Oh, Willoughby

I have been listening to Sense and Sensibility... I couldn't decide what I wanted to do more, read or knit, so I decided to do both.

I am just over halfway through and while I want so much to be as sensible as Elinor, I fear that I am resigned to be silly Marianne. Following my heart down a path that doesn't exist with very little clarity or encouragement from the object of my affection.

Damn you, Willoughby.

And of course, if the supposition is true, we are all better off without him... however little comfort that may be right now. Marianne was not at all comforted by the discovery of his failings. It just served to make her feel more ridiculous for loving him in the first place.

Yup. Fucking Willoughby.

I'm sure that she will find her way out of this melancholy. I'm sure she will find an appropriate match. Because really, Marianne? Know what the difference is between life with Willoughby and without him? Not a fucking thing... except that without him you can stop pacing in front of the window looking for his carriage and you can stop racing to meet the afternoon post and you can leave the house without worrying that you'll miss his call.

But that doesn't help much either. Because I know that Marianne and I are both hoping against hope that something will happen in the end to redeem him... that her love will not have been in vain and he will come to her all sweet and earnest.

She's just a child, so her hope makes some sense, but I know better.

Now that it's over...

I finally got my keys back.

The whole thing took about thirty seconds... and he said more to my cat than he did to me.

One person who knows both of us said that he was probably dragging it out because he didn't want to deal with it...
Sure, avoidance is something that Tigger does best... but THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU BREAK UP!

And the whole breaking up thing? Not actually my idea. I wanted the things that he said to me to actually MEAN something. And I wanted to not feel like crap.

Dragging it out was just humiliating and mean.
I shouldn't have to get angry before you do what you should have done in the first place.

Another person who knows both of us thinks that not saying anything to me was probably the smartest thing he's done in a long time.
Maybe.
But engaging me in conversation was not going to get uncomfortable, really. It's not like anything I would have to say would mean anything anyway, so I wasn't planning to waste the energy.

And that is all I have to say about that.
I promise.

Shock

I can not effectively express my shock and anger and sadness today.
I could write for days and never really get to the heart of how I'm feeling.

There is safety for all women when Choice is protected. Today, in this city, a man was killed because he made protecting women his life goal. He was gunned down in front of his church because he provided safety and comfort to women who made a difficult decision.

I feel less safe now that he is gone.

What do we do now? Where do we go now that this brave, gentle man has been taken from us? Where do we take our sisters and best friends in crisis now? Who will keep them safe?

One man with a gun and a misguided sense of right and wrong has damaged us all.

Birthday

Today is Jeff's birthday... he would have been 32.
Two years ago right now we were at a Cubs game and it gave me this big wave of hope that carried us through another couple of months.
Because he loved me... even if it wasn't enough to make a difference.

When I talk to Bean about it I remind her that he was happier with us - even at the end when he was altered - than he had been in the rest of his life. With us he was a husband and a father, two things he never thought he would be. And (in the beginning) he was funny and sweet and smart...

So for his birthday I thought I would do the thing that is always hardest for me... remember some of the good things.

1. When I couldn't sleep at night he would come in and curl up with me and rub my back and stroke my hair until I fell asleep.
2. Before my first KIP meeting I panicked and almost didn't go and he gave me a pep talk and made me take that first step.
3. I had no idea what a picky eater he was for a long time because when we were dating and I cooked for him he would try everything.
4. After my HSG he brought me home and put me to bed and then gave me lunch, Loritab and Ben and Jerry's Karmal Sutra. In that order.
5. During out pre-marriage counseling the pastor asked us about whether we were planning to have more kids. Before I could say anything he said, "It would be great, but we have an amazing daughter already."
6. He took care of his mom - doing her laundry and mowing her lawn and hauling things around for her. Even when she was horrible to him. Even at the end when it must have been painful for him to even walk.
7. He always made an effort to be sweet to Bean... even at the end.
8. The day we got married he stood on the other side of the wall from me and held my hand until it was time to start.

OK. That's all I can do today. I loved him, and losing him to his mental illness and alcoholism was the hardest, most horrible thing I have ever gone through. But I miss him. I miss the life we could have had - should have had.

Finished!!

Socks are done!!

Pretty!
I entered them in the Twist Final Friday competition. (Come by and vote for me!!)

I'm starting a new pair of Tidal Wave socks in a bit. They're for a friend from high school... I promised her a pair of socks on Facebook, so I thought I ought to follow through.

Bean survived her last day of school. She even has a "replacement crush" for the boy who is moving on to high school next year. (Forehead smack).
It's going to be a long summer.

We're going to hang out this week and then her dad will take her for a week. It's a nice balance.

I don't know what I'm going to do with myself this summer though. Hopefully there will be a job, but with no school and no relationship to occupy my time I may have to resort to cleaning or something.

Surely it won't come to that.

Poke, Poke, Poke

My neck is better, thanks in large part to the ladies at Bohemia. Kali is my hero. I told her about the last two months of my life and she was sweet and nurturing and lovely - and then she put about a million needles in me and made me feel better. She "activated my protectors" and "opened my hope threshold." Or something.

Apparently every man is not an island, apparently every man is an emperor and every man's body is an empire. And there are seven protectors guarding the empire. And mine have been sleepy.

So she woke them up. With needles.

Speaking of needles, I a almost finished with my challenge socks. I'm excited!! I honestly don't care about winning... but it just feels so good to have a goal and reach it on time. (Ask me how I know).

I'm torn now, between picking up a WIP and starting a new pair of socks... of course, I could start a new pair of socks and pull out a WIP. It's not like I'm a one-project-at-a-time girl anyway. Clearly.

I also started the Jane Austen reading challenge tonight. Which is not to say that I have actually started the book... but I went to the first meeting and that has to count for something! And Andie was there and Deb, and "Noro Lady" from Twist and also a woman named Carol who is from a small town near here and the reason I know that is because I saw her knitting and practically forced her to sit with us.

Because I can be pushy like that.

With all of this free time I should have the whole book done already, along with the Literary Feast book, but I haven't really made a dent in either. I've been sleeping mostly. And knitting. And watching television.

Nothing to See Here...

I pulled a muscle in my neck... so have been sort of quiet and restful the past few days.

I'm still working on my sock - it has to be done by Final Friday if I'm going to get in in the contest so I'm trying to balance resting with knitting.
It's a hard life.

New stuff...

That Bad Bad Man is no longer bad, or bad. He's just gone, and also gone. And that's OK.

I signed up to take a sewing class... and I got measured and bought fabric. The fabric store lady said that by the end of class I wouldn't be afraid of my sewing machine anymore. We'll see.

I got my hair cut. Way cut. The girl I went to hesitated so long that I offered to make the first cut myself. She was afraid I was going to cry. I was like, "Sweetie? It's just hair. And mine? GROWS." That next morning in the shower I was washing it thinking maybe I should have gone shorter.

I had a nice lunch with one of my favorite husbands yesterday and found out that his best friend (someone I know tangentially) is sick. ALS. That kind of sick. He's still working and not many people know yet, so I'm fighting the urge to call him... but I think that blanket I was making for That Bad Bad Man has a new mission.

And now I am off to Mom and Dad's house for steak and swimming.