Just sitting here with the cats, catching up on e-mail, eBay auctions, friends entries, and TV recorded on the DVR. I started watching an older Oprah show about child trafficking and it was so upsetting I had to turn it off. I stayed up too late last night trying to catch up on wishing friends here Happy Birthday. If you figure that I have the max number of friends on Live Journal, which I think is two thousand (?) that's an average of six birthdays per day. I'm not online every day, sometimes I'll go a couple of weeks without checking my e-mail or logging in, and when I do that, oh Lordy, that can leave me with seventy-five journals or more to visit.
I know most people weed out their friend's lists, and try to keep them pretty sleek, but I can't bear to do that, I like everyone here too much to ever want to exclude anyone, even though that means that I can't give everyone the attention I think they deserve. Most of the time I don't even notice when people add or delete me until I do an update and then I get sad because I end up losing good people due to my lack of attention to them, or it could be because I haven't posted any vintage erotica in a long time, or haven't posted enough pictures of cats, heh, heh.
I cut my fingers so badly last night that I thought I was going to have to drive myself over to the ER at UCLA. I have two kitties who can't keep weight on. I've been trying everything to fatten them up. I feed them the same healthy food that we feed everyone else, and then I try to tempt them with extra meals of baby food and fresh turkey or chicken. Esther, (my housekeeper/pal), will usually leave a few jars of baby food for me up in my room before she leaves, so I won't have to run the animal gamut back down to the kitchen at night. She leaves the jars of baby food and turkey in my shower, which is where I feed Curly Girl and Rook their extra meals.
My shower is all marble and tile and Esther had left the two jars on the hard marble bench. I guess some of the cats got in and accidentally broke one of the jars of baby food by knocking it to the floor. It didn't look broken because it was held together by the label and the cap. When I went to feed the kitties I put the turkey on their little paper plates and then I picked up the jar of baby food. When I tried to open the cap I squeezed the bottom of the jar with my left hand and I could just feel the shattered glass give way beneath my fingers. It made the most sickening sound as it ripped into my fingertips.
I screamed, dropped the jar, and baby food and glass went everywhere. There was baby food all over my fingertips, and because I need reading glasses, I couldn't see the shards of glass that were stuck in my fingertips so I had to kind of feel for them to pull them out, but then the blood started pooling up and dripping everywhere. Then finally I felt the pain breaking through the numbness and shock that your body uses as a kind of protective defense mechanism in these sorts of situations and I realized that I needed help.
Despite all the blood and the worry that I'd sliced off the top of one of my fingers my main concern was the cats who were closing in on the splattered baby food. I didn't want them to eat any glass but my fingers were useless so I ran for the house phone to call Beau for help. In the process I sent blood flying and dripping everywhere. Poor Beau, I don't know what he must have thought when he got to my bathroom and saw the mess. I ran my bleeding fingers under the faucet in my bidet, cleaned off all the baby food and picked out the last little bits of glass, and then I saw how deep one of the cuts was. It wouldn't stop bleeding for the longest time which is why I thought I might need a stitch or two, but then it finally stopped bleeding and I was so relieved when it did. And Beau was so cute, he helped me with everything, and then he knocked on the glass window that separates my toilet from the bathroom and made the little underwater sign for, "Are you okay?" that we use to signal to each other when we're scuba diving.
I'm fine now, everything is healing up nicely, but it's amazing how dramatic things seem when blood is involved.
Today was such a strange day. I was strange today. Like I said before, I'd stayed up really late last night, and slept in super late today. Beau woke me up by knocking on my bedroom door to tell me that Robby, (his Father, my ex), would be here in fifteen minutes to help him hang some shelves in his room. Well, this might seem like a fairly normal scenario but I rarely see my ex and Beau only sees him about three or four times a year. His coming over here to help us with anything is something that has never happened before.
Even though it's been years since he left, I have Scott, and Robby has had dozens of other girlfriends since we split, there is still so much between us that was never resolved, and despite years of trying to work through this, it's hard to put a fourteen year marriage behind you when you don't have any help or support from the other partner, and naturally I'm still hurting. Robby, who was never a particularly introspective fellow, has long since moved on, and it isn't likely that he wakes up in a panic after having had a dream that he was married to me again, like I do.
Here's an example of a pretty typical exchange between us, not that we have too many exchanges since we rarely speak; After Beau told me that Robby was on his way, I called to tell him that I wanted to be certain he, (Oh wow, it's really hurting using my wounded fingers to type, ouch,) wasn't going to judge me for the condition of the house, the numbers of cats, the fact that I'd gained back some of the weight I'd lost, and that I was worried he'd be thinking, "Phew, thank God I left, I'm well rid of her," stupid, ridiculous, insecure things like that, and he said, "Well, I don't think about any of that until you bring it up." That's all. Typical Robby. He was never any good at dealing with my insecurity, never.
In an ideal world he'd be able to say, "Oh babe, don't worry, I'll always love you, it doesn't matter what you look like, or the way the house is. I don't have a right to judge you. I'm just happy you've been such a good mother to our son and I'm really glad it looks like we're finally putting the past behind us." But that wouldn't be like him at all. In fact I don't think I've ever met the man who would say something like this, at least not outside of a romance novel, or the Lifetime Movie Channel.
So Robby came over, and we all hung out in Beau's room while he did the first fatherly thing he's done for Beau in over ten years. The best thing about Robby is his sense of humour. He has this incredible wit, this flash fast repartee, and he kept us all laughing our asses off for hours. This is what confused me, this old pattern that we fall right back into whenever we're together. Like any couple with a shared past there are these old jokes and memories that only we share, and he'll say and do things that remind me of when it was good between us, which breaks my heart because I miss that so much. I miss laughing so often and so hard that it makes me cry.
I don't miss his restless spirit, his craving for constant stimulation, his drinking, his insensitivity, his ambivalence about loving us both, his ambivalence about really loving anyone, and the constant insecurity and desire to make him love me no matter the cost. I would much rather be where I am now, in a relationship where I feel safe, (As safe as I can feel I suppose,) and loved and trusted, in a relationship where I can trust my partner, where we care about each other's feelings and needs, where communication isn't as much of a struggle, where the man I'm with is much more mature, and when we make love, (which isn't often enough), it isn't like being with someone who isn't there at all, it's much more passionate and a true communion of two people who love each other equally. Even though Scott and I have our problems, he feeds me, whereas Robby always starved me, which is sad because I really do miss him, but it's the truth, and it's easy to forget the truth when someone is as good at being funny, charming, and light as Robby is.
So this is what I have to remind myself of, this is what I have to keep in the forefront of my mind when he comes over and charms his poor neglected son in front of me. I have to remember that I will always love him, (Because that's just the way I am, once I love someone, I think I'll always love them, time and distance don't ever change this, I think it's a gift), but I do not want to be married to him, and that means that I have to let him go, somehow I have to find some way to let him go, because I don't want him back again. It just gets confusing because it seems as if he was the one who rejected me, and in this culture, where men can age and still be considered sexy and desirable, while women can't do this as easily, it makes me feel pretty crappy that he keeps dating younger and prettier women who he dumps as soon as they begin to need things and make demands. He only seems to want the ones who don't want him. Poor guy, he's such a textbook case of intimacy avoidance, but I can't do anything about it, I tried for years and it isn't my business any more. I just don't like the feeling I have when I'm around him, the insecure thoughts that come up and tell me I'm old and unattractive and that Beau reflects back to me when he unthinkingly says things like, "Are you really the same age as Dad because he seems so much cooler and younger than you do."
Oh there was so much more I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about my continued efforts to collect my Granny's and Mother's vintage dresses. I wanted to post pictures of some of the ones I've bought recently. I finally got not only one but two of these gowns I've been trying to track down for years. I wanted to write about Atra's sister Maryam's daughter's, (did you get that?) graduation party tomorrow, that we're all going to go to, but Beau came and begged me to help him suck out some water from his fish tank, because he found some more guppy babies and wanted to clean it out some more, so I did, and then he begged me to watch some more Weebl and Bob and it got even later, and now I have to go to sleep, so goodnight my ol' pals.
Big weary late night, or early morning, hugs,
PS: One thing I really do love about staying up ridiculously late, so late that it's about to become morning, is the sound of the birds waking up in the trees outside my window, sweet little things. I wish there was some way to make them trust me so I could hold them on my fingers and kiss them : )
And just in case you've got a moment to waste here while you drink your tea or coffee, as you begin your day while I am finally ending mine, here's a very important song from the makers of rathergood.com called My Cat's Got Knees. The miniature giraffe catching video is pretty good as well, and someone snagged the spelling of my name over there -- must do something about this.
Oh and wait, almost done, just in case you're a fan of really weird ring tones, the kind that freak people out when they hear one emanating from the dark recesses of a large expensive purse, go see what David Lynch has come up with. I'm particularly tickled by the idea of my having a ring tone that says, "I like to kill deer," in a deep scary voice -- something about the completely unpredicatable oddness of that, how it would make anyone who knows me scratch their heads in wonder, thrills me.