Not Broken, Just Bent.

(Scene opens. It is dark. It's 9* out, wind chill is -20*. We are in an unheated barn, lit with 3 bare light bulbs.)
(Cue wind howling sound effect.)
(Cue cows chewing sound effect.)

Horse Chaser, (shoveling) - "Now, won't you be glad to get back to your nice warm apartment!"

Self, (shoveling) - "Sweetheart, this shit right here is predicable. It even freezes predictably. Cow + food + time always equals shit. If something happens and shit isn't the outcome, we both know something has gone terribly wrong. The book says so.
Now the type of shit I shovel regularly, it's not ever so wonderfully predictable, which means you don't know when it's going to hit the fan, you only know it will. So to speak"

Horse Chaser (pausing) - "Well, there's that. You're welcome to my shit anytime."

Self, (picking up pick axe and menacing frozen cow shit) - "You're so kind."

Last Christmas was a day of never ending chunk blowing suck. I know, I just checked. Those were my words.

This year, we got up, exchanged presents, and now mom is puttering with her brandy-new electric griddle. Chances are I'll get pancakes out of this deal. It's a pretty good deal.

Dad is irritated by the amount we spent on presents, but to that I say "Bahh!" I have a job that allows me to get things they want/need, damnit, so I'm going to.

There's a great sense of sorrowful releaf, so different from the acute grief of last year. Last year was a time of shock, reaction and intense loss.

This year, this time around, it's so very... relaxing. A strange thing to say, true, but that selfish part of me thinks "Well, at least now I get to hang out with my mom". My mom, whom I've missed very much these past holidays, gets to stay home, in her jammies, and just be. She can make us pancakes if she wants to, or just watch the food network if she wants. She doesn't have to be at anyone's beck and call.
It's fabulous. I've missed my mom.

So I guess, things aren't that bad. I mean, they are, but they're different. Mellower. Still a bucket of suck, but not soul-wrenching, mind blowing suck. Manageable suck.

I smell pancakes and blueberry sauce.
I have to go get reacquainted with my mother now.


I hope you all have a wonderfully peaceful holiday.
With hugs and love,
- k.