Cranky..

I am so not ready to go.

There is a picture of me sitting on my nightstand. I am not even sure where it came from. I am about 4, Q’s almost age. I was not a pretty child, just as I am not a pretty adult. But I was young and tender and new, not yet ravaged by time and experience and disappointment and fear. I don’t want to be that child again but I want her time. I want to be with my new children and absorb them and know and feel every thought and event they experience. I don’t ever want to leave them. I hope they never leave me.

I made an impossibly good pasta tonight in our makeshift kitchen. Took forever for the pasta water to boil but eventually, like everything else about time, it did. Sweet red peppers, onions, garlic, mushrooms, black olives, fresh parmesan..All that was missing was garlic bread and red wine. We have red wine. I have no idea why we didn’t open some. We drank water instead in the new thick greenish glasses like the little boys. Cam spit out the black olives and then fed any remaining ones to me. He curled up on my lap then and demanded I sing "hush little baby". Both boys love that song. I must have sang it to the older ones as well but I don’t remember.

Date night we went to a dive bar and drank lemony 312’s and nibbled bad fried appetizers. It was good, homey, filled with folks our age and older. Not young brash flashy-dressed professional out-goers. A man brought his 2 daughters, slim little blondes about Q and Cam’s age. His wife was waitressing. We both liked seeing the kids there. Made it more pub-ish and less bar-ish. We had some good honest talk and remembered some sweet other days.  We then went out and bought a new coffee maker for the new kitchen and this morning had our first coffee upstairs again since the demolition in December.

Frank spent 2 days re-plumbing the kitchen sink. The new faucet is a small work of modern art and useful too. Beautiful with the under mount sink. But there is a problem with the drain somewhere mysterious behind the wall and under the floorboards..over the washer and dryer downstairs. A plumber will have to be called in. More molar-grinding problems and delays. I am heartily sick of remodeling. I am getting cranky and mean with it, even if I don’t mean to be.

There is a strong wind gusting about and the mournful horn of a train somewhere across town. I like it. I feel less alone in the night.

Doc appointment tomorrow. Aldolase levels were normal for the repeat. Wonders of modern lab error.

I finished The Art of Fielding. Strange good book.