Also

I forgot Christmas, Seahawk Sundays, two brawls, Big Jim and Bill. Now they have passed by and we are well into the New Year. So perhaps I will make some time to talk about all this stuff. But this is a note to flag my memory and also to not forget that it happened.

Wherewithal

The cold air in this recent front has sucked any moisture out of the air. My lips are rosy red and chapped. I have been boiling water on the stove-top for days, putting moisture into the air. One night at the tail end of my own cold, I woke from sleep in the deep of the night and felt like I was going to crack in half.

An arid desert, dried and desperate for moisture. I got up and started boiling pots of water on the stove and after about an hour sat up in wonder from where I lay on the couch wrapped in a blanket, and inhaled deeply through two nostrils. A defining moment in the end of my cold. Breathing through two nostrils. Inhaling again deeply, alone in the house and room. I felt like I was finally, ah..what is the word..glanced around the living room and noticed the condensation on the glass of my front door. Saturated. The humidity covering the window in steam.Yes I felt saturated, my pores replenished.

In a small town the gossip, tales and stories can make you feel the same. Like saturated.. but in fat; gossip can pervade your pores, blood and bones. Saturated fat.. and gossip.. yep great analogy. Did I forget this part of living here. Maybe.

Now a week later I have recovered from the effects of disease and gossip. But. But then again Nick comes into the house this morning and someone I care about deeply has been arrested. Arrested for working in a bar. Yep that sounds asinine. Arrested for working. So the question of the morning.. who sold him out? Who gossiped about him? Nick and I have this conversation in quiet tones, because this is serious in so many ways. Who sold him out?

These thoughts run through my mind as I head back to my bedroom to finish this blog. A flash of memory runs through my veins. That scene in Heat, where Ashley Judd stands on the portico outside her hotel room and gives a silent signal to her husband Val Kilmer, to not sell him out. In this small tight knit town, that kind of sell out is just wrong. Who the fuck did it?

This time it is my blood that is boiling.


Snitch:

betrayer, blabbermouth, canary, deep throat, double-crosser, fink, informant, narc, nark, rat, sneak, snitcher, source, squealer, stool pigeon, stoolie, tattler, tattletale, tipster, turncoat, weasel, whistle-blower

Step up or step out

The question of the day will he step up or step out. What a heartbreaking weekend. Seahawks lost and Nick is still lost.

Facing a cusp.

Cusp: The dividing line between two very different things.

Friends only or everything. I want it all. I want him to step up and be the man I need him to be. And just once I would like a man to choose me over all.

PHEW... what a peak.
The Holidays are over and I'm busy, busy at work.

Yesterday all day long, I thought of all the things I was going to do today. My day off, in fact I even made a list.

Put away Christmas
Dump
Wood/loft/or Craig's list...exercise bike, tires.
Make cookies and tamales
Get paintings ready to hang at Mama's
Stretch the new canvas

Then I woke up exhausted.

It is the first two days off in a row in nine days after working twelve hour days or more with overtime. I'm fucking tired and just want to lay around and catch up on sleep and the pleasurable things. So that is what I'm going to do. New list...

Lay around in bed
Stay in pajama's
Drink tea in bed with kindle
Open and write in the new journal
Write a blog
Have lunch with Laura
Take a picture of the icicles and ice ceiling that has formed on my roof, that I should go beat with a broom but not gonna...

View out my office window