I'm having my nice little breakdown here. Crying a lot. Overwhelmed. Really overwhelmed. The house looks like an 18-wheeler ran through it, then backed up (beep! beep! beep!) and ran it through again.

Over a week ago, I decided to attack the laundry that never got done. The piles at the bottom of the laundry chute. The stuff that had been sitting ignored (CD was in charge of laundry, I want to say it right here, OK? In charge of getting it clean. Is this noted for the record?). You know, blankets that needed washing. Summer clothes that got sorted out when winter came along. Hell if I know all the reasons.

Elia and I took a box of garbage bags and gathered it all up. We braved the chaos that is the basement and looked under beds and in the back corners of the closets. And we found 16 bags' worth.

I am SO not kidding.

I made CD turn himself around the moment he came home and help ferry me and the 16 bags and the jumbo bottle of Tide to the laundromat. I was in a royal snit. I mean... 16 bags?! I'm talking the big green bags here, not the skinny white ones.

And they got washed, and they got dried, and they got reloaded into the bags and into baskets and all stowed back in the van and then heaved and carried in the dark cold from the driveway into the family room.

Ah, but then what?

Then they had to be pulled out of the bags. And folded. And sorted. And good Lord, ironed. And some needed to be rewashed. And some mended. And some donated.

I have sat on that blasted coach, every day since, doing a little bit at a time.

Yes, it is not done yet.

Stewing, and angry, and blaming CD but not knowing why - other than the obvious that hey, he's a slob and that pisses me off in general.

Spring clean trips to the laundromat happen every year. All comforters, pillows, throw rugs and sundries. Things too big for our machines. A sweep of it all, to rinse away the dust of the long winter.

This year, however, as I try and get it all put away my brain is also doing a spring clean. With nothing to drag my attention away - like crazy managers and insane deadlines - my mind tries to process all the stuff it pushed away for the past half-decade. Just like the 16 bags of laundry.

Suddenly I find myself in these fugue flashes... experiencing the loss, and betrayal, and exhaustion more deeply now than I did back then, in the moment.

And it hurts.

It hurts to strip the rest away. I mean, of course I am still Bear's mother. I am CD's wife. I am my mother's daughter and my friend's friend and former soldier of a Fortune 200 corporation.

But in these days, with no fixed engagements and no meetings demanding attention.... there is mostly just this. And the laundry.

And I .... HATE folding laundry.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 08:02 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
Post contains 524 words, total size 3 kb.

Is it wrong that I am so happy about a television show?? That I am so excited about this whole Josh and Donna thing on the West Wing?

Ever since I saw the promo showing them kiss in the next episode, I've been squeeing.

(This, I am told, is the technically correct term for the little exclamation squeal that accompanies my highly dignified tail-wiggling and hand-waving dance of joy.)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:34 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 71 words, total size 1 kb.

I want to thank you for your comments and emails of support. Friday afternoon was probably the most melancholy of my life. And that's saying something for a sentimental fool such as myself.

I don't think I have ever felt more alone in my life. More aimless, superfluous, or insignificant.

When CD came home, it only took one look at me to know that I had let go of my grip on the cliff.

He did what any superhero would do.

He made reservations.

So, Friday night, there we were...walking into our favorite local restaurant, It has wonderful food, eclectic atmosphere, and crayons for kids. Dee joined us there. To celebrate the begining of, well, maybe the end of...?

Anyway, Bear had a hamburger, French fries and milk.

We had bruschetta and cocktails. We had steaks and martinis. We had crème brûlée and port.

We had hangovers.

Saturday morning, CD and I played the "Parent Possum" game. It goes like this - both parents awake at the sound of the child and then see who can pretend to stay asleep longest. Or at least until the other one gives in and gets up.

After a few long moments, I propped up on my elbow and squinted at my husband. One look at his grimace, and I pulled myself from under the covers.

Poor CD.

Despite my advancing age, gender, and general all-around lazy state of health ... he was much worse off than me.

He claims it was the chocolate martini that did him in, but I know it was that I drank the port and he didn't.

I am new to port.

Port rocks.

In fact, I am so enamored of port that I ran out to buy a couple of bottles - a Late Bottled Vintage and a Tawny - the next day. A red wine I can get behind, is all I'm saying. My doctor will be so pleased.

Monday morning, I woke up and got Bear ready for school and then.... went to my office and sat down. My feet took me there before my brain could figure out what was going on.

[Brain]: Uh, feet, dudes, where we going?

[Feet]: Where we always go in the morning. Duh.

[Brain]: That sounds reasonable. Let's stop in the kitchen for some port on the way.

By the time I plopped my fanny in the chair, I was already feeling a panic. I sat and stared at my computer monitor completely at a loss. What was I doing there?

[Brain]: Hey, feet, let's go.

[Feet]: Go? Where? You mean, walk? Walk? Because, seriously, we don't do that anymore. We get you to this brown room and then we have to take a break. Union rules. Read our contract. Really.

[Brain]: You lazy shits! C'mon, c'mon. We need to stretch and move. Explore. New vistas, unknown country. It's the first day of the rest of our lives and all that...

[Feet]: You've got to be kidding us. Look. We get you to the brown room. Then you take over. Year in, year out. Ya dig?

[Brain]: You know, there's a pair of skimpy golden pumps in the back of the closet. The ones with the 4-inch heels-

[Feet]: You wouldn't dare!

[Ass]: Look, you two, can I say something here?

[Brain] & [Feet]: NO!

[Brain]: Feet, don't fail me now. All I'm asking is that we try something new. A step at a time. That's all. A step at a time....

[Feet]: Just one step at a time?

[Brain]: I promise. Cross my synapses and hope to die.

[Feet]: Well, all right then. If you can convince ass to get outta this chair than I can take you there. A step at a time.

[Ass]; As if, you-

[Feet]: Don't MAKE me kick you, because you know I can!

[Brain]: Ladies, ladies. Let's work together here. We got whole new worlds to explore. Ready?

[Feet] & [Ass]: Let's do it...

And that's when I turned off the monitor, and took the first step.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:29 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 682 words, total size 4 kb.

1 YAY! I'm so proud of you! And so happy for you. You also would have loved the Port wine dinner I attended last week. 4 different ones. Fabulous. A lecture, too, on the history of them.

Posted by: RP at February 17, 2006 05:25 AM (LlPKh)

2 We play "Parent Possum" in our house too - but I always seems to loose Glad to hear you enjoyed your evening out. After last week, you deserved it!!

Posted by: Helene at February 17, 2006 05:52 AM (sqed0)

3 Sounds like a wonderful way to celebrate (except for the hangover part) Hoping that this week has been a good transition for all of you!

Posted by: caltechgirl at February 17, 2006 06:38 AM (/vgMZ)

4 Port good. Walking, good. Sounds good so far! By the way, I'd be happy to take you out for port one of these days soon. In celebration of new vistas, and all!

Posted by: laura at February 17, 2006 03:22 PM (FzMzF)

5 Through trial and error, we no longer do the possum game on the weekends. Saturday mornings the hubs gets up with the kidlings. Sunday mornings are my turn. This way we each get to sleep in.

Posted by: Grace at February 17, 2006 04:24 PM (L058b)

6 Yay! I am also proud of and happy for you. Your feet/brain/ass convo was hillarious. As for parent possum...does it count if you're just playing it with the dogs? If so, we do that all the time too.

Posted by: beth at February 18, 2006 01:22 AM (2qc7C)

7 I wish my brain would talk to my ass, thighs, and hips more. Maybe they'd finally listen for once. “The distance is nothing; it is only the first step that is difficult.” - Madame Marie du Deffand Congratulations, dear.

Posted by: ieatcrayonz at February 18, 2006 03:33 AM (T/CTF)

8 Of all the posts I'd think you would write, a conversation between your feet, ass and brain was never one of them! Hee hee. I hope you're settling in nicely to your new life. One step at a time. Remember that.

Posted by: Lucinda at February 18, 2006 01:58 PM (OPvIN)

9 I'm so proud of you!! This has got to be quite a shock to your system. Just remember, when "Friends" went off the air, not even Jennifer Anniston knew what to do with the sudden free time. And she has people who THINK for her! I'm not a fan of port, but chocolate martinis are my absolute favourite thing in the whole world. My favourite place here in the boonies has them, and cajun chicken ceasar salad to die for. It has warm fresh green beans in it. Trust me. It's goooooood.

Posted by: Tammy at February 18, 2006 02:07 PM (M++hX)

10 Port is just about the best way I know to end a meal... even better if there's good, dark chocolate to go with it. Yum. I hope your brain, ass and feet continue to cooperate. Quite a transition you're making, but I know (all of) you can do it.

Posted by: Kimberly at February 19, 2006 08:19 AM (CXd4V)

11 yay. that's awesome. (mainly thinking about the transition, here, but the discovery of port is its own momentous occasion.) wishing you joyous support from afar ...

Posted by: alice at February 21, 2006 07:49 AM (DeROi)

12 SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!! Hurray! I know it will take time to settle in, but this is such a wonderful thing.

Posted by: halloweenlover at February 22, 2006 05:41 AM (cdEd4)

13 That's beautiful. And hilarious. Good luck with that western sandy town thing. I live in one (in New Mexico) and used to live in another (in New Mexico.) It ain't so bad. : ) (Unless it's really, really, small, then I complain about other things...but never mind all that...)

Posted by: Krisco at February 22, 2006 03:34 PM (xksTj)

14 That was great! Thanks for sharing. How was your 1st day?

Posted by: Eyes at February 23, 2006 04:46 AM (L67iN)

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I slip in the Coldplay as I slip into traffic. The snow swirls, the tail lights make foggy red halos, the heater tries to kick in.

They call this 'lake effect' snow, but I have never known what that means. It's not special, except that it's slowing us all down. I glance at the clock and sigh.

Can't be late.

When I was growing up, I hated being the last one. The girl leaning against the wall and watching the door. Wandering if I'd been forgotten.

I won't do that to Bear.

I press the gas, flip my blinker, find a little space in another lane. In a split second, I'm down a side street. Weaving like a New York cab in slow motion.

The Scientist plays;

Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on a silence apart...
Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard

When I was my father's daughter, I loved visiting him at work and playing grown-up at his desk. He'd give me a pen and a pad of legal paper all of my own. Crisp white sheets with faint blue lines, waiting to be filled up.

Questions of science

Science and progress

Do not speak as loud as my heart

I'm so tired of this. The constant evaluating of my life and these decisions sours me, like a metallic aftertaste. There are others out there, grappling twisting living struggling laughing crying working in their own lives.

Margi has brought home her new son, born premature but growing strong. Sol has walked away from her career, too. She tends to her own boy, while two new hearts grow beneath hers. Helen dreams/seeks/is making a baby while alternating between globetrotting and having knighted people give her awards.

I watch Philip with admiration as he's found ways to fight his constant pain. Pain that won't be treated, won't be cured, and carves into his days. As Kalisah has looked for the silver lining after waking up one day to find herself fired.

There is no time, left, now. To agonize about a decision already made. To paralyze myself with those fears.

Lessons abound. Faith. Strength. Grace. Humor. I push my mind to them. Tentatively, I force myself to let go of the thick bundles of terror and doubt that have gripped me for so long. They slide away, slowly. It hurts.

The future is beginning, now.

Clocks starts, the cascading synth intro echoing.

Come out upon my seas,
Cursed missed opportunities
Am I a part of the cure
Or am I part of the disease, singing

Today CD found a second job. Maybe. Probably. After months of me pacing and shouting and begging him to find something better than he has now.

He'd say "Better paying jobs don't fall from the sky!"

And I'd accuse him of not trying hard enough. Of not wanting to take care of us. Another of my secret fears. And he'd grow silent, impassive.

A few hours later, he'd walked quietly into my office. Stroke my hair as I typed away. Offer to get me a drink.

The sparks of a once-passionate love glowing again. And I'd touch his hand. And we'd pause. The hope lives here, still.

Thinking of it, thinking of the possible second job, thinking of his willingness to work 6 days a week, thinking of those lessons of faith. Think and pushing a few more of those paralyzing bundles off the cliff of my brain. To the place where the names of acquaintances go, where the location of my glasses goes. Gone into a chasm, never to return.

And the gray clouds overhead seem lighter somehow. The roads clearer. The last mile easy. The traffic lights go my way.

I pull up at Bear's school and slide into the carpool lane. My plastic number in my windshield. My claim ticket for his bright blue eyes and pink chubby cheeks. The teachers move quickly through the little cyclones of snow that race up and down the sidewalks.

The kids are ecstatic. As they exit the school in one's and two's and stand on the line waiting to be escorted to cars, they laugh and look up. They nudge each other and throw back their heads in wonder.

My turn, and I unlock the doors with one hand and flip the switch for the automatic door with the other. Whipping off his backpack, Bear climbs in with a grin that could be used as an alternative power source.

"Snow!" he announces. "Enough for snowballs!"

And as he pulls on his seatbelt, and I push the button to close the door against the wind, the clouds actually drift past. The sun bursts through like an explosion, blinding us in reflection against the new snow.

I squint and wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Whoa," Bear says slowly. "That's like the sun coming from heaven."

And I agree. "Beautiful World" starts thrumming from the speakers.

Here we go, here we go

And we live in a beautiful world,
Yeah we do, yeah we do,
We live in a beautiful world...
Oh, all that I know,
There's nothing here to run from,
'Cause everybody here's got somebody to lean on.

The future is beginning, now.

Bring it.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 11:21 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 990 words, total size 6 kb.

Dear World,

I have written, posted, and then deleted 2 3 4 5 6 posts in the last few days. More than a strong indicator of my present level of craziness (If I were a terror level, I would SO be Ernie), I know this is bad, bad, no-good blog manners and I humbly apologize.

Please forgive me.

I read what I write and realize that I am mumbling, ranting, nonsensical (and not in a lyrical James Joyce way). I realize that I wheelie across boundaries, use poor grammar, swipe at the people I love, gaze profoundly at my own navel, wallow and wallow some more in a pity party I am giving myself, and generally act a mallow-headed prat. And I forget to spell-check too.

I am no better in real life. Saturday night I rented "Kingdom of Heaven" and treated myself to Orlando Bloom in leather tights while eating a plate full of fattening pasta.

Sounded like a relaxing plan when I thought it up.

Turns out? Not so much.

I ended up screaming at the screen about the historical innacuracies of the film until my face turned pink. (No! Really! He was married, faithfully, to her STEPMOTHER! And Italian! And LEGITIMATE!).

My only defense is that I have, regrettably, lost my mind.

(And between you and me, I don't think it's coming back anytime soon.)

My only comfort is that I don't think anyone is watching.

*sigh*

Sincerely,
Elizabeth, Corporate Mommy

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:29 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 246 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Well, I noticed. I just didn't want to say anything. So long as you got our comments.

Posted by: RP at February 07, 2006 05:15 AM (LlPKh)

2 Come on over and I'll share the HUGE plate of fudge I made last night. It has nothing good in it, just fat and sugar, and more sugar. Then we can watch LOST and yell at the people to grow some hair! Lose some weight! Look like you're on a damn island!!!

Posted by: Tammy at February 07, 2006 05:37 AM (M++hX)

3 Me, I yell at my all-time favorite show, CSI (all 3 of 'em.) I mean, if they can get a positive ID of a killer out of the reflection in someone's eyes taken from a stoplight camera - why oh why was my job in printing and prepress so difficult? Where is this software that produces infinite resolution?! I digress. I'm fortunate that in my own leap into financial ruin...er...career change, that I have studying to do. Which also makes me crazy, but I'm digressing again.

Posted by: bev at February 07, 2006 05:42 AM (Tk9Rx)

4 The thing with posting and then deleting is sometimes people who use news readers still see them, and feel your pain. Hope that once the transition is made your life will be much simpler and much happier. Hope the cupcakes turned out well.

Posted by: cursingmama at February 07, 2006 06:34 AM (PoQfr)

5 Hey Elizabeth. No words of wisdom here, just a pat on the shoulder. I hope it gets better soon. And don't feel bad about screaming at the tv, sounds like you were justified.

Posted by: Kris at February 07, 2006 07:24 AM (Za+sD)

6 Am a reader feeder addict. Some of us are watching. The good news? Most of us have been there, too. Hang in, Elizabeth. Spring - and all the rebirth it implies - is just 'round the corner.

Posted by: Jennifer at February 07, 2006 07:41 AM (jl9h0)

7 Sounds like you need a different Orly Bloom movie. Pirates of the Caribbean? any of the Lord of the Rings? And chocolate is much more comforting than pasta Hugs!

Posted by: caltechgirl at February 07, 2006 08:22 AM (/vgMZ)

8 I have no words of widsom at all. I am completely in the dark when it comes to the posts you've written and deleted too as I don't have time to get online much these days and when I do by the time I get all of the blogs I want to read opened my husband has taken the laptop and turned it off. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here and that your last post on one of my entries made me cry and I've been a total ass for not responding yet. I can blame the baby but really it's sleep deprivation. I feel the same way as you do as far as how posts come out. When I read them it all looks like crap and I comtemplate just not renewing my domain name when it comes up for renewal. Sorry I've gone off on a tangent on your blog. Talk about bad blog manners! *hug*

Posted by: Michele at February 07, 2006 10:59 AM (iTYOZ)

9 Hugs. Yes, spring is around the corner.

Posted by: laura at February 07, 2006 02:56 PM (FzMzF)

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