...that would have him for a member....

I, like Beck on one most amazing album, Mellow Gold, ditch myself and get outside....

He acted strangely this morning. Accusingly. Like he was trying to manipulate my attention away from some sore thumb. I slammed the door on him rather than re-apologize for yesterday. Shrugged off feeling a little bullied. On to more important matters: serving up Cookie Crisp or Cookie Friss, if you're Dallas, getting to the bus, doing laundry, etc.

A bottle of whiskey by his desk looked like ET hiding in the stuffed animals while I tapped my toe waiting for the dryer to fluff Monday's load. I stopped tapping. I had to touch it to make sure I was awake. Crap.

Sister said replace it with apple juice or worsty. I said I'd call a friend anyway for her opinion. Friend said leave it and asked if I was ready to talk to him about it. I said I felt it best if I didn't (most of my head chanted give him hell but a tiny confident voice said don't). "Let it go," friend suggested. Tiny voice concurred. I would let it go, much to my libido's surprise (Libido had already planned a reception with 300 guests and fancy name tags and swing band and- ). Friend said things would work themselves out. I was sticking with her no matter how much it hurt.

The tiny voice disappeared. The anger, disappointment, confusion, impatience, sadness, headache, hopelessness, and feeling of gushing blood lingered like Jack Tripper.

Pulled up to playground, windows down, jamming Boys Don't Cry and wondering what, if anything, my boys thought about the song. Hot dad with baby daughter stayed to investigate my two running from the car towards fun. I moseyed to the pine trees, noticed cones in the lawn mower's path were gone, and collected with the help of three, not two, kids plenty of newly fallen ones under the jaggedness or iggy, if you're Dallas.

Another young but not hot dad brought his little boy who stared at me the whole time. I'm cute, the wind was styling my long hair, my shirt was pink, my jeans were tight (with stretch, of course), I was swinging, playing, and blowing bubbles. I probably looked like a big kid with curves.

A couple raindrops scared everyone off and me to the beach before a serious storm maybe hit. No sex with two guys at once then, I guess (yeah, right). Big dark water, wind, wet sand still from Monday's rain, Canadian geese, garbage, driftwood, dry rocks, gray sky, two little critters, and I were one.

Let it go, friend said. Rock by rock I let it go. This time into midnight blue/black waves. This time over the breakwall so I couldn't see them back into the water. This time crashed off the breakwall. This time batted off a worthy driftwood or striking me out. Damn. No one watching anyway. This time while singing Boys Don't Cry. This time conjured up fighting words were met by an inner peace.

Came home ready to cry. Had ditched myself. Had let it go. He called. Said sorry and that he had to talk to me about something later.