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Diary Rings

Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
A Gift from Hil - 2014-12-28
There was A LOT of turkey. - 2014-12-04
Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
A (don't kick the) Bucket List - 2014-10-28

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11:34 a.m. - 2013-05-22
Get Up, You Dopey Thing, You.

Before I could stop it I spun into a Very Dark Place. 'Despair' is the correct word but it sounds so drama queenie. Had a rough few days. Not sure why the black dog was so determined to take me down, but it did. Hard. Partly my defenses were down because I was physically ill. Pharyngitis. A fancy name for an inflamed throat and some swollen glands. Had a wretched sinus infection too. Traded it for some antibiotics and a scorching yeast infection. Hardly seemed worth it. But my battered bod is mending as is my psyche.

I guess Mother's Day is always going to bite my ass harder than I tell myself it will. Pretty much a demented fool over all the other holidays but I'd be happy to strike Mother's Day off the calendar with nary a qualm. Though I will say the brunch went fine. SIL's new club is very nice. The food was great. The atmosphere was classier and yet lighter somehow. Perhaps because the dining room was fresh and new; the paint, chairs and tables linens a gorgeous oyster white, the walls on three sides were floor to ceiling glass with just enough millwork to frame the windows and hold a couple sets of french doors that gave onto the terrace. I felt dressed exactly right too in a simple royal blue stretchy cotton dress, dark pink patent leather pumps and a scarf that tied the two colors together with a geometric pattern of bright jewel tones like it had been made to order just for that outfit. Mick and Wolf in crisp chinos and summer dress shirts were my handsome escorts. Wolf wore his favorite tie, the one stuck all over with pins from all the school awards he's won. The tie is practically armored it's so thick with the merit pins.

Last night he won another award, this one for being the outstanding sophomore in social studies. As he mounted the stage to shake hands and get his certificate Mick nudged me and asked if I'd ever imagined it would be like this. I snuffled back the inevitable tears and shook my head with a watery smile. The awards and accolades he picked up at the alternative school are one thing, but to be at the head of the pack in regular school? Oh man, the pride and relief knocked me backward.

This morning we dropped more of the cats at the mobile spay and neuter clinic. The ferals the ex left behind and Anna the calico. That's the last, I hope. Everybody is fixed now. Or will be when I go back at 3:30 to pick them up. Pricey, but the alternative is to be overrun with kittens and more kittens when the kittens have kittens and GAH! It'd be a nightmare like at the old house when everything got out of hand and we ended up with 30 cats. Not our fault there, horrible irresponsible people would dump their unwanted kittens off at the dairy across the street, likely telling themselves the comforting lie that the cats 'would be so happy living in a cow barn what with all the mice and free milk'. Assholes. What really happened was the barn tom would kill the males and impregnate the females who'd then cross the street to our place looking for a meal and a warm safe haven to deliver their kits. Fuh. When you have a 27 room house it seems like there's always room for strays, but at $100 a pop to fix them...shoot, who's got that kind of dough? Anyway, I think we've staved off a cat population explosion. The current Casa Sage is full to bursting with 3 humans, 3 cats, and our one dog.

I had to buy a couple new cat carriers yesterday and resolutely turned my face away from the aviary at Petco. They had a lively crop of finches and the temptation to add some birdies to my menagerie was nigh on overpowering. I love finches. Had them for years and years. I love their little 'bee bee bee' noise and the way they always seem happy. No hankering for larger birds, not even a parakeet, but finches undo me. Gotten wiser in my old age though and understand that today's happy impulse purchase becomes tomorrow's pain in the patoot. I do NOT need more pets. What I've got is a case of premature empty nest what with Wolf getting so tall and finally starting to sprout body hair and about to become an upperclassman. I'm a bit frantic right now to shield myself with other small critters needing care and love so as to soften the blow of Wolf becoming a man grown. No worries, I'll get over it and myself. Always do.

Besides, there's always Mick. No, no, not that my husband is one of those idiot men incapable of doing anything without a wife there to wipe his chin and clean up in his wake and smooth things over with the authorities and the credit card people, Mick is a real grown up. I mean I'll always have someone to fuss over and feed and do for.

It's odd. I have never, ever been alone. Not for any substantial length of time. Living in my car for 6 weeks when I was 19 hardly counts. At times I yearn to just be me. The stunning freedom to pick and choose, go and do, be accountable only to me and no one else glitters on my personal horizon like Cibola. Absurd. I know darn well the very minute I was left on my own I'd begin filling my life up with strays. Human, feline, canine, whatever. I only exist to myself in relation to what I put out for others. Because what do I want really? What do I need? A computer, a place to use it, a bookshelf, a toaster oven, and a comfy bed. Maybe a fridge and a microwave. Basically I need a dorm room. Beyond that, nada. If there are hermit caves with WiFi I'd be just fine. At least as far as my material needs go. I've worked through all my lusts for 'stuff'. Twice now I've reduced my life down to what fits in the trunk of my car. And it turned out okay.

How I define myself is something else altogether. For that I need others. People to cook for. People to advise, hug, teach, console. Living things to nurture. Who am I if I'm not the Tender, Mender, Minder, the Mom? I don't think I'm anybody. My space in this world depends on how necessary I am to others.

I have never been necessary to myself.

I know my last fraught entry prompted some stunningly loving comments. I appreciate and am grateful for them. Truly. Actually I didn't read them until this morning, quite sure my ouchie outburst had garnered me nothing but snark, scoffing and deliberate cruelty. And I was too raw to deal with the usual cawing barbs aimed my way whenever I veer from the most sappily benign kind of entries. Let me feel 'too' happy or 'too' powerful or 'too' honest and needing of comfort and there's sure to be my loyal cadre of bitch-slappers there to take their cheap shots.

Anyhoodle, my gist today is...actually I don't know if I have an overarching theme or message today. My kid is growing up fast. Despite the meds and the constant exhortation to do right and be strong the black dog caught me in its foul jaws and dragged me down and left me shaky and vulnerable and I loathe it. I'm laughing at myself because I honestly believed a good marriage and finally sliding into menopause would mean the wrenching emotional and moral upheavals and seismic lifestyle shifts were over and imagine my astonishment and piss off that it's so not fucking true.

Guess my Chanel grandmother was right...'You're never done being surprised until you're dead.'

Paddling hard, chins above water, ~LA

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