It was a long summer what with my broken ankle and John's broken wrist and our broken bank accounts... It very nearly broke both of our spirits. But here we stand, alas. Living proof that you can't keep the working man down. This means that I returned to work at the end of July ( two days before my birthday, yay) and that things have slowly returned to our fucked up, branded version of normal. Halloween and Thanksgiving were quite good. We got trick-or-treaters for the first time in ever which is a big deal to us because we lived in the woods in Connecticut and never got not nary a one. This year, we got like 15. Six of them in one fell swoop in the beginning and they were being led by a 5'8" 13 year old girl who looked and behaved like a character straight off the pages of some Erskine Caldwell novel.
Thanksgiving, after much soul-searching and deliberation and teeth-gritting, was hosted at our house. I jest of course. Oh, we hosted alright, but it was fun. The night after was more fun because the small ones were all home with their frazzled, highly tolerant parents and the growed-ups re-convened at our house again and we ate lots and talked lots and re-bonded. I love you, younguns, if you're reading this years from now and trying to decide if I'm worth the mediocre resthome. But sometimes big folk need to be able to converse with one another with out interruption. It keeps us clinging to sanity and it keeps y'all out of foster care.
Christmas was another matter all together. It was not fun. Not for us anyway. Lotta loss, lotta folks not there who should've been there. That being said, I didn't take our tree down until a couple of days ago. I think I kept hoping the spirit and pleasantry would swoosh over me and I could run over and turn on the lights and drink a big mug of hot cocoa bullshit... but it never was. So I gave in and disassembled and tucked it away in the spare bedroom for next year. Hoping it'll feel better and right then. It may. But there's a whole heaping of grief inside of me and it wells up and pours out on a near daily basis. Loss is a natural progression of life. I'm trying to be Tao about it. Each day brings its own set of challenges. That's it... I'm 'bout done with the one-liners.
In other news, I just gotta say that I'm pretty fucking pissed and sad about Phillip Seymour Hoffman's death. It broke on Twittter an hour or so ago and I can't express how wrong and tragic it is. He was pure genius and pure talent.