a sister, but she's too bossy to be helpful, in this case. She gave mea bunch of very stern advice I really didn't want to hear, and in the end I only felt worse. She means well, I know, but we're very different people and I'm not going to go about things the way she does. I know she cares about me, that's the best thing. She really wants me to come down to Norman to her place for New Years. I guess I'll go. I hadn't planned on it at first, but I'm sure it will be good for me. This afternoon she called again to try to strong-arm me into going. I told her about the guitar and she just said "Okay, now I'm really worried about you." Guess the purchase of a guitar is a clear sign of impending insanity.

Where's Biff? You ask. I don't know. He's got his own demons to wrestle, as I mentioned, and I don't really know if I expect to hear from him again. It's too bad. I thought we had a lot of fun together, but he just still really has his head in his last relationship, and seems – for now at least – to be too firmly lodged in the past to look toward the future. I think I was a distraction for a few weeks, but the weight of his past heartbreak was too much to keep away for longer than that...or else I just wasn't enough to chase it away. It's part of what is making me so sad the past couple of days.

Gray called today to tell me Steve is planning on showing the house tomorrow, and to ask me to go in and tidy up the kitchen for him. I was pretty short with him, which I probably shouldn't have been. But I was having a rotten morning at that point, and didn't feel like making small talk with him when I know his WoW Girl is probably waiting on him. There's just no making sense of how the human heart reacts to things. Shouldn't I wish him luck, success in love?

No. Even though now I believe that I would not go back to him; even though I've been seeing someone new of my own, I don't wish him well. I don't want him to find someone new. No, of course I don't.

Am I crazy? I think lately I am entering a whole new realm of craziness. It's disconcerting. What will be next? Nose piercings? joining the circus?

Stay tuned.

Okay, so, on a lighter note, here's a video of me taking the Christmas tree out of the house this afternoon. We call it "Championship Christmas Tree Wrestling."

Grayson's Blog

Grayson has started his own blog and would like to invite all of you to come check it out.
Here's a little video he made to announce it. And here's how to get to it: GRAYSOTOPIA



So, I'm pleased to have introduced my son to the blogosphere. He likes the idea of his words and images out there in the world. I like the idea of him finding creative ways to express himself in language and imagery.

A tedious day of errands, today. I dragged G all over Oklahoma City and Norman knocking out little tedious tasks: pharmacy, bank, post office, blah blah blah. Grayson was very patient until the very end, when we were in line at the pharmacy drive in. THEN he began to whine. He whined and bitched and moaned, half jokingly, but serious enough to begin to drive me bananas. Until finally I was struck by a stroke of genius and got the camera out, and every time he whined, I took his picture. Soon he was giggling instead of whining, and I got this funny set of photos. I love that little kid.

Freakshow, Snow Dud and Gingerale

Ladies and gentlemen, I have temporarily taken the pledge. Last night's glass of wine ballooned into 8 or 10 glasses of wine, which seems to have completely breached my emotional dikes. The resulting tsunami took out a couple of small villages. The beaches are littered with the bloated corpses of livestock and mud-covered husks of cars.

That's a fancy way of saying I got drunk and suffered a total emotional wig-out... unfortunately, much of it splattered on Biff over the internet, turning a simple breakdown into an international incident. I'm sure that getting confirmation of Gray's impending liaison with The Wow Girl (taking place, no doubt, even as I type), had more than a little to do with it. Add to this the unfortunate coincidence that Biff had upsetting news from his own emotional arch-nemesis recently, causing him to retreat just when I was hoping he'd prop up my shaky sense of self-worth. I was needy and cloying, picked fights over nothing, misconstrued almost literally everything he said, and ended up a quivering mass of jelly sobbing drunkenly into an empty wine glass. (This last, at least, Biff did not witness, since he was at a safe distance and we were communicating only through Instant Messaging. So you see, it could – believe it or not – be worse.)

Needless to say, I'm not particularly proud of this. The term "mortified" comes to mind... among other, rather less savory, ones.

But one good thing did come out of it. I had a sort of epiphany. I looked at myself, this pathetic lump of self-flagellation and loathing, and realized two things: 1) that I have a lot further to go to divorce recovery than I even dreamed; and 2) that it wouldn't have been nearly as bad without the half-gallon of wine washing over my brain's emotional centers. In other words: the wine doesn't help. I may be "self-medicating," but the medicine is, probably quite literally, killing me.

I realized that if I don't change the direction I'm headed, I'm going to wind up where I'm going. And that is not a happy healthy place full of flowers and fluffy bunnies.

So I have to get a grip. Stop drinking, take control of the choices I make, and especially stop expecting poor Biff to prop me up. The guy has his own baggage to carry, and the fact that he didn't immediately pack up and move to Alaska last night should be all the assurance I could possibly expect after that tawdry little piece of theatre. I have to get the focus back on finding my own way over this thing. And the only way out is through. Last night proved to me that there are no short cuts, and nobody is going to give me a get-out-of-heartbreak-free card. I just have to deal with it as it comes and stop pretending it doesn't affect me.

So after all the bizarre and needless drama of last night, I am grateful to Biff for showing up today. We had made plans to take Grayson and his friend John to the ballpark to go snow tubing, and then have dinner at my place. To Biff's credit, he showed up as planned, which surely proves that he is a saint. Or a masochist. I haven't decided which.

Soooo, all of this brings me to what we will refer to as "the great snow-tubing heist." I paid $13 a person for 2 hours of tubing at the Brick. Sadly, they WAY oversold the tickets, and we waited in line for more than 30 minutes for one 10-second ride down. It was so not worth a second 30-minute wait. Even the boys couldn't face it. What a dud. I couldn't believe I'd paid more than $50 for the privilege of standing in line. It was as bad as Disney, and without concessions. It wasn't even a great run. So we just came back to the apartment and the boys played Grayson's new Wii games while Biff and I lounged on the sofa and talked about our respective emotional train-wrecks. We do at least have that in common, perhaps more than anything else. Though since I seem to be, in spite of it all, some sort of crazed optimist, I like to think there's more to it than just that.

So, tonight I'm watching cartoons with Grayson and chastely sipping gingerale, pondering possible ways for me to Get a Life, save my self-respect and heal my broken heart, all without sending Biff, (or anyone else,) screaming into traffic.

Any suggestions? Anyone? Anyone?

Whine wine whine

Went out last night with my dear friend Chris Barrett, home to see his family over the holidays. We closed down the restaurant and then moved on to Othello's and closed down the bar. It was a great evening. We just blathered on for hours, swilled beer and wine and enjoyed the company.

Chris is the sole friend I have retained from high school. Well, that's not literally true. I'm sure there are plenty of old friends from high school that I would still consider "friends" if I were to see them again. But Chris is the only one I have kept in touch with and maintained a relationship with through the years. We've been there for each other through a lot. We talked about some of that history last night, and about what happens next for each of us. He always makes me feel like I've got something to offer. I'm grateful for that.

We also ran into a few other familiar faces from high school while we were out – people in town to see family like Chris was. It felt like old home week.

I once again managed to drink way more wine than is strictly good for me. But this time at least I was able to stay away from the iTunes store. Today I'm just lounging. Gray leaves town for a week tomorrow, so I'll have the dogs back for a while. He's going to see a girl he met on World of Warcraft. I knew this, or guessed this, but I finally asked him about it today when he dropped Grayson off. He confirmed it.

I'd like to say it doesn't bother me, that I've moved on and he's welcome to live his life. But I'd be lying and everyone would know it. This girl is 13 years my junior. And she must be attractive, since we know Gray has such exacting standards in that department. And she plays WOW, so he must consider her cool and fun, which I of course never was. And though he wasn't technically "involved" with her prior to our split, they of course have had an online relationship for a long time, so she was likely part of the problem. I, at least, wasn't building a new relationship until AFTER the split.

I recognize how stupid it is to feel this way about it, but there it is. Well, what are you gonna do? We make our choices, we take our lumps, and we move forward. That's all we can do. So I just put my head down and plow on.

In which I am gripped by the past and ponder the future

Okay, someone should really stop me from drinking and surfing. Last night I think I spent about $30 on '80s music from iTunes, under the influence of the movie Grosse Pointe Blank and about a gallon of red wine. I was also simultaneously firing off text messages to Biff with songs attached... god only knows what I said, I'm afraid to look at the transcripts.

I was exhausted. Had a full day of Christmas with only 5 hours of sleep. Grayson had a great Christmas, but I think it was a little much for him to stay at Gray's last night. Maybe next year we'll work out something else. He called me later in the evening, told me he was homesick. I think he was just tired and overstimulated, and frustrated at having no cartoons to watch at his dad's house. Gray cut his cable down to just 27 channels, which means that he no longer gets any of the cartoon networks, without which Grayson goes into withdrawal.

Still, it made me feel bad. I felt bad for Gray's sake that he was calling me, and bad for Grayson that he was feeling homesick, and bad because I knew I couldn't do anything about it, just tell him to tough it out. I missed him, too. It would have been nice to just curl up on the couch together and watch his new Teen Titans videos and wind down.

So instead I watched movies and drank and bought music on the internet. I bought an entire Howard Jones album... one that I had originally on cassette tape in 1984. I vaguely remember sending the "What is Love" track to Biff. That probably scared the hell out of him. He's probably changing his phone number and screen names right now to escape the drunk and psychopathic stalker woman.

No, no, I just sent it because it was the Epitome of my '80s adolescence. I was watching Grosse Pointe Blank. I was having 80s nostalgia with my wine, and I hadn't actually heard the tune in, like, 15 years or more. Surely I can't be held accountable for my actions under those circumstances?

Speaking of high school nostalgia, I'm having dinner with my old buddy Chris Barrett tonight. He's in town for the holidays from Raleigh, and so we're going to get together over dinner and talk about how old we feel. That would be funny if it wasn't so true. I notice lately that a lot of my conversations with old friends find their way back to how old we are now. I don't really FEEL old, but I notice things about the 20 and 30-something set that make me realize that I AM old... okay, not old, but no longer strictly young. Middle aged, lets say.

"Beats the alternative." That's what someone I used to know would say about getting older. Yes, I have to agree with that. But there are other rewarding things about having acquired a certain age. I am who I am, and I don't have to make it up as I go along anymore. Well...Mostly.

So, with Christmas behind us we're now chasing the new year and it's time, I suppose, to start thinking about it. This is a New Year in a much more profound way for me this year. The divorce will be final on or around February 5... though really I think the sale of the house will more accurately mark my final separation from Gray. Until then, nothing is really final. I hope we can sell it by March. I worry about it.

But for me, entering the year ahead is a little like driving in a parking lot. No lines, no clear direction, no way of knowing where I'll come out. I don't feel like making a lot of plans now, either. I have to wait and see where I am, later on when I no longer feel like I'm just riding the wave. I want to buy a house, yes, but I can't even think about that until the current house sells, and there's no way to know when that will be. So I'm content. The closest thing to a resolution I want to make is a promise to myself to stay open to the spirit of the chaos – let it bring in what it will, to see what new materials and experiences I will have to work with on the other side.

I'm trying to welcome change, seek new experiences and reacquaint myself with old ones. I don't want to settle into any routines too quickly. I want to keep my spirit open to possibility.

Except today. Today I'm keeping my spirit open to coffee, the sofa and a good book. I mean, you gotta draw the line somewhere, and yesterday was a big day. Today I laze.

Merry Christmas

A happy holiday. This is the first time Grayson and I have spent Christmas Eve at my folks' house in many years. Grayson was very excited about it. I gotta say, it felt like home to me, too. Oddly enough :)

Okay, so is it odd to have Christmas without Gray?

Yes, and no. Yes because, as I think I've said before, Grayson and I don't quite have that whole-family feel just the two of us. But I didn't feel an emptiness. And Grayson didn't seem to register a loss.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

The longest night

Solstice.
I can't sleep.
I suppose if you're going to be awake all night, the solstice is the night to do it. Longest night of the year. The turning point of the season. The night our ancestors spent in songs and stories and prayers, hoping to bring back the light. It's a good night to be up late, thinking.

So I went back through the blog and looked up Solstice for last year. A very different time. No one could have told me the changes that would occur in one journey of the earth around our sun. And now I find I am in a place from which I cannot see where I will be one year from now. Not clearly. Not yet. I'm like those ancient ancestors, watching and waiting through the strange darkness for the return of the sun.

Yet we know that the spring comes, the sun returns. The earth will circle this way again. There is a sort of peace in pacing through the processes of change. From a known place to a place of chaos and out again into something new. And I believe in that. I believe that change is good and inevitable and that ultimately, we thrive on it. Ultimately, it is what makes life worth living - the thrill of "what happens next."

I recognize chaos in my life right now. I seem incapable of maintaining routines or keeping focus. I am a walking contradiction, fully feeling two completely incompatible ways at one time: Grief and elation, terrible self doubt and a sense of strength and surety stronger than any I have felt in a long time. You can't maintain those kinds of contradictions, but I believe they are all part of the change and you can't struggle against them, either. You can't try to make anything make sense. You just have to roll with it.

So, I light my candle and believe in the return of the sun. Though it's still cold and the most bitter part of winter may still be ahead, the days are getting longer, and spring is on the way.

Just two more days of work before the Christmas break. I'm ready for some down time. I've not been worth shooting at work for a couple of weeks. I want to just remove my brain from the museum and the responsible grown-up world for awhile and go ahead and immerse myself in the weirdness that is my personal life right now. I want to watch eleven hours of Teen Titans with Grayson and eat pizza on the sofa. I want to make dinner with friends and talk and talk and talk until I lose my voice. I want to sleep all afternoon. I want to go out and drink too much and laugh too loud and tell everyone I love them. I want to listen to music and do nothing else at all. All that stuff and more. Stuff I haven't done in a long time. Stuff I've never done but always meant to.

It's all part of finding out what happens next.

Spring is coming. Have faith.

Story Slam and All About Biff

Krysten and I went to a story slam at the Istvan gallery last night. It was a holiday-themed evening, with people telling stories about Christmases past. It was alright. It wasn't The Moth, but it was entertaining, and there was a decent audience there, sitting on folding chairs in a chilly empty gallery. For a ten-dollar donation I got all the cheap box wine I could drink, and a couple of hours of stories.

There were a couple storytellers that needed a gong... or maybe a long hook. One woman in her 60s did this hideous "I'm getting nuttin for Christmas" thing in the persona of a little kid... complete with red cap turned slightly sideways. It was dreadful. Another woman went up and did this bizarre, pointless thing where she pretended to be Marsha Brady. It was utterly heinous. Very highschool improv. It made me long for death. But with those exceptions, the rest were all genuine stories, decently told. The woman who won did a really very good job, so I'm hoping there are more like her out there.

The next slam is on Jan. 16, themed "Friends in Low Places," and I will encourage folks to go. The more slammers there are, the better the stories will be. And Oklahoma City needs a thing like this. I really want it to succeed. I'm trying to come up with a good story to tell. Lord knows I've got plenty of material on that particular theme....

This morning the wind is howling around the apartment again. Putting my hand to the window glass, I find it is also wicked cold. Another good day for staying in. Grayson is spending the weekend with Gray and so I have the place to myself. I think I'll make some muffins this morning, do some laundry, read a book. Laze about. Tonight I have a Christmas party to go to with Biff.

Who's Biff?

Some of you may have caught the very short-lived entry I posted about him last week. It was brief, humorous, and quite tongue-in-cheek. But I realized later that I had sacrificed truth for impact, and I have since taken that one down. I'll start over, this time with a focus on truth with a little less crafting for comic effect.

So, I'll try this again: Who's Biff?
Biff is a guy I met on Match.com three weeks ago. He's 40, has his own IT consulting company, and is more than a little obsessed with cycling. We met for a beer, we hit it off, we've been going out since. I like him. He has a more-than-slightly sarcastic sense of humor, a shaved head, a nice pair of eyes, and what seems to be a genuine interest in me. It's amazing the power of receiving someone's undivided attention. He looks and me and laughs... I must be beautiful and hilarious.

We've been exploring new restaurants, (there's a new Moroccan place that is really good); trading music (the man has a play list to die for), introducing one another to favorite movies (Ever heard of The Boondock Saints? Neither had I), trying new things (absinthe sucks), and sharing war stories from our respective recently terminated relationships. Oh, and drinking copious amounts of beer and wine at various local establishments. We get along swimmingly.

Our first stumbling block occurred when I introduced him here on Scrawlspace, characterized him as a republican, and wrote a couple of paragraphs riffing on that theme. I thought I was being funny, he thought I was reducing him to a charicature. In a way, I was. I had trotted out all my own fears and prejudices, wrapped them up in words and pasted them to him. When I looked back over it, I realized it wasn't fair. It was funny, but it wasn't really fair, and it didn't say anything about who he is or how I feel about him. So I took it down.

This is part of why it's good for you to know lots of different types of people. It keeps you honest. It keeps you open and aware of the complexity and wild diversity of the people around you. You can't make a bunch of knee-jerk stupid gay jokes if you have dear friends who are gay. You can't sit in silence and accept black jokes if you have chosen family who are black. And you can't let yourself tar all republicans with the same condescending left-wing liberal brush if you're dating one. It was a lesson in self-discovery. I was way inside my box, looking out. I needed to look back at myself a bit.

So there have been some very good things that came out of that experience. We spent a few evenings asking questions of each other over the web: do you believe in God? Taxes? Gay marriage? Evolution? What should we do about the war? We didn't always agree, but we each probably got some answers we weren't expecting, and I don't think either of us got any answers we couldn't respect.

So who is Biff? Well, I don't know, exactly, yet. But I'm verrry interested in finding out. I'll keep you posted.

In Which I am Selected as a Sexy Single

So I got an email from Oklahoma Magazine today that I have been nominated and selected as one of 12 "sexy singles" from the Oklahoma City area to be featured in their February issue and auctioned off for charity in March. Woo Hooo!

This means I will be dressed and coifed and photographed sometime in January for the photo spread. Then I will attend the charity event at which dates with each of the Sexy Singles will be auctioned off, with proceeds benefiting the Make A Wish Foundation.

I find this entirely hilarious and wonderful.

What campy good fun! I get to vamp it up, get a fabulous glossy photo of myself shot for a nice upscale magazine, then rally the crowd at a big party to raise money for a worthy cause. It's the best, easiest most entertaining and ego-feeding kind of charitable work imaginable.

Christmas shopping

Holy Cats it's COLD!
The past two days have been unbelievably cold! Sunday was lovely and warm and then Monday.... WHAM! Jeeeeez Louise!

I'd like to say it has gotten me into the Christmas spirit, but actually...

not so much.

I came to a realization this weekend that I get paid on the 23rd and will get to do the vast majority of my Christmas shopping that night. Okay, technically I suppose I could do some of that shopping on Christmas eve... but who wants to do that?

I suppose this gives me a chance to fine-tune my shopping list. I am not such a great gift buyer. I am not good at choosing for other people. Some people have it... others do not.

On Sunday, in the throes of Christmas exuberance pursuant to the decorating of our tree, Grayson sat down and cranked out his letter to Santa. I "mailed" it today, along with our Christmas cards. I'm glad he is still a Believer. I know some of his friends, many of whom are older than him by a year or two, no longer believe in Santa. But their lack of belief doesn't seem to have daunted G at all.

I love the holiday atmosphere that takes over at the museum this time of year. The last week before Christmas break is such a funny mix of insanity and complete slackertude. There are projects that MUST be completed before we leave for two weeks... and these are frenetically worked on. But outside of those projects, we're in a definite lull. There's a chatty, loosie-goosie feel to the place, and little gifties tend to turn up. This morning I found a box of Godiva chocolates and a bag of tootsie rolls on my chair. Not bad at all! I got gifts for a few of my co-workers, as well.

It's good to take it easy now, because when we get back after break, Katie bar the door.

Christmas Tree Day

So Grayson has been sick all weekend. He's doing that horrible barking-seal cough that makes my throat hurt just to hear it, plus the snotty nose and general, whiny kid-malaise. I do feel sorry for him, but the whining begins to grate on my nerves before long. I find myself snarling at him to Get Over It, and then I have to apologize for being Evil Mom. I am fortunate in that Grayson is the sweetest tempered, most forgiving child on the planet. He always just says "That's okay, mom," and goes right on about his business, no grudge, no resentment. I don't know how a mom with such a short fuse got such a mild-mannered kid. He must get it from his dad.

We did manage to get the Christmas tree up this weekend, at last. The trade-off of Grayson's weekends with Gray pushed the project back a week, so it's later than I have ever put a tree up before. And I must say that it feels much more Christmassy (is that a word?) around here now that we have our tree.

We suffered a slight setback this year. Our favorite Christmas tree place, at the Coit's Rootbeer Stand, was not selling trees. Since I moved to Oklahoma City in 1992, I have always gotten my trees from Coits! And now, just when I need it most.... no trees. I thought they'd cancelled Christmas. I literally had a moment there when I thought "there is no Christmas this year."

My fears were not allayed when I went to Lowe's and they had no fresh cut trees, either. There were three potted firs and that was it. I went to Customer Service and asked if they had any Christmas trees, and the grumpy girl behind the counter said "We have this one." She jerked her head over her shoulder to indicated a scraggly 5-foot tree leaning against a partition behind her desk. "He says there's nothin' wrong with it."

Did someone actually RETURN a Christmas tree?? Can you do that?

I was tempted to buy the tree just out of pity for the poor thing, but I decided to try one more place. Fortunately, Home Depot came through for me. I got a beautiful 6-foot Douglas fir for $27!! I was shocked when they told me the price. Tradition be damned, I may have purchased my last $75 tree at Coits!

This was also the first time in at least 10 years that I have put up a tree by myself. I'd forgotten what a sicky, gummy mess it is to get the thing set up in the stand and lighted, especially with Grayson "helping." But we got it done and the tree looks fantastic. Today I will wrap some presents to complete the picture.

La Bella Luna

Tonight the moon is some 30,000 kilometers closer to the earth than usual, with the added benefit of being a full moon, so it’s exceptionally large and bright in the sky. It is, in fact “Cosmo’s Moon,” just like in Moonstruck.

I stopped for a few minutes out in front of our apartment building this evening, just admiring the moon. It always shows us the same face – turning, miraculously, just enough on its own axis as it circles our planet, to never reveal its backside, like a self-conscious girl at the swimming pool. It makes me think of the faces we show to people and the things we kept carefully turned away. The dark side.

I spent most of the day wrangling, stupidly, with Gray over details of our divorce. Money, mostly. We each got wound around our separate axels, sniping at each other and nit-picking, escalating things until it reached the patently absurd. It’s just money. It’s just money, not love. Not our future or our past or our promises or shortcomings. Not our child or our twelve years together. It’s just money. When I went to pick up Grayson this evening we each looked at the other, and remembered that we have never really had a reason not to trust one another, and we both apologized – me for being a petty bitch over money… Gray for writing nasty things about me in an email.

We parted amicably. Again. For now. It’s perfectly miserable, this process. I refuse to let it turn us into bitter enemies. If we can no longer be married, at least we can remember that we started out as friends. I hope. Otherwise, it’s just too depressing all around, for the future of everything. My god, if love ends in enmity, why bother? Why go on?

The moon. Waxing and waning. It’s too easy a metaphor.

I was standing in my office at the end of the day today, lamenting to Krysten, my assistant, about how useless I have been for the past three months as this melodrama has unfolded. Every time I begin to feel that I’m getting a grip, something new comes along to scramble things again. Fighting with Gray made me feel sick. And in explaining it to her, I think I found an answer, if a small one, for some of how I feel.

“It’s not Gray I miss,” I said. And I realized…it’s true. My feelings for him – specifically, as a life partner, as a person – have changed over the past three months, because of all the heartache and all the anger, plus the realization that the Gray I loved and the Gray I’ve been living with have been two different people for a long time now. “It’s my family I miss. I miss the family we were when we were all together. I miss Grayson’s dad. It’s just me and G now.”

It was a minor epiphany. It explained to me some of the conflicting feelings I have. I still feel sad when I see Gray, or talk to him (when we’re not fighting about something). But I don’t want him back. Not anymore. My heart does not yearn for him like it did at first. My heart, like Grayson’s lip, is mending. But I miss my family. I yearn for that comfortable hominess, the predictable routines, the known cocoon of Family. Grayson and I have ours, but it’s not the same. There’s no daddy in our family now. I could never go back to that family now. The truth, the history, is changed now. It would never be the same family, operating on the assumption that we were and had been and would always be together. That is lost forever.

What I’m finding is that there are peculiar folds and trap doors and secret rooms in my heart. It seems impossible to understand why I feel what I feel. Every time I move into a new place in there, I’m finding some new convolution, some hidden corner, some complication. Sometimes it’s full of light, and sometimes, bleak emptiness.

The dark side of the moon. The unknown, unseen, unfathomable, but always there. A constant yin and yang of complete and irreconcilable contradiction.

The other thing about tonight is, that there’s a meteor shower. Haven’t seen any. It’s a bit overcast, and I’m foiled by light pollution in the city. But meteors complicate my metaphor too much, so I can’t talk about them here…. : )

Kids Heal Fast

I got the pictures of Grayson's lip off of my phone, with a little help. I think you will agree that the lip looks TERRIBLE here, just after it was sewn up.

It has now completely healed, however. I'm amazed at how fast it did so. He says it is still a little tender, but you can barely see any scar. Just a little funny divot on the lower part of the lip.

Brass Spheres and a Monkey

Holy Crap it's cold! The temperature has taken a serious dive this week! Last night we had precipitation that could reasonably be called "snow," if you didn't know what snow was supposed to really look like. Whatever it was, it was white, it was falling from the sky, and it was cold as hell.

But when I think of snow, I think of REAL snow. Here's a great link to a video of a dog playing in the snow that.... if it doesn't make you smile.... you're dead.

http://www.dogwork.com/dogsnow/

Anyway... there was a tiny bit of snow on the ground this morning and Grayson was all kinds of excited about it, despite the bone-cracking cold and wind.

I am a horrifying failure at Christmas shopping this year. Granted, I think I have a half-way decent excuse for being somewhat distracted, but really the time has come to get my act together and start making a list and checking it twice.

Grayson is strangely difficult to buy for this year. Primarily this is because all he cares or thinks about is SPORE. And Spore has no new games, so I'm reduced to buying him an overpriced Spore T-shirt online.

He has a room full of toys he never plays with. I truly believe I could have saved myself the hassle of unpacking half of that stuff ... just taken it straight to Good Will, and he wouldn't know the difference. He plays on his computer, he watches TV, and he plays Nintendo DS. Other than that, the toy interactions are fairly slim.

Sigh. Just last week he asked me when he was going to get his own iPod! I told him when he could save up $245!

We are on a losing streak lately when it comes to getting Grayson to school on time.

I think this is the cats' fault.

When I had Kobi and Flower, I got up every morning at 6:30 to take them "walkies" before I got Grayson up. There was no avoiding getting up with Kobi in the house. She's way better than an alarm clock. She climbs up onto your chest and runs her tongue up inside your nose until you get out of bed.

The cats, however, are no help at all. They're even lazier than I am. So I set the alarm for 7 a.m. and hit the snooze until 7:20. By that time I'm already doomed. There is no way to get Grayson up, dressed, fed, coifed and accoutred by 7:45, which is the time we HAVE to leave for school if we're going to be on time. So we cruise out of the house by about 7:55, which means we get Grayson to school 11 to 15 minutes late, which means he has to stop in the office and get a tardy slip before reporting to class.

Then, to compound the problem, half the time I haven't had time to get dressed myself, so I am then obliged to go back to the apartment and take a shower before I can go to work.

Tomorrow, I mean it, Tomorrow we're getting up early enough to be on time!

In which Linda is hooked on technology

Okay, sorry to take so long to get to this, but I got sidetracked.
I have to laugh at myself a bit. I'm hooked on instant messaging and text messaging. I had actually had it turned off on my phone because I found it so irritating. But now I've started using it and it seems like I'm beeping away on the cell phone everytime I go anywhere. I don't think I've gotten to the point where I'm one of those people who flips it open in the movie theatre to see what important people are texting me. AND I don't use text shorthand. I do hold on to some vestiges of dignity.

My next big move is Skype. Hoping to figure that out enough to chat with far-flung friends. Guess I need to get a headset or something. I'm not too bright about these things.

Last week I traded dogs for cats. Gray has been after me for a while to take the cats to the apartment and leave the dogs with him. I resisted until after the first really bitterly cold mornings. Finally I gave in. Those 6:30 a.m. walks in the freezing cold, straight out of a nice warm bed will make about anyone willing to trade. So... dogs out. Cats in.

I have spent the past few days re cat-proofing my apartment. I remembered... a bit late... that the cats love to eat fish food and will eat fish if they can get them. I remembered that Nemo cannot resist my bedside lamp, which is now tilted at a drunken angle. I remembered that the cats scream at you and attack your feet if you don't feed them on time. Stuff like that. They also show an unnatural interest in the fireplace ashes that gives me cause for some concern...

Discovered a leak in the bathroom today. My first opportunity to test the response time of my maintenance team. I'll keep you posted.

I miss the dogs. I know Gray will take good care of them and he loves them. But I miss that goofy Kobi face greeting me in the morning with the old tongue up the nose trick.

Grayson spent the weekend with Gray. His lip looks much better today. The doctor pulled the stitches this afternoon. There will be a little scar, a little tuck on the lower lip, but it's not too noticeable. There's still a scab on his lip where it split, but the stitches themselves have healed up very nicely. I'm hoping Grayson will let me actually take a photo of him this week. He's been very adamant about not having his picture taken since the accident.

A bad day for lips

Got a call shortly after lunch from Gray. Grayson fell down on some rocks at lunch and fell on his face: bit through his bottom lip and chipped a tooth. Gray was on the way to the doctor.

An hour later I got the call that the doctor had said stitches were in order and recommended we get them done by a plastic surgeon, since we wanted t0 be sure of as little scarring as possible. So they made the appointment for us and I met them for the drive to the office.

First of all, Grayson's lip looks like hell. I took some pictures with my phone, but now he doesn't want me to take any more because he's self conscious. He skinned his chin, and his lip is swelled up to twice its normal size on the side where he bit through.

The doctor, a nice, no-nonsense Indian man, was very straightforward with Grayson. He looked at the lip and then said (you have to imagine an Indian accent here)

"Well, I can give you a local anesthetic, clean you up and put you back together. Do you know what a local anesthetic is?

Grayson shrugged.

"Have you been to the dentist? Did they numb your mouth?"

A nod. "So you know about the shot that they use?"

He just stared at the man with the biggest, saddest eyes. A tiny nod.

"It's just like that. I will use the smallest needle that I can. You will feel a burning as the anesthetic goes in. Do you think you can take that?"

A nod. I was so proud of him. His eyes were shining like beads, but no tears welled over.

And he was brave through the shot. He just said "Ow. That hurts" and he whimpered. But he didn't move a muscle. Even though the doctor jabbed him all through the lip with that needle, and we could see the anesthetic running through the hole where his teeth had gone through. I don't know if I would have been as brave, myself. He shed not a tear.

He was quivvery through the stitching, but didn't complain or move. The doc gave him seven stitches. One inside the flesh of the lip, one on the inside of the lip, and five on the front. It was quite a gash.

Now he's at home, watching TV and holding an ice pack on his poor swollen lip. He's very self-conscious about it because it is so swollen, and the stitches are black. I told him the swelling would go down, and he won't look, as he says, "like Frankenstein" tomorrow at school.

Poor kid.