Yeah, so I haven't been so much with the typing this week, have I? Except for my whingey-spew last night. Well, I'm done with that.
So the last time I posted with any substance was...last Thursday? Jeez-o-Pete. Okay. Friday I hung out at Tim and Ray's, and we probably watched Tim play Grand Theft Auto and laughed a lot. Then there was sleeping, and work on Saturday, during which time I did something I'm sure, and then, uh. Saturday night which I don't remember at all.
Sunday I barely scraped myself out of bed to go to church. Oh, yeah! Saturday night we went grocery shopping late, and then were too hungry to cook, so we drove a half hour to Boulder to go to the IHoP (it made sense at the time, I swear), where we ate a lovely meal briefly interrupted by a bunch of guys in glittery lizard suits. I eventually wandered over to ask what that was about (odd to be the ask-er, instead of the ask-ee) and they said they were kineticists. I contemplated retreating at this point with what information I had (the glittery lizard suits included inflatable tubes atop their hats, which, well, let's just say the were very happy to answer my question, or so they claimed and demonstrated) but persisted, eventually finding out it was about a race. With human-powered vehicles. Over land, water, and the occasional mud pit. More to be found here and here. At which point I did retreat.
So we get out of the IHoP at one, thence home at about one-thirty, thence to discover that I've left my purse in the restaurant. Wouldn't have cared so much except that I was taking care of Dwen's dog Inga, and I needed my keys to get into her apartment. So, bless them, Tim and Ray put me back in the car and drove me back to IHoP and I think I got to bed at about three.
So. Up and found clothing and off to church. Much more comfortable with it this time. I sat in the center of the congregation and felt very included. A lot of people said hi and thanked me for coming back.
The priest wasn't the same guy as last week, which I did feel a little uncomfortable with -- not that I was worried about him in particular; I just tend to cling to the familiar when I'm in an unusual place. He gave one of the best sermons I've ever heard, though, and when I talked to him afterwards he was really nice.
He did the lamb sermon, which I know a lot of people on RevGalBlogPals were planning to avoid like anything. But he started out with a time he was in Guatemala on mission, and most of his group went on to the next village but he stayed behind to help a couple with wedding planning, and when it came time to catch up with the rest they offered him a horse and a guide, and he accepted the first but turned down the second...
Any sermon which includes the phrase 'never do this' is one I'm gonna like.
So as you've probably already guessed it didn't go well. He didn't get lost; the horse just made a big circle and came right back to the village. But that was his segue into 'sometimes you need a guide; no, really'.
It turned into 'standard lamb sermon #5.3' for a bit there and I'm afraid I zoned out. But he got me back when he said that, really, most people these days don't have a lot of experience with sheep. If Jesus had come now, he proposed, He might have used a different way of explaining things altogether. At this point the priest pulled a baggie out of his pocket, crouched down, and made c'mere noises, and up the aisle came bouncing the Most Adorable Tiny White Fluffy Poodle Evar. And my brain melted.
I did pay enough attention to catch the rest of the sermon and it made a lot of sense. Training and taking care of a dog is, I suppose, a pretty good parallel to the good ol' sheep-shepherd thing. And I certainly know dogs better than sheep.
And then there was communion. I went up for it this time. It was nice and a little odd, not familiar but still somehow comfortable. Actual unleavened bread as opposed to squooshed-flat dry cracker, real wine instead of grape juice. And it felt...sort of quietly real. Not the great transformative experience I've always wanted but as someone pointed out to me recently, sometimes those don't happen because we're not ready for them. God doesn't want to break us, after all. And I appreciate not being broken.
Sat back down and had a good pray until communion was done. Sort of floated through the rest of mass, talked to the priest afterwards and admired his woven-in-Guatemala stole. Then got me a good puppy-fix with the poodle.
The rest of the day was supposed to be gardening and putting up the new tent Tim and Ray got at the Salvation Army. Well, we entirely failed in both; I passed out on the couch at their place and in fact basically kicked Tim off so he couldn't play Grand Theft Auto. For which I later apologized.
Ray made dinner (nearly all by himself!) and that was it for the day. More catchy-up later, I suppose; and more thoughtful posts to come as well. Just been a bit with the babbling yesterday and today...
Showing posts with label Triad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Triad. Show all posts
Friday, May 4, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Very belated Friday Five: Surprised by Joy
From RevGalBlogPals, which I, err, seem to have joined.
This is a particularly appropriate day for me to finally get round to this post. Half of yesterday and all of today I've been buried under a crushing 'cannot do anything' depression; I have the feeling that it's a crash from the up-and-down emotions of the weekend. Not surprising on reflection but I wish I'd realized it might happen.
I've been forcing myself into a semblance of usefulness anyway. I'm at work, and have done most of the things the boss wanted me to get done today (saving a bit of pricing, as I can't find the bloody pricing gun). I did a logo for my mom earlier, and a bit of jobhunting. So not a day entirely wasted, though at times it feels like I'm dragging myself through molasses to move; at times I have to remind myself to breathe.
So why joy, on a day which doesn't hold much joy for me? Because I need the reminder. It's good for me to think about what is good, at this moment when it feels like there is so very much that's not good. So herewith my five.
1) Shanti, who came into my life entirely unexpectedly. Back when I worked in Boulder, Tim and I were outside taking a smoke break (well, he was smoking, I wasn't) and saw, trotting across the field, a beautiful long-haired black cat. I made pss-pss-pss noises (I am rather a sucker when it comes to cats) and she ran over, crying, and began to rub furiously against my legs. I bent to pet her, and found that she was skinny, and her fur was terribly matted down her sides.
Needless to say, I now have a lovely, long-haired, spoiled, well-fed, frequently-brushed black cat. She walks between me and the monitor, and then lays down on my wrist rest so that I simply cannot type. She's nearly shredded her way through one of the two window screens in my bedroom. She's escaped upwards of fifteen times, never longer than ten minutes at a time since she usually runs a little way and then lays down. She's not a lap cat, won't lay down on top of me or on my pillow when I'm in bed, but consistently lays curled up next to my pillow. She goes for walks with me, on a leash, and if I'm not going to the apartment office anyway she'll drag me there so the apartment ladies pay attention to her. She poings. She zooms. She tries to chase birds, dragging me clumsy and loud along behind her, and I always scare them off. And then she'll come back to me and rub against my legs just to let me know she loves me anyway.
2) The people I've met, mostly here at blogspot and more generally through my blogs here. Hedwyg and her daily gratitude posts, reminding me that there's still joy to be had. Plain Foolish who brought me here in the first place and never fails to make me think. Wulfila for reminding me that you can be Christian and something else at the same time, and make it work. Brian and his inspiring, and fascinating, quest for equality and understanding. Mother Laura for constant encouragement and the occasional well-placed provocation. And so, so many others; check my blogroll, and I know I'm missing people who should be in that list, too.
3) Ray. I knew what I was going to get from Tim when I moved out here, more or less. We'd known each other for years, after all; talked online incessantly, met for brief, intense and all-too-rare flings a few times a year. Ray and I? Had met once, talked on the phone a few times. Only knew each other through Tim. I had very little idea what to expect and I don't think he did either. And we drive each other nuts, we've had our snippy moments, days of avoiding each other, total lacks of understanding. And we've also had moments of encouraging each other to keep moving, days when each dragged the other out of the house for a bike ride or to go work in the garden. Shared laughter and sometimes tears, worked on dinner together. Joined forces in jollying Tim out of a bad mood. Walked the dog, and chased Shanti across the parking lot. (Repeatedly; Ray no longer walks into my apartment without crouching down to catch the cat). It's been a lot of frustration, some heartache, but mostly? A lot of fun.
4) All the many, many things I can do on my own. Go grocery shopping and plan meals. Make a budget and stick to it (more or less). Make the money to pay the bills. Decorate an apartment, and keep it clean and livable, and change things around when I like, or when it makes sense to. Get to work on time and work until the work is done. Get car insurance, investigate health insurance, do my own taxes. Get my own apartment in my own name after discovering that my credit score was not only not craptastic, but actually really, really good. Keep that credit score good.
All really basic simple life stuff, right? And stuff I hadn't done on my own before, much of it stuff that scared me white at the thought of doing it by myself. Nobody else to do it for me, though, and so I'm doing it, pushing myself out of the house to get things done at times, but doing it and getting it done.
5) Faith. I'm still not entirely sure what I believe in, or at least all of what I believe in, but I've come to realize that yes, there are things I believe in, and that still comes as a total shock to me, miss skeptic, miss unbeliever, miss Created Without Faith. But I believe that both Ganesha and St. Michael are keeping an eye on me; I believe that there's a Something out there behind them, there's a light beyond the darkness. How it expresses itself in my life is still up for debate (a lot) but that? Is okay.
And the mental repetition of 'I only ever wanted to come inside' has been replaced by 'Domine, non sum dignus' with the occasional reply of 'neither's anyone else; your point?'. I keep wanting to look over my shoulder to see who They're talking to, but Tim rolled his eyes at me, so.
Jesus said to them, "Children, you have no fish, have you?" They answered him, "No." He said to them, "Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some." So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. (John 21:5-7)
Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30:5b)
This week I've been watching parents of the young people slain at Virgina Tech trying to make meaning out of the lives of their lost children, and each one seems to begin by focusing on something joyful about that child. It's a gift that most humans have brains wired to respond in that way. For some of us it can be harder to work our way out of dark places, but I believe joy remains the key. It is the spirit of resurrection.
Tell us about five people, places, or things that have brought surprising, healing joy into your life.
This is a particularly appropriate day for me to finally get round to this post. Half of yesterday and all of today I've been buried under a crushing 'cannot do anything' depression; I have the feeling that it's a crash from the up-and-down emotions of the weekend. Not surprising on reflection but I wish I'd realized it might happen.
I've been forcing myself into a semblance of usefulness anyway. I'm at work, and have done most of the things the boss wanted me to get done today (saving a bit of pricing, as I can't find the bloody pricing gun). I did a logo for my mom earlier, and a bit of jobhunting. So not a day entirely wasted, though at times it feels like I'm dragging myself through molasses to move; at times I have to remind myself to breathe.
So why joy, on a day which doesn't hold much joy for me? Because I need the reminder. It's good for me to think about what is good, at this moment when it feels like there is so very much that's not good. So herewith my five.
1) Shanti, who came into my life entirely unexpectedly. Back when I worked in Boulder, Tim and I were outside taking a smoke break (well, he was smoking, I wasn't) and saw, trotting across the field, a beautiful long-haired black cat. I made pss-pss-pss noises (I am rather a sucker when it comes to cats) and she ran over, crying, and began to rub furiously against my legs. I bent to pet her, and found that she was skinny, and her fur was terribly matted down her sides.
Needless to say, I now have a lovely, long-haired, spoiled, well-fed, frequently-brushed black cat. She walks between me and the monitor, and then lays down on my wrist rest so that I simply cannot type. She's nearly shredded her way through one of the two window screens in my bedroom. She's escaped upwards of fifteen times, never longer than ten minutes at a time since she usually runs a little way and then lays down. She's not a lap cat, won't lay down on top of me or on my pillow when I'm in bed, but consistently lays curled up next to my pillow. She goes for walks with me, on a leash, and if I'm not going to the apartment office anyway she'll drag me there so the apartment ladies pay attention to her. She poings. She zooms. She tries to chase birds, dragging me clumsy and loud along behind her, and I always scare them off. And then she'll come back to me and rub against my legs just to let me know she loves me anyway.
2) The people I've met, mostly here at blogspot and more generally through my blogs here. Hedwyg and her daily gratitude posts, reminding me that there's still joy to be had. Plain Foolish who brought me here in the first place and never fails to make me think. Wulfila for reminding me that you can be Christian and something else at the same time, and make it work. Brian and his inspiring, and fascinating, quest for equality and understanding. Mother Laura for constant encouragement and the occasional well-placed provocation. And so, so many others; check my blogroll, and I know I'm missing people who should be in that list, too.
3) Ray. I knew what I was going to get from Tim when I moved out here, more or less. We'd known each other for years, after all; talked online incessantly, met for brief, intense and all-too-rare flings a few times a year. Ray and I? Had met once, talked on the phone a few times. Only knew each other through Tim. I had very little idea what to expect and I don't think he did either. And we drive each other nuts, we've had our snippy moments, days of avoiding each other, total lacks of understanding. And we've also had moments of encouraging each other to keep moving, days when each dragged the other out of the house for a bike ride or to go work in the garden. Shared laughter and sometimes tears, worked on dinner together. Joined forces in jollying Tim out of a bad mood. Walked the dog, and chased Shanti across the parking lot. (Repeatedly; Ray no longer walks into my apartment without crouching down to catch the cat). It's been a lot of frustration, some heartache, but mostly? A lot of fun.
4) All the many, many things I can do on my own. Go grocery shopping and plan meals. Make a budget and stick to it (more or less). Make the money to pay the bills. Decorate an apartment, and keep it clean and livable, and change things around when I like, or when it makes sense to. Get to work on time and work until the work is done. Get car insurance, investigate health insurance, do my own taxes. Get my own apartment in my own name after discovering that my credit score was not only not craptastic, but actually really, really good. Keep that credit score good.
All really basic simple life stuff, right? And stuff I hadn't done on my own before, much of it stuff that scared me white at the thought of doing it by myself. Nobody else to do it for me, though, and so I'm doing it, pushing myself out of the house to get things done at times, but doing it and getting it done.
5) Faith. I'm still not entirely sure what I believe in, or at least all of what I believe in, but I've come to realize that yes, there are things I believe in, and that still comes as a total shock to me, miss skeptic, miss unbeliever, miss Created Without Faith. But I believe that both Ganesha and St. Michael are keeping an eye on me; I believe that there's a Something out there behind them, there's a light beyond the darkness. How it expresses itself in my life is still up for debate (a lot) but that? Is okay.
And the mental repetition of 'I only ever wanted to come inside' has been replaced by 'Domine, non sum dignus' with the occasional reply of 'neither's anyone else; your point?'. I keep wanting to look over my shoulder to see who They're talking to, but Tim rolled his eyes at me, so.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Tough night
Had a tough night last night.
I missed two days of work this week, due to leg problems. (They're getting better, albeit slowly.) I did go back to work Friday, determined to stay the whole day and earn some money -- two days doesn't put me behind, quite, but it certainly is going to make it harder to catch up on the credit cards. Fridays we usually get the option of leaving early or staying, and I decided to stay.
And wound up leaving a half hour early anyway, when there was nothing but nothing to do. Not even cleaning -- I'd spent most of the day making sure bolts of fabric were in the right place. So I left, feeling vaguely guilty but determined to enjoy the extra time, or at least do something useful with it.
And (foolishly) wound up stopping at the Humane Society on the way home. I didn't come home with a cat, but it was a close thing. Her name is Ebony, she's lovely lithe and black, a bit shy but friendly, licked my fingers thoroughly, and has extra toes on her front paws. And I fell in love.
I can't bring her home; I already have two more cats than I'm allowed to, and, frankly, two more cats than I can afford to. I can't afford to sponsor her so that someone else can adopt her more inexpensively. I can't really even afford to donate canned cat and dog food, which they're in desperate need of. I'm getting suck of hrowing away every request for a donation that comes in the mail -- granted, most of them I wouldn't give to anyway, but I can't and I hate that the decision has been made for me.
I'd think about volunteering at the Humane Society, but I know better. I already have two more cats than etc. and I know myself.
So I came home feeling grumpy and helpless andfairly ill as well, since on top of everything else I have a cold. Sat down in front of the computer for a while before heading over to Tim and Ray's, and wound up sitting there longer than I'd intended. And then got to watch Tim pulling out of the parking lot without so much as a 'I'm going out to X, do you want to come along?'
I got a little grumpy at myself for that. Yes, we're working towards being a triad. Right now? We're not. Tim and Ray are primary partners. I'm secondary in the reationship. Even if we were all primaries, I can't expect the two of them to spend every moment with me, any more than either of them would expect the same.
And besides which, I hadn't entirely decided if I wanted company at all. But the decision had been taken out of my hands and I'm sick of that.
Well, I thouht about it a bit and realized that Tim had gone to pick Ray up from work. Which is fine, no need for me to come along (though he's invited me along on errands often enough). I'd just head over once they got home.
Half an hour passed, then an hour. No sign of them. I finally called Ray's cell phone, only to discover they'd gone out to dinner. Without me.
And you know? I can't be upset at them for that. I wasn't upset at them, really, I just felt horribly left out, and alone, and then really grumpy at myself for being upset, and ... and and and.
Part of the problem, I knew, was low blood sugar; it'd been a while since lunch (and they were out eating, weren't they and...I stopped myself there, but it wasn't easy.) I moped around the kitchen for a while, discovered that since we nearly always eat at Tim and Ray's that I have really nothing around to cook (and isn't that another grumpitude, that he won't come over to my place, I have to go to him...), and decided that to heck with it, I was gonna have popcorn for dinner, and nutrition could wait until tomorrow.
I was out of popcorn.
I coul cry, or I could go shopping. So I went shopping and cried, at least a little. On the way I stopped at Hobby Lobby to look for plant stands -- did I mention I hate not having disposable income? And this is me, who cheers myself up by buying things. Not expensive things; just small ones.
Can't even afford that.
Went to Target, wiping my eyes. On the way conceived of a plan to make a plant stand -- there are those 2x4s someone put next to the dumpster, aren't there? That cheered me a little, enough that I managed to plan a healthier dinner than I might have while in Target, enough that I managed to avoid buying potato chips to cheer myself up.
So, thus fortified, I head home. I plan to leave Tim and Ray alone for the evening -- I feel that I've been over there too much, surely they need some time alone, and anyway I'm awfully hungry and dinner will take a while. Perhaps I can check on those 2x4s while the water is boiling. Instead I leave the groceries in the car and walk right up to their place, thence to burst into tears and apologize all over poor Tim.
Who to his credit doesn't apologize for going out to dinner (Ray did, later, but that's Ray and he'll apologize for anything you let him) because he hadn't done anything wrong. I apologized to him, actually, and told them both that I'm having a really hard time with things sometimes -- I'm trying to figure out who I am, I'm trying to work out how I fit in wih the two of them, I'm redoing my etire life forchrissakes -- and got hugs and support. I do love them, and it helps so, so much.
And headed back home. I needed to eat, and I knew if I stayed much longer someone would feed me something and dammit, I'm grown up enough to be able to feed myself and I've been a bother anyway. On the way I checked for the 2x4s -- alas, gone, but I'm sure I can scrounge up something in the way of wood. Started the water for the pasta, poured heavy cream into a saucepan for the sauce. Added onion flakes, basil, oregano, thyme, and, after some hesitation, tarragon. Let the water heat and the proto-sauce simmer and set about getting the place in shape. Empty the dishwasher, refill it with dirties, handwash a few things ... deal with the mail ... clean up a couple magazines from the floor ... feed the rats ... oh hell.
Siegfried's dead. Cold, stiff. Likely while I was at work; certainly Reinhart had been in there with his dead brother for several hours.
I very nearly melted down right there. But I couldn't just leave him. I found a hammer to dig with, took him outside, and buried him in the flower garden. I still need to clean out the cage for Reinhart. I don't know, yet, if I'll be getting him another brother. On the one hand, he'll be lonely...on the other, I really haven't been paying them enough attention, and I don't want to do that to another rat.
On the gripping hand, if I rescue a rat from the Humane Society he'll still have a better life than he would elsewhere. I don't know.
I left the hammer on the porch and washed my hands. Started the water and the sauce again, put in the tortellini. Stirred the sauce and wished I'd had some chicken to put in. Did a little more straightening while things cooked. Eventually, divided tortellini and sauce between a bowl for now and a plastic container for later, and ate. It was very, very good. Though it really needed some chicken, too.
I will start keeping more food around the house. I need to not depend on Tim for meals all the time.
I cheered myself with a bowl of popcorn and a favourite book. It helped...some. But it was a long, awful evening and I came out of it feeling less strong than previously. I don't know.
I missed two days of work this week, due to leg problems. (They're getting better, albeit slowly.) I did go back to work Friday, determined to stay the whole day and earn some money -- two days doesn't put me behind, quite, but it certainly is going to make it harder to catch up on the credit cards. Fridays we usually get the option of leaving early or staying, and I decided to stay.
And wound up leaving a half hour early anyway, when there was nothing but nothing to do. Not even cleaning -- I'd spent most of the day making sure bolts of fabric were in the right place. So I left, feeling vaguely guilty but determined to enjoy the extra time, or at least do something useful with it.
And (foolishly) wound up stopping at the Humane Society on the way home. I didn't come home with a cat, but it was a close thing. Her name is Ebony, she's lovely lithe and black, a bit shy but friendly, licked my fingers thoroughly, and has extra toes on her front paws. And I fell in love.
I can't bring her home; I already have two more cats than I'm allowed to, and, frankly, two more cats than I can afford to. I can't afford to sponsor her so that someone else can adopt her more inexpensively. I can't really even afford to donate canned cat and dog food, which they're in desperate need of. I'm getting suck of hrowing away every request for a donation that comes in the mail -- granted, most of them I wouldn't give to anyway, but I can't and I hate that the decision has been made for me.
I'd think about volunteering at the Humane Society, but I know better. I already have two more cats than etc. and I know myself.
So I came home feeling grumpy and helpless andfairly ill as well, since on top of everything else I have a cold. Sat down in front of the computer for a while before heading over to Tim and Ray's, and wound up sitting there longer than I'd intended. And then got to watch Tim pulling out of the parking lot without so much as a 'I'm going out to X, do you want to come along?'
I got a little grumpy at myself for that. Yes, we're working towards being a triad. Right now? We're not. Tim and Ray are primary partners. I'm secondary in the reationship. Even if we were all primaries, I can't expect the two of them to spend every moment with me, any more than either of them would expect the same.
And besides which, I hadn't entirely decided if I wanted company at all. But the decision had been taken out of my hands and I'm sick of that.
Well, I thouht about it a bit and realized that Tim had gone to pick Ray up from work. Which is fine, no need for me to come along (though he's invited me along on errands often enough). I'd just head over once they got home.
Half an hour passed, then an hour. No sign of them. I finally called Ray's cell phone, only to discover they'd gone out to dinner. Without me.
And you know? I can't be upset at them for that. I wasn't upset at them, really, I just felt horribly left out, and alone, and then really grumpy at myself for being upset, and ... and and and.
Part of the problem, I knew, was low blood sugar; it'd been a while since lunch (and they were out eating, weren't they and...I stopped myself there, but it wasn't easy.) I moped around the kitchen for a while, discovered that since we nearly always eat at Tim and Ray's that I have really nothing around to cook (and isn't that another grumpitude, that he won't come over to my place, I have to go to him...), and decided that to heck with it, I was gonna have popcorn for dinner, and nutrition could wait until tomorrow.
I was out of popcorn.
I coul cry, or I could go shopping. So I went shopping and cried, at least a little. On the way I stopped at Hobby Lobby to look for plant stands -- did I mention I hate not having disposable income? And this is me, who cheers myself up by buying things. Not expensive things; just small ones.
Can't even afford that.
Went to Target, wiping my eyes. On the way conceived of a plan to make a plant stand -- there are those 2x4s someone put next to the dumpster, aren't there? That cheered me a little, enough that I managed to plan a healthier dinner than I might have while in Target, enough that I managed to avoid buying potato chips to cheer myself up.
So, thus fortified, I head home. I plan to leave Tim and Ray alone for the evening -- I feel that I've been over there too much, surely they need some time alone, and anyway I'm awfully hungry and dinner will take a while. Perhaps I can check on those 2x4s while the water is boiling. Instead I leave the groceries in the car and walk right up to their place, thence to burst into tears and apologize all over poor Tim.
Who to his credit doesn't apologize for going out to dinner (Ray did, later, but that's Ray and he'll apologize for anything you let him) because he hadn't done anything wrong. I apologized to him, actually, and told them both that I'm having a really hard time with things sometimes -- I'm trying to figure out who I am, I'm trying to work out how I fit in wih the two of them, I'm redoing my etire life forchrissakes -- and got hugs and support. I do love them, and it helps so, so much.
And headed back home. I needed to eat, and I knew if I stayed much longer someone would feed me something and dammit, I'm grown up enough to be able to feed myself and I've been a bother anyway. On the way I checked for the 2x4s -- alas, gone, but I'm sure I can scrounge up something in the way of wood. Started the water for the pasta, poured heavy cream into a saucepan for the sauce. Added onion flakes, basil, oregano, thyme, and, after some hesitation, tarragon. Let the water heat and the proto-sauce simmer and set about getting the place in shape. Empty the dishwasher, refill it with dirties, handwash a few things ... deal with the mail ... clean up a couple magazines from the floor ... feed the rats ... oh hell.
Siegfried's dead. Cold, stiff. Likely while I was at work; certainly Reinhart had been in there with his dead brother for several hours.
I very nearly melted down right there. But I couldn't just leave him. I found a hammer to dig with, took him outside, and buried him in the flower garden. I still need to clean out the cage for Reinhart. I don't know, yet, if I'll be getting him another brother. On the one hand, he'll be lonely...on the other, I really haven't been paying them enough attention, and I don't want to do that to another rat.
On the gripping hand, if I rescue a rat from the Humane Society he'll still have a better life than he would elsewhere. I don't know.
I left the hammer on the porch and washed my hands. Started the water and the sauce again, put in the tortellini. Stirred the sauce and wished I'd had some chicken to put in. Did a little more straightening while things cooked. Eventually, divided tortellini and sauce between a bowl for now and a plastic container for later, and ate. It was very, very good. Though it really needed some chicken, too.
I will start keeping more food around the house. I need to not depend on Tim for meals all the time.
I cheered myself with a bowl of popcorn and a favourite book. It helped...some. But it was a long, awful evening and I came out of it feeling less strong than previously. I don't know.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Love?
Couple of really cool things happened this week.
Three, actually; the third thing is that I got a job. Money is bloody essential at this point and I even like the job, so nearly unalloyed good news, but my online time has been drastically cut back. I'll still try to post here a couple times a week, though.
The really cool things, though. Both sort of small scale, but just ... nice.
Round about Monday or so, Ray and I decided to slip off for a bit of nookie. We usually try to at least let Tim know (and invite him along if so inclined) -- I'm still always a little nervous about excluding one or the other of them, so I try to be careful about it. Tim wasn't so inclined but certainly didn't object to our fun, and I bent down and whispered in his ear that I loved him. So did Ray, which was cute enough as it was, but Tim smiled up at us and said, 'And I love you both'.
You both. It was so sweet and perfect and he just said it as if it were perfectly normal. Which for us, it is.
And then there's Ray. I'm getting awfully fond of him. I've spent some time thinking about how I feel about him, and wondering if 'liking' has slipped over into 'love' and being fairly cautious about things. I've said the L word unwisely before and I want to be really, really sure, this time.
Last night I got Ray connected to a chat thing full of people who are very dear to me. And they thanked him for being part of what's made me so happy out here in Colorado. He got to talking with a few of them about gaming; he's putting together a game for a few of us and wanted some advice. In the discussion it came out that he's been pretty nervous about GMing -- which I didn't know; he's seemed pretty confident about it all so far -- but, he said, he's had a lot of help with the confidence. As he put it, he has two people who love him unconditionally helping him out with things and believing in him.
There have been lots and lots of times where reading that would have squicked me. How dare he assume he knows how I feel? How dare he assume that? I'd've felt trapped, as if I had to pretend to those feelings whether I had them or not. As if I'd led him on.
I sat there and thought, 'Wow. He knows. He understands.
I do love him. I don't know if I'm in love with him yet, but I do love him.
Three, actually; the third thing is that I got a job. Money is bloody essential at this point and I even like the job, so nearly unalloyed good news, but my online time has been drastically cut back. I'll still try to post here a couple times a week, though.
The really cool things, though. Both sort of small scale, but just ... nice.
Round about Monday or so, Ray and I decided to slip off for a bit of nookie. We usually try to at least let Tim know (and invite him along if so inclined) -- I'm still always a little nervous about excluding one or the other of them, so I try to be careful about it. Tim wasn't so inclined but certainly didn't object to our fun, and I bent down and whispered in his ear that I loved him. So did Ray, which was cute enough as it was, but Tim smiled up at us and said, 'And I love you both'.
You both. It was so sweet and perfect and he just said it as if it were perfectly normal. Which for us, it is.
And then there's Ray. I'm getting awfully fond of him. I've spent some time thinking about how I feel about him, and wondering if 'liking' has slipped over into 'love' and being fairly cautious about things. I've said the L word unwisely before and I want to be really, really sure, this time.
Last night I got Ray connected to a chat thing full of people who are very dear to me. And they thanked him for being part of what's made me so happy out here in Colorado. He got to talking with a few of them about gaming; he's putting together a game for a few of us and wanted some advice. In the discussion it came out that he's been pretty nervous about GMing -- which I didn't know; he's seemed pretty confident about it all so far -- but, he said, he's had a lot of help with the confidence. As he put it, he has two people who love him unconditionally helping him out with things and believing in him.
There have been lots and lots of times where reading that would have squicked me. How dare he assume he knows how I feel? How dare he assume that? I'd've felt trapped, as if I had to pretend to those feelings whether I had them or not. As if I'd led him on.
I sat there and thought, 'Wow. He knows. He understands.
I do love him. I don't know if I'm in love with him yet, but I do love him.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Late, late night.
So Tim's been sick as anything. Coughing, achy, fever going up and down and up and down and up and down. Course he didn't tell me about the history of spiking fevers with delirium until last night, so I wasn't too worried until then -- as soon as he said that, I knew I was going to be staying at his and Ray's place for the night instead of my apartment.
For those still catching up, Tim is the gay man mentioned in my earlier post, and my lover. Perhaps an odd thing for a woman to say, but the situation is an odd thing. He's perfectly capable of appreciating a pretty woman; it's the typical female way of thinking that's not attractive to him, and apparently I'm sufficiently male in my thought processes that I count as a guy in his world. Which is fine by me; nay, bloody brilliant. Mostly I try not to think about it too hard, in case it stops working.
Ray is his boyfriend. Ray's more into girls (and he's plenty into me, and vice-versa) but somehow Tim and he work just fine. I did say it was an odd thing, didn't I?
Ray means well, but he also sleeps pretty deeply, and hasn't got a lot of experience with fevers. I do, and I sleep lightly, so I figured I'd crash on the couch and if I heard Tim talking to orcs (which is what he did the last time he had a bad fever), I'd haul his butt to the hospital.
Tim couldn't sleep, so he alternated between lying in bed for a while and snuggling with me on the couch. And the fever went up, and down, and up, and down, and never quite reached 102 but kept coming close. And then the fever would break and he's shiver and I'd wrap the blanket around him and hold him close and pray. And then it'd go up and he'd moan and sweat and ... it was awful.
Probably would have been fine had the thermometer not broken. I can tell if he's warmer than usual but I can't judge it finely enough, so that was when I decided it was time for the hospital run. Woke up Ray, got everyone bundled up and into the car, and off we went.
Which was the part I hadn't been looking forward to. I don't like hospitals much anyway, and on top of that there was the possibility of them giving Ray and I a hard time when we both wanted to stay with Tim.
Which they totally didn't. Didn't blink, didn't look at us funny. Nothing.
Ray went to deal with the financial stuff while I helped Tim out with the triage nurse. He was hanging on pretty hard but I could tell the fever was making him fuzzy-brained. Ray wasn't done when Tim and I went back, but they readily agreed to go and get Ray when he was done with the money.
And there we waited. And I know anyone paying any much attention could tell what was going on. Ray and I holding hands, then Tim and I holding hands, then Tim and Ray holding hands, depending on who was where and needed a hand to hold. I fell asleep against Ray at one point. Ray expresses anxiety by hanging onto Tim and telling him he loves him so I know they got a good eyeful of that. And? Not a blink, not a mutter, not an odd look. Everyone who came in quite deliberately addressed all three of us.
The best part, though, was the way the three of us worked as a team throughout the whole situation. It's what we've been trying for, but it's hard. Tim and I are used to working together; Tim and Ray are used to working together. Ray and I are still getting to know each other (though it's going very, very well so far). And integrating the three of us into a whole has had fits and starts, great leaps forward and a few backward. It's slowly getting better, though. Little by little.
And that's fine. We don't want to rush it; we don't want to rush into anything. I've spent years and years trying to find the right two people to be with and have had it fail terribly every single time before now. I don't want to mess this up; it's got far too much potential to be very, very good.
And Tim? Ibuprofin is keeping the fever under control. He's got a mild case of pneumonia but we caught it early and he's already on drugs. And they gave him a nebulizer treatment for his wheezing.
See, his father has severe emphysema. Can't even visit Tim in Colorado because there simply isn't enough oxygen in the air. Has to do a nebulizer treatment every couple hours or so. Eventually, and probably fairly soon, that emphysema will kill him.
Tim's been trying to quit smoking for years. Hasn't smoked for a couple of days anyway, since he's been so sick. But that nebulizer treatment? Really drove home that if he doesn't do something about it, he's going to be his father. So he's said 'this time, for sure' and I'm going to do what I can to help him stick with that.
I'm at their place now, even though Tim and Ray are both asleep. I don't need to be; Tim's fever is well under control and Ray doesn't seem to be coming down with it. But I just feel better here, where my two men are, blogging and catching up with email, and sneaking into the bedroom every once in a while just to watch them sleep.
For those still catching up, Tim is the gay man mentioned in my earlier post, and my lover. Perhaps an odd thing for a woman to say, but the situation is an odd thing. He's perfectly capable of appreciating a pretty woman; it's the typical female way of thinking that's not attractive to him, and apparently I'm sufficiently male in my thought processes that I count as a guy in his world. Which is fine by me; nay, bloody brilliant. Mostly I try not to think about it too hard, in case it stops working.
Ray is his boyfriend. Ray's more into girls (and he's plenty into me, and vice-versa) but somehow Tim and he work just fine. I did say it was an odd thing, didn't I?
Ray means well, but he also sleeps pretty deeply, and hasn't got a lot of experience with fevers. I do, and I sleep lightly, so I figured I'd crash on the couch and if I heard Tim talking to orcs (which is what he did the last time he had a bad fever), I'd haul his butt to the hospital.
Tim couldn't sleep, so he alternated between lying in bed for a while and snuggling with me on the couch. And the fever went up, and down, and up, and down, and never quite reached 102 but kept coming close. And then the fever would break and he's shiver and I'd wrap the blanket around him and hold him close and pray. And then it'd go up and he'd moan and sweat and ... it was awful.
Probably would have been fine had the thermometer not broken. I can tell if he's warmer than usual but I can't judge it finely enough, so that was when I decided it was time for the hospital run. Woke up Ray, got everyone bundled up and into the car, and off we went.
Which was the part I hadn't been looking forward to. I don't like hospitals much anyway, and on top of that there was the possibility of them giving Ray and I a hard time when we both wanted to stay with Tim.
Which they totally didn't. Didn't blink, didn't look at us funny. Nothing.
Ray went to deal with the financial stuff while I helped Tim out with the triage nurse. He was hanging on pretty hard but I could tell the fever was making him fuzzy-brained. Ray wasn't done when Tim and I went back, but they readily agreed to go and get Ray when he was done with the money.
And there we waited. And I know anyone paying any much attention could tell what was going on. Ray and I holding hands, then Tim and I holding hands, then Tim and Ray holding hands, depending on who was where and needed a hand to hold. I fell asleep against Ray at one point. Ray expresses anxiety by hanging onto Tim and telling him he loves him so I know they got a good eyeful of that. And? Not a blink, not a mutter, not an odd look. Everyone who came in quite deliberately addressed all three of us.
The best part, though, was the way the three of us worked as a team throughout the whole situation. It's what we've been trying for, but it's hard. Tim and I are used to working together; Tim and Ray are used to working together. Ray and I are still getting to know each other (though it's going very, very well so far). And integrating the three of us into a whole has had fits and starts, great leaps forward and a few backward. It's slowly getting better, though. Little by little.
And that's fine. We don't want to rush it; we don't want to rush into anything. I've spent years and years trying to find the right two people to be with and have had it fail terribly every single time before now. I don't want to mess this up; it's got far too much potential to be very, very good.
And Tim? Ibuprofin is keeping the fever under control. He's got a mild case of pneumonia but we caught it early and he's already on drugs. And they gave him a nebulizer treatment for his wheezing.
See, his father has severe emphysema. Can't even visit Tim in Colorado because there simply isn't enough oxygen in the air. Has to do a nebulizer treatment every couple hours or so. Eventually, and probably fairly soon, that emphysema will kill him.
Tim's been trying to quit smoking for years. Hasn't smoked for a couple of days anyway, since he's been so sick. But that nebulizer treatment? Really drove home that if he doesn't do something about it, he's going to be his father. So he's said 'this time, for sure' and I'm going to do what I can to help him stick with that.
I'm at their place now, even though Tim and Ray are both asleep. I don't need to be; Tim's fever is well under control and Ray doesn't seem to be coming down with it. But I just feel better here, where my two men are, blogging and catching up with email, and sneaking into the bedroom every once in a while just to watch them sleep.
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