Unpopular opinions Saturday, go!

I mean, it's your choice. Personally, I don't like being reminded that people are going to make assumptions about me and then not talk to me about it. I know people will do it. Hell... people are going to make assumptions and then talk to everyone else before they talk to me about it. The truth is, I likely make people so uncomfortable that they don't ~want~ to come to me and ask me questions, like friends do.

... but I am just saying, friends ask each other questions, and friends talk to each other. You shouldn't need a stupid meme to find out what people are saying behind your back.

People gossip. Those people are not being friends. Friends talk to you. If you want to find out what friends think of you, ask.

So if you want to know what I think, ask me.

♪ ♫ Step out the front door like a ghost
into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of white on white.

And in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.

I walk in the air between the rain
through myself and back again

Where?

I don't know ♪ ♫

Everyone will soon be going to AC and be putting in their best and putting on a show and having the time of their lives and that's great. It really is. Please make memories to last a lifetime.

AC is too large for me. I made memories to last a lifetime at Furthemore 2014, it was plenty fine for me. I'll talk about that in a different entry.

What I was thinking about just a bit ago was galavanting about. How much fun it is to do when you feel like you can do so freely. Look at the videos of every fursuit parade. Look how the people in them seem like they are free-spirited and happy.

Free...

The cons sometimes remind me of the high school prom, you know. So much fuss. So much decoration and preparation. Everyone trying to look their best and be the best and be with the best boy and oh, you must have a date. You do, don't you?

No, I didn't. Josh had just broken up with me, telling me he was gay, but wearing Nicole on his arm instead. She was leaner and meaner than me and had a job at Taco Bell. Huh. Funny about that. Actually, pretty much anyone would have been leaner than me at that point. The last year of high school was pretty much the biggest I had ever been in my whole life. I weighed well over 320 pounds, but not sure exactly how much, because I'd stopped weighing myself. I didn't even want to see the number any more. I bought stretch pants and men's multiple-xl tees because I didn't want to know what size I was, really.

But, you know, that's actually not what this journal is about, either. I ended up getting a date: the little brother of a kind, well-meaning classmate. I'll remember both of them forever. She was Julia and he was Michael. I wanted to be the prettiest I could even though I was so large. I asked him what his favorite color was. He said blue. So I wore a blue dress to prom.

What this journal is about is that preparation. Preparing so that I could be free like all the rest of the beautiful people. Putting on a façade so I could blend in a bit better.

I wanted to be as pretty as possible. I owed the poor dude that much.

You know what that means, right?

...

Facial hair removal lotion. This was my virgin journey with it.

I read the instructions on the tiny tube. "For coarse or hard-to-remove hair, leave on up to 5 extra minutes. DO NOT EXCEED 15 MINUTES!" Hmmm... It can't be that bad... I thought. So I turned on the radio. Alanis Morisette was playing: "One Hand in My Pocket".

It kind of smelled like a mixture of sulfurous eggs and baby oil that turned my stomach, but I held on for 15 minutes. I thought so, anyway. Was it 15? Maybe it had only been 10. Better to wait longer. Don't want ANY left behind. Four more songs played. I doodled in my notebook. Dragons and unicorns and hearts with a pink pen.

Oh gods... It... It burns.

And suddenly my chin and neck and upper lip were all on fire, and I knew I had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

I jumped in the shower and tried to rinse it off, pursing my lips so it didn't go in my mouth. The burning intensified. The thick, smeared-on lotion wasn't coming off!

In a panic, I grabbed the nearest washrag and, against the package directions, I started to scrub it off. This hurt. A lot.

By that point, I'm blubbering and crying. The water and tears touching my skin only burned it more. Now desperate to wash off the stinging, I grabbed the bar of soap in the corner of the shower. I lathered it up on a new washrag.

It worked.

It still burned, but not like it was. What a relief. I washed my hair and got out of the shower and toweled off.

"Mary Hope!! What the fuck are you doing in there? I gotta go!" said Tony. (Of course!) He was not used to my taking quite this long for a shower.

"I'm almost dooooo-ooone!" I sang back, and then stopped cold as I saw myself in the mirror.

Red. It was bright red where the facial hair used to be.

Oh. No.

My heart. It stopped and broke. It scattered into tiny pieces inside me. I sank onto the toilet, tentatively touching my sore face. Embarrassed, I screamed silently for a few seconds, through my nose, like I used to so I wouldn't get into trouble with my other stepdad.

What could I do? I couldn't go like this. It would be more noticeable than if I had just gone sparsely bearded in the first place. The prom was tomorrow night. There was no way...

And then Tony... Right outside the door. He would take any opportunity to tease. I thought quickly. I told him I'd forgotten my top and there's not a big towel so don't look. I ran to my room with my robe and toweled head and a hand towel on my face. I collapsed on my bed with a fan on my face and just cried and cried. The dogs scratched at the door. I told them to go away and locked it.

I must have slept through dinner. I woke up when it was dark, my hair tangled in the towel still. I touched my face. It still hurt a little, but it was smooth there. I couldn't believe there was no hair there. After all those years just looking at other girls that didn't have to worry about people looking at their faces like they looked at mine... I thought that I might go through that once a week, if I could have my face smooth like this. I got up and looked in the mirror and, to my relief, the redness was fading already. It was all going to be okay!

A few weeks later, it actually grew in even worse, and I started to obsess over it, shaving it up to three times in a day if I thought someone could see it, in spite of knowing it must be a common "problem" if there is a product (or dozen or hundred) on the market for it!

Raise your hand if you're terrified to be in a any accident or hospitalized overnight without your razor for the same reason! I honestly think about it!

Now I am braver. I am okay with admitting it. There are other things that I'm not ready to admit that I also think make me less-than-palpable for what is publicly acceptable for being female, but, for now, admitting this embarrassing one is a pretty big one. I... obsess about this facial hair. There is only one person that I feel comfortable touching my face and neck because of it.

Any of you that know me very closely know that I've struggled with off-the-charts levels of hormones since puberty. That's when the teasing started. I got everything. I got crazy cramps and a bouncy bosom, but I also got a slightly lowered voice, a bit of a sex drive... and facial hair... just like my mother. ... and I got teased about it until I wanted to delete myself.

I was born female. I have two X chromosomes and a vagina and ovaries and a uterus and everything. (Trust me, they remind me every month!) I don't think my body is male. I don't particularly want to be a male. I don't really care if someone calls me one, though. I'm not between genders. I'm not confused (often). I'm not genderqueer or transgender. My mother wished I were a boy, and that's where I get my ideas that it's possibly better to be one, but that's it. I hate the word 'cisgendered' because the way it's been used toward me and people I care about, but it applies to me, I suppose.

But this struggle I had before prom... it will always remind me of some of the problems that some of my friends that DO have gender identity issues face. (No pun intended.)

Every girl, every PERSON, goes through these or other puberty issues. Some of us have to go through puberty over and over and over again. Painfully.

My point is I wish I could have taught myself how to live a healthier life. I wish I could have taught myself a better self-image, sooner. I am grateful for my better self-image, now, but we need to teach these young people where greatness comes from. They're not getting it. They don't understand: the bullies nor the bullied.

I got so much more beautiful when I decided I wanted to be HEALTHY first. I wish I could have gotten THAT from peer pressure...

It was my birthday. He took me out for dinner. I remember it well; I was full of laughter and he took me to one of my favorite places to get snow crab legs. It was Fifer's. I remember I was so so proud of him because he didn't get a beer.

Then he got one. (But just one.) We stopped at a hardware store on the way back home. I looked in the backseat. It was a case of Loose Cannon.

I looked up at him from over the shiny top of the new car with pleading eyes. "Why?" is all I could get out.
"Oh for the love of... it's only a few drinks. Fine. If you really don't want me to, I won't have any. Whatever. I mean, what the hell... I only ask for this one thing and is it really that much of a problem?"
"That's a case..." I hissed. It wouldn't be a few, either. It would be many. I was going to be ignored again. And on my birthday. It was the third year in a row he'd ruined my birthday because of booze and I was pissed. I put on a thoughtful face, and interrupted his justifications and explanations with a surprisingly pleasant face. "Actually... you can have some you-time," I said sweetly, "Irime said she had some presents for me. I think I will give her a visit and hang out for a while." I did this many times this month. In fact, at the beginning of the month I was dodging Patti and him and sleeping in the shed. The shed was stuffy, dusty, and itchy, but had electrical outlets and it was in range of the internet in the house, so when I wasn't sleeping in my car, I was sleeping in the woodshed, if I slept at all. Two weeks later it was my birthday, and he had convinced me to try staying with him again, he would stop, he promised. And he didn't drink a drop for a week. We even nearly slept together like lovers, but we were tired. He actually hugged me, though, and petted my legs.

Then the case sat in that backseat and here he was, telling me to get over myself, that he just asks for this one thing... no. I needed to get out.
♪ ♫Sometimes I need some time...on my own
Sometimes I need some time...all alone
Everybody needs some time... on their own
Don't you know you need some time...all alone ♪ ♫

I told him I was leaving, but he was drunk. He wouldn't remember until morning. He would wonder where I was. And he did.

He texted me and called me. About half the times he called me, he was drunk. Some of the times he called I did not answer, because I was looking for a long stretch of road that I could get to 110mph and end everything as succinctly as possible and cause the least property damage. You would be surprised how hard that is to find. I didn't tell him. I didn't tell the therapist.

We tried to patch things up over Christmas. We didn't tell his family we were not living together. Chris didn't tell anyone why he didn't drink the whole time he was there. I was impressed. We stayed at a fancy hotel for holiday things and his family played materialistic holiday games. It was uncomfortable. I fell asleep several times during festivities because I hadn't been sleeping much at all. I didn't realize it at the time, but the blame was literally killing me. I could not spend the night with him at the house. The talking with him in Delaware was enough hurt.

I leaked my belongings over to my safe house. I simply have too many friends that love me to get away with sleeping in my car for more than three weeks. (I had it worked out rather cleverly, though: I had my clothes and toiletries and meds in my runaway bag and did laundry when no one was in the house, snuck in the back. Took showers at the gym, sometimes at the house when no one was looking.) I thought I was clever. I didn't even need to tell his dad about his drinking problem.

But he found out...

♪ ♫ 'Cause nothin' lasts forever, even cold November rain... ♪ ♫

On Superbowl weekend we tried to patch things up again. We had worked hard to move things into the basement to see if we could try living together again. Chris was supposed to be taking care of his ailing grandfather. I was helping because I have patience with him (and most elderly people, really), but I had work on Sunday... the day of the game. I came back to a sickeningly familiar sight. A case of beer drained, two 40s of miller, and, when he had bested those, a half-empty bottle of some clear acrid thing with a deer on the front... all of those emptied into Chris over a 4-hour shift.

I remember every word of our conversation, mostly because I did not speak. I broke. He had enough chances. I have been literally set on fire. I have been sliced. I have dug glass out of my hands and feet. I have recorded him so he would believe he was name-calling me and telling me "fuck you" and "go to hell, bitch". Enough with his being so sweet and perfect when he's sober. I can't do this any more.

"Git fug o'er here." His eyes were heavy-lidded and slow and dead of intellect.
I didn't answer. He was hardly saying a full thought. I packed up my computer and overnight bag; I hadn't brought much with me.
He rolled his eyes, "I mean, how was your day, then?"
I could only nod. I went upstairs to check on Pop and to ask how long the family was staying. They smiled and said they all had to go to work tomorrow, so Chris was taking over from here. Something clicked in me. No more fixing his mistakes. No more pretending everything is fine. No more cleaning up after him. Enough.
"Oh, I see. Well, I have a night shift coming up," I lied. "So Pop has his mobile if he needs to call him, right? That bell is hard to hear from down there."
They cheerfully acknowledged and went back to the game, conversing with Pop. I gave Pop a kiss on the head. I think he knew as well as I did it might be the last time, even in his dementia.

I went back downstairs to check to make sure I had everything before leaving. Aunt Diana's dog, Charlie, followed me. He whined and wagged his thick, yellow tail. I patted his head.
"Fuckin' dog listens better to me than my wife," Chris mumbled. I looked at him in a silent, mostly absent stare.
"C'mere, Charlie. Git up here, pubby!" he called. Charlie looked at me, turned his thick lab body around in the stairwell, and went up the stairs.

Good dog.

I silently picked up my socks while he cursed. He must have figured out I was going. He also insinuated I had told the family he was drinking. He grabbed my arm to stop me when I wouldn't answer him, and I suppose that I instigated that by not speaking to him. After a brief moment of disbelief, I snatched my arm away, and left without a word, hefting my bags onto my shoulders.

I caught a glimpse of Pop as I left the house, and, in that moment, I saw me sitting in that chair, instead. Dying. Suffering from all the things I have going wrong. Totally left to the wind if it was Chris's alone-time.

No. This is my life he's messing with, and I will be damned if I am going to let me die on a breathing machine because it's 'his Saturday'. Hell no.

And so I changed my address. Chris was the last reason I had to stay, and I can't let my life be in the balance because of his illness. He doesn't even admit he has one. This is my problem. The divorce is my fault. I am giving up on the marriage.

So be it.

On Tuesday, I worked until 5pm. It was the longest six hours of my life. My insides quivered and jumped every time there was a lull in the customers. Terrana flew here to see me. It was some 3,600 miles and over fourteen hours of travel and thousands of dollars... just to see me. (Really really.) That's never actually happened before. If someone's come to visit me, even family, it has been because I was 'convenient' or 'on the way' or because I was near someone else. I am not really used to someone making that magnitude of sacrifice just for me, so, at first, I thought it wasn't really happening. Surely something would happen to make this not a thing that was truly happening to me. In fact, it wasn't until one day, a few weeks before her arrival, when she had misplaced her passport and was a bit upset about it that I realized... She needs a passport... she's really coming. And that's when my insides started jumping like I had drank countless pots of tea or coffee.

I stood around the airport in my ridiculously purple top hat. She can't miss me in this, I thought. (She didn't.) I was so excited that Chris laughed. I remember every moment, how it smelled and sounded and tasted. I thought I was going to be sick. I paced around the luggage claim area. Then I paced around the receiving area. I fiddled with the bouquet that I had gotten her. It was a cute little candy corn arrangement with happy daisies. The plastic around them quivered with me.
"Easy, hon, you're going to twist them in half!" Chris said, teasing. I imagined he was in high spirits, too, and I was so excited that I gave him 'too many' kisses. And hugged him too much. "Okay, okay! I get it; you're excited. Don't pass out before she even gets here!"

I think I am going to be sick, I thought. I watched the board announcing the flights by craning my neck around to the top level. 12 minutes. How long now? 11 minutes. How long now? 10 minutes. I wandered to the baggage claim. I helped an elderly lady claim her bags. Hyperventilation. How long now? OH GODS 8 minutes. Are you kidding me?! I tweeted relentlessly. I twirled and adjusted the ridiculously glittery feather on my ridiculously purple hat and paced. No one got in my way. It was not very crowded and besides, I probably looked crazy.

3 minutes.

"Mary. Breathe."
"Huh?"
"Chill. Out."
"Kay."

He sounded annoyed now. I looked at the flowers and smelled them. They weren't the best, actually. I twirled the little candy corn pick in the bouquet. I remembered a conversation I'd had with Terrana about candy corn not being a thing in the UK, really. I thought about making her s'mores, too, but she hates the chocolate over here. My mind wandered in and out of conversations and anxieties and realities. So before I knew it, her plane had landed, but it resulted in many more minutes of pacing while she went through customs. I am sure it was not an hour, but my galvanic skin response said otherwise. I tweeted relentlessly some more.

I looked up at Chris, who looked at me and shook his head, smirking. "You're so cute, sweetie," he said, then I felt a warm wave of excitement all over again, just as Chris raised his eyes and opened his mouth to inform me...

... I never let him finish. I saw her in the reflection of the whites of Chris's eyes and heard her take a breath before asking something, probably if I was looking for her or something. I heard neither of them. I squealed at a likely inappropriate volume, threw my arms around her (upsetting her luggage she was pulling behind her), breathed in her scent, and silently thanked every god. I handed her the bouquet, but she inspected it instead of taking it. "What's this?"

"It's for you!" I said, laughing. She's so cute. Chris smiled. When I asked him why, he said that he could appreciate that one of my friends was more practical about such things. I shook my head and held the flowers as I danced around them both.


I remember every moment of taking her back to the car. I skipped more circles around both of them. We couldn't even find the car. Like I cared if we ever found the car... Terrana hugs! Chris volunteered to get assistance finding the car since I was beside myself.

I know talking happened that night. Conversations. I couldn't stop looking at her and once in a while reminded myself that I could be making her uncomfortable (but I bet I wasn't). The order of events got jumbled in my head and I didn't know which way was up. We checked her in at the hotel first; it was a pretty nice room in the hotel just down the street from the house. We decided to take the flowers to the house instead of the hotel, since she hadn't much use for them and had no vase, besides. I wasn't trying to rush anything but I wanted to feed her and begin spoiling her immediately.

Which made the fact that someone had left the lid on the pot roast cracked all the more tragic. Oh, it was the worst pot roast I had ever made. It had sat too long in the crock pot, so soggy vegetables, and dried out, to boot. Terrible.

We all drowned it in our sauce of choice. Chris picked a steak sauce and alternated it with "what's-this-here" sauce (Worcestershire, for those who don't know) and I, of course, coated mine in a thick layer of Sriracha. Terrana had never had it before and wondered what it was like. She had a little lick of it. Chris grinned in a knowing, evil way. I warned her it was spicy, but she shrugged it off. "Not overly. It's alright."
I said, "Huh, okay then! Want some more?" She declined and went back to Worcestershire sauce, then began to cough.
"Oh, wait, that is actually quite problematic..."
Chris laughed. We got her some water. Chris recommended either milk or something starchy to help, like the potatoes.

Now we call Sriracha "problematic sauce".

After some tea and a brief introduction to Chris's dad, I drove her back to the hotel because she seemed so tired (I would be, too... it was late in GMT!). I wanted to stay with her so badly but I knew I should let her rest, and I was so wound up that I was likely to talk to her all night and all night! Besides, Chris had work in the morning and I would have to wake up and get him ready. I told Terrana to call or message me AS SOON as she wanted me over.

I did not sleep that night.

I was so excited about what we'd do the next day.

Sadly, the things that we wanted to do kept being sabotaged.

It started out alright, with a lunch trip to Wegmans on the way to Piney Run Park. I babbled to her about when Debbie and I took Jacel there, and how I wanted her to meet my sister (who is arguably the best sister on the planet) and somewhere between sushi and driving the rest of the way to Piney Run, I had given her many childhood stories about the park and the funeral home we passed and my sister's good nature. What I didn't tell Terrana is that my little crush on her still stood strong, and I kind of wanted Debbie to meet her the same way a sister brings her suitors to meet a big brother. I wanted some kind of acceptance from Debbie. I was not disappointed. In fact, Terrana and Debbie made each other laugh a good few times. We saw the nature center and the lake where I spent many summers. We went into the bird pen and I showed off handling the birds a bit. Pretty birds. Debbie offered to let us kayak, but Terrana politely declined. Then Debbie got hijacked, so I asked Terrana if she wanted to see the fluffiest dog ever.

"She's so fluffy, I'm gonna die," Debbie joked. I kept forgetting where the quote came from. "I can't believe you haven't seen that, yet, " Deb said.

So we woke up a naked, napping Kitten and played with Haus and Dumpling (Kitten got some clothes on). I was really glad that Terrana is a dog-person. That even got hijacked, though, because then my godmother, Buddy, called, wanting me to act as IT and media department. "Oh you're at Debbie's?! You're right down the street!"

So I fell for it and thought It'll be a quick thing, and I guess it can't hurt for Terrana to meet more of my family. It was already weird, however, because I hadn't seen Alicia (my god-niece) for such a long time. The house was boisterous and the task she wanted to have me do was not a simple one (I should have known). Though Buddy was very hospitable and accepting of my having Terrana by, it seemed to me that this constant whirlwind of change of plans was starting to wear on her and my guilt began to mound. I took on the project even though I was busy. I just couldn't tell her no.

I went home as soon as possible to make the very worst stroganoff I had ever made, but during it, a neighbor friend of mine texted me about her work clothes. I gave some terrible advice. She then... showed up at my door? What...?

Terrana looked peeved. I was a bit peeved. We were both exhausted and my guest was a bit on the loud side. Pop was sleeping and Terrana looked like she had enough. My friend convinced me to go clothes shopping with her for work because she needed a friend to go get socks with her. I was so upset about the whole situation that I forgot several steps in the making of this stroganoff and ruined it. I went upstairs to take some deep breaths. It threatened to turn into crying.

There she was. We locked eyes and she firmly told me she couldn't tolerate any more of the surprises and changes and it was stressful.

And that's when I lost it. It was all too much. People were texting me all day to bring Terrana by and would I pick this up for them and could I please do this and I just wanted to enjoy Terrana's company and spoil her like I'd wanted but how could I do that if I were just ticking her off and... I cried and whispered to her how sorry I was. I needed to learn no. She held me. I just told her over and over how sorry I was and I wanted to fix it. I wanted to tell her that every day wasn't like this, but then realized it really was. In my struggle to be a 'good friend', I had stretched myself too thin. People thought they could rely on me all the time and I just couldn't enjoy myself any more.

Terrana explained that she wasn't upset about the things I was trying to do for her. She was just as overwhelmed as I was. I wiped my eyes on my sleeves. Chris came up and looked at me crying and asked if I were alright. I told him I would be fine, just to entertain our guest for a bit. He had a beer in his hand and I flinched.

"Actually, Chris..." I sniffled.
He turned around, very concerned. "What's wrong?"
"I want to know if it's okay for me to stay with Terrana tonight." I immediately started begging and justifying myself, telling him I'd still wake up early and make him breakfast and, and, and...
"That's fine, hon."

I celebrated inside, I am sure of it, but all that came out was blubbering thank-yous. Since I had already promised to go shop for socks with my surprise guest, I decided I would pack a few things to take with me, I would drop Terrana off so she could get settled, and then do the quick shopping run (which was not quick), and then settle down next to Terrana and actually get to enjoy her company (at least until I had to wake up to make Chris breakfast). I tried to be gentle and did my best to control the diaphragm heaving caused by the ghosts of my crying spell. I was so sorry, I said.

I vowed to make sure I said no to anything else. This was my time with Terrana and everything else needed to stop.

I was glad I spent the night with her. I didn't sleep too much, but it was more than I usually do, lulled by the sound of her breathing. I wanted to reach out and pet her. Oh, if only it wouldn't wake her. It was a beautiful night, such a peaceful relief. I mulled over the day. She didn't come to see all these things and places... I realized all over again. She didn't come here to meet all these other people...

Here she is... I thought, looking over in the dark at her form rising and falling with her breaths. She came here to see me. I felt warm inside all over. My smile redirected the one tear I had left to slide by my ear instead.

She came here to see me.

Thursday was a bit better than the day before it, but I was still getting used to everything and waking up my senses. I woke up before my alarm even went off and turned it off only minutes before it might have woken Terrana. I say that I woke up, but I hadn't slept much. I was very excited, though I did notice that I did sleep much better when I did. (It's amazing how much better you sleep when you're not worrying constantly about the person sleeping next to you, and whether or not they will keep breathing through the night.) I kept trying to think if there was somewhere I should be taking her, but then I remembered that she was there to see me. I was still trying to get used to that... that no one was going to whisk her away... that we had no itinerary. The freedom was both exhilarating and daunting. I doubted it with every excited breath. I drove back to the house to make Chris breakfast and lunch. He was glumly putting on socks when I entered. We carried on our morning conversation like groggy snakes.
"I thought you wouldn't be here, so I put soup in there." He nodded at his beat up old lunch box, which had a lonely can of soup sticking out and an energy drink.
"I said I was."
"Well, I thought you wouldn't."
"Well, that's stupid," I huffed. I busied about the kitchen to make him some oatmeal with apples and brown sugar. He frowned. I couldn't really read him to see which part was exactly why. I removed my shoes to be less noisy on the floor.
He put his hands on mine and stopped me in my tracks on the way to the microwave and the coffee machine. "Go." He sighed, avoiding all eye contact with me. "Your friend won't be here long."
I scowled and pushed him away. I hated how he wouldn't say her name. Like she didn't have one. Like she was a thing and he was making some huge sacrifice by letting me have this thing I wanted, because I knew the price. I knew the price. It was an even trade: a thing I wanted for a thing he wanted. No. It's not the same thing. It's not love. He didn't understand. I looked him over. He doesn't understand, I kept thinking. I don't know if he even can. The problem is he thinks this is a choice. He thinks this is a choice to the exclusion of him, and it made me wonder if he even ever understood me at all, all these times I've ever talked to him about love and what it meant to me. How important love is to me. How important people I love are to me, always. Was he even listening? Was he even there any more? I swirled the cream in his coffee, and I wondered if he remembered any of that, or if he drowned it in Loose Cannon like he had everything else that'd stressed him.
"She is asleep," is all I ended up saying to him.
"Well, thank you for breakfast and lunch."
"Sorry I was too late for notes. I'll text you for lunch if I'm not driving."
"Thanks."
Even the car starting sounded like an annoyed sigh. Suddenly, it shut off. I was putting a dish in the dishwasher when Chris came back.
"What are you doing today?"
"I... don't know, actually."
"We should go down to Annapolis today. I mean, after work. If you want."
I blinked. "I'd like that. I'm sure she would, too."
I thought about that complete 180º all the way back under the covers with Terrana. I didn't want to wake her. I was still about 6 am. I wanted to hold her and thank her for coming all this way and thinking of me and I wanted to squeal and shout.
... but I was quiet, and I just trembled happily beside her as I watched the sun peek through the crack in the blackout curtains and heard the housekeepers and the other guests stir about for breakfast. I just listened to her breathing and reminded myself that she was actually here. She was here to see me and we could do whatever we wanted to do. If we wanted, we could go back to the house after everyone had gone and play video games.
In fact, that's what I suggested.
It didn't go as well as I'd hoped.
We tried to play Ōkami, but Patty, the cleaning lady, was in the house, watching my every move like always. She was wondering why I wasn't at work. She was wondering why I hadn't started school and why I had a friend over that she didn't know about and she was curious. She was always curious. She always saw the extra bottle mess that I always cleaned up from Chris and I think she was telling Chris's stepmother that I was cleaning it up for him. She watched my every move. She hated me... I just knew it. I couldn't stand it. I knew Terrana could feel it. It was a feeling that even playing a beautiful game like Ōkami wasn't able to cover up...
Chris came home from work early. He was cheerful and I was glad. We then went on an adventure from Giant to Petco to downtown Annapolis. Terrana was very quiet, other than the occasional question about a road sign or a silly American product. She seemed uncomfortable for some reason, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was warm, so we ducked in to a few stores on our way down to the end of the piers (though Terrana didn't seem to have a problem with the heat at all and was actually wearing heavier clothing than I was at the time). In one of the stores, they were making a huge slab of fudge. In another, I pointed and laughed at some of the lewd jokes in the greeting cards. I kept looking to Terrana. She scanned the area in front of her, but didn't meet my eyes often. Chris kept talking about things around us nonstop. Was he... yes... I think he was: he was starting to show off! I know exactly what it was that triggered the showing off, too - it was a phrase: German Chocolate. And it started Chris in on explaining his heritage and how German he was. I must have turned a much redder shade of my normal color. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and looked at Terrana. Oh dear gods.
Oh Chris.
Oh Chris, please shut up.
You're embarrassing m- oh... shut up.
I manually unknit my brows with both hands and rubbed my temples, praying that Terrana didn't make her tongue bleed by how she must have been biting it then. I made a mental note to reiterate later to Terrana how people in the states are obsessed with being anything but American. I'm not immune; I've done it, too, but I'm so mixed I've got no claim to anything really, so I am just along for the ride. Chris is very proud of being "very German" and especially of being "Irish somewhere". It'd be really cute if it weren't insane.
No. Chris was born in Baltimore. I was born in Westminster. Both of us were born right here in Maryland, but in worlds about as far apart as they could have been. Chris's was far more privileged than mine would ever be, and mine was far more experienced than his would ever be, and yet, there we were, in a specialty tea shop in the capital of the state where we were both born, enjoying each others' company with a friend that came across an ocean to enjoy my company and these silly antics. When I looked at her this time, she shined a little.
There is a civil war museum in Annapolis. It was free and open, so we went in, and in the middle of explaining the secret messages on the quilts and the underground railroad, Chris's father called. He wanted me to come back and stay with Pop at the house.
Let me explain that the entire time that Pop was in the hospital, no one called us to tell us that they wanted us to visit. They texted the entire family his every bowel movement (probably against Pop's will), but we were not to visit, no they did not need anything, and everything was fine. In fact, we weren't even told what was going on and didn't even know when he was going in or out of the hospital to let his friends know. So I was a little insulted that now... now of all times, this very precious time, that he called me when he didn't even see fit to even inform me of what was going on before. I was insulted and disgusted. I threw a fit for a few minutes before I called him back and told him that I had responsibilities already, and I could rearrange them if absolutely necessary... and he stopped me and said he could take care of it.
My heart beat for two minutes inside of one and I leaned against the wall, looking up into the faceless, melanoid mannequin wearing all the petticoats and sighed at her. We were hungry. We decided to wander about the Whole Foods, because being inside a grocery store is a great idea to do when you're hungry. I wanted to take her in it because it was, to me, large and impressive and stereotypically fancy and American. It wasn't the best idea ever, actually. We were going to have a crackers and cheese party of some kind. That didn't happen either. It just wasn't the best idea ever.
I just wanted to hug her because, in that moment, I realized all over again that she understands me better than she thinks she does. That's all I want to say about it, actually.
There was more that day. We had dinner at Chevy's and enjoyed it immensely and even enjoyed walking around the mall and the Best Buy and Terrana's humor. Chris and Terrana got along rather well, and he especially liked her saying, "There's a proverb for this," at the outlandish audio equipment, "I don't know what it is, but there is one." We enjoyed the rest of the night far more than the afternoon, in fact, but the highlight for me that day was the spark that reignited the rest of the fires that were smoldering for a long time in the back of my mind. She understands me. She really does.

Fast forward to waking up late. Chris had planned his own breakfast for work, so I had no need to wake early, like the other mornings. I opened my eyes, unusually thick with sleep. A... dark room and a white wall came into focus much too close to my face than I was used to and there was furniture I didn't recognize. I drew in an excited breath. Was she really...? I rolled over and hugged my elbows tight to me, but I felt her there before I opened my eyes. I didn't need to hope for anything... there was Terrana, still there where I'd left her when I went to sleep the night before.
I smiled and yawned, my dry throat demanding a drink and my numb limbs asking the morning medication to go with it.
By the time I took care of things and got dressed, Terrana was stirring. She slept hard. At least, she slept harder than I did. I remember exactly what I wore that day: I wore my Nyan Cat shirt and the light-colored jeans. I remember particularly because I had a hard time getting the matching Nyan cat seat belt buckle through the double belt loops, so was grunting and huffing when she turned around, rubbing her eyes and croaking out, "Hiiiiii."
My seat belt latch clicked. "Morning!"

We had some wonderful tea and breakfast, then headed over to the house to make chocolate-caramel-pecan pretzel treats and a rainbow cake. It was going to be great. I unwrapped the Rolo candies and placed them on the square pretzels, preheated the oven, and heard stirring from upstairs. I had planned on this being a low-key, stay-in-the-house-and-watch-movies-and-make-food day, since Chris had work most of the day and wanted to do things with us when he got home, so when I heard something upstairs, I was a bit concerned, then peeked outside. Oh: his car was parked outside. He must have called out or not had work. Well, maybe he could help us make...

... but when he spoke, I could tell the difference in his voice. He had called out. He had been planning on drinking all night and into the morning. I could see the laziness in his eyes. I hastily finished up the treats and packed them away in bags. I didn't want him with us. I told him to go ahead and get dressed if he wanted to go, knowing full well what he would choose.

I was right. Good. I only felt a little guilty for knowing ahead of time what his choice was going to be. Because I knew that meant, whatever it was worth, that I would rather spend time with Terrana than with whatever was flowing out of that bottle.... wait a minute... no, that's fine, actually. So, with my new resolve, and a bag of very high-calorie treats, we left in the car to drop them off at Ari and Ticky's house. I promised Terrana this would be the last fool's errand or favor I would make. I think it was. I did no one any more favors. I didn't even answer my phone or texts for the rest of the day. I had enough and so did she. The rest of the trip would be for us, dammit.

So it was. I took her to some of the more amazing places that I knew about. I didn't want a certain someone to follow us, even if he changed his mind, but tried not to make a big deal of it. I didn't want to ruin things, and I still felt like I had to cover for him, you know? Who wants to deal with that? I took her to Towson Town Center, which was a very large mall that I mostly know for the strange hybrid sculptures in the middle of it as a help for people to remember where they parked. There was a butterfly squirrel and a lion snail. While we were there, we had a nice lunch. P.F. Chang's is one of my favorites. I got my insanely spicy chicken noodle soup and Terrana got one of the lunch specials and some water. While we waited for food, we giggled like children and watched each other do "science" with the liquid in our straws and even took pictures of it. Why? I don't know. Science is enough of a reason for about anything fun.

About the most important thing that I felt growing inside me that day was the increasing need for me to take my desires more seriously. If I didn't act on what I wanted, it's possible no one would know. We did a lot of talking in the car and while walking about the mall and I think Terrana had a sort of pride for me for realizing it. It felt pretty good.

I made a note to do more of it... this 'taking care of me' thing that people have been telling me to do for over a decade and a half.

True to my plans, I looked up some places after breakfast this morning where we could do some kind of theme park or roller-coaster-type thing. Though it was certainly hot enough to do so, most of the water parks were closed, and had been since Labor Day. I mean, it was five days into October now, so no water parks were open, even as hot as it was. I was pretty sure that being all wet wasn't Terrana's thing, anyway, and thought back to the park. Yeah. Nah. Roller coasters, though. She said she'd like that. It's something I never expected to hear from her. After all, roller coasters are fast and ... loud. Very loud. Terrana seemed to have a low tolerance for things that were loud and crowded, much like I do. I do have to say I will quite gladly put that to the side for the chance to fly, though, so perhaps I should not have been as surprised.

I avoided looking up Hershey until last, because I remembered also that Hershey park would have a lot of focus on our very acidic American chocolate, of which Terrana wasn't very fond. I had explained then that we actually like our chocolate that way... that it's meant to be very acidic, and that we actually even add things like spicy peppers into it and even rock salt sometimes. Considering chocolate gets spicier and acidic the closer it gets to the source (Mexico and the Central Americas), and seemingly milder the farther away (like the very creamy versions I tasted that my Uncle brought back from London), I shouldn't have been surprised about her preference, there, either. I mused over these old conversations while she and I silently tapped at our computers. I kept coming up with nothing. Everything was open only during the weekend. That would be too crowded; not only were kids out of school, but all the other things to do that are free, like the museums and national parks, were (guess what!) SHUT DOWN during the shutdown. We'd not be able to move for all the people in these parks on the weekend. I even looked at Hershey. Weekend only. I looked at corn mazes and pumpkin farms. Weekend only. I must have looked crestfallen, because Terrana let out a small "Hi..." to cheer me.

You know what? I thought, it'll be okay. We should just go have some fun. So I considered what we could do and decided that maybe Chris had some ideas. I texted him and he didn't answer and got a bad feeling, but put on a smile anyway. "Want to go on an adventure?"
"Well, why not?"

Terrana stayed in the car while I ran up to see why he didn't answer. Long story short: he wasn't ready to go anywhere, and wouldn't be for a long time. I decided, right then, to spend most of the rest of the visit without him, unless he apologized. He seemed to be having a good time without me, anyway, and I didn't want Terrana to see him like that. Ever.

Back in the car, Terrana was listening to beautiful instrumental music. I whuffed out the sour smell from the attic bedroom still lingering in my nostrils and got into the car. I took a deep breath and listened to Terrana talk about music she liked while I programmed the GPS for Frederick, where I'd gone to college. I considered showing her the campus, but I wanted to take her to the shops and Carroll Creek I thought she'd like the art there. It was hot and would be a perfect day for ice cream nearby. The sun was really glaring and angry. I tried not to remember the scene in the bedroom I just had to survey, but all throughout the car ride it kept creeping up on me and making me angry, too. By the time that I parked the car near the post office in Frederick, I had thought on the state of that bedroom a dozen times. It seemed like Terrana knew I was upset by it, because each time she started to mention soothing things like games or music, things she still wanted to show me, things she liked. She was mostly quiet when we were walking though, so I babbled over things that I liked and little shops I loved to visit and decided I wanted to take her to see the Rare Earth store. It honestly just has a sign above the shop that just says ROCKS.

I wandered with her but never found it, despite using my GPS walking map. By that time we were hungry and, since we were on Market Street anyway, I decided we couldn't very well leave Frederick without going to Brewer's Alley. It was actually ridiculously crowded, though we got seated straight away. This is what we mostly did. The service seemed rather busy. I wasn't as impressed as I was most of the other times I was there. The spicy 3-pepper was wonderful, though. Service so very slow. I get cranky when my tea is empty, dammit. Though it did allow us lots and lots of time to talk. I was starting to like talking to her more and more every day. Sufficiently stuffed with meat and delicious things, we wandered some more, past funny things made of glass and soaps and a nice little herb shop, but I still couldn't find Rare Earth. It was a pity: I wanted to show her the dinosaur egg fossils. We ducked in shops along the way to escape into air conditioning. What a pair of opportunists!

We did sufficiently enough walking that, by the time we got to the Ben and Jerry's, it was time for ice cream. I ended up with a pumpkin cheesecake thing and Terrana had a hard time deciding between a few and the Charry Garcia. Of course, as soon as we stepped outside, the ice creams started running down our limbs, so we looked for a place to sit and finish them that wasn't taken. We shared bites, slurps really, and giggled like kids. By the time I finally found a place, under the bridge with all the art, we had sucked down most of it anyway (especially mine, which I had made a smaller one so I wouldn't feel sick later). So we sat, sticky and grateful for shade, on the edge of the canal and watched the ducks swim closer and the koi swim lazily underneath. I opened a bottle of bubbles from one of my many pockets. As if on cue, a breeze rushed gently under the bridge to push the bubbles away. Terrana blew some bubbles, too, and they landed on the surface of the water, where the ducks imagined they were some new and prismatic version of some tasty breadcrumb or something. It was a sight to see a proud drake come up to a bouncing bubble on the surface of the water in the canal and shake his head in confusion when it disappeared. Though I knew there were far more worse things in the water, and at higher concentrations, I made sure we stopped blowing bubbles so close to the water; I didn't want to make the fish ill.

Even in the shade, it was humid and hot. I showed Terrana the door painted on the wall across the canal and the duck painted on the painted stairs that everyone thinks is real. We even got to see the optical illusion 3D cherub before we had to retreat to the comforting coolness of an art show. I glanced around at the local artists' fare. It was mostly crafts, paintings, and photographs. The prices were very art-showy, but it was cool in there and there was a bathroom, and Terrana didn't look upset to have seen it. I was getting better at reading her, though, because I knew it was time to say,
"How about we head back and play video games for the rest of the night?"

I stopped in Mt. Airy in the afternoon for a case of water at the drug store. Terrana marveled over how bottled water was "actually useful" over here. Really I had stopped for Starbucks, but I also needed products of my own if I were planning on not going back to the house for the rest of the week. Terrana and I had another cultural exchange about how expensive things are in the UK. I guess things are cheaper when you have a lot of people making things without considering the consequence of running out of dead dinosaurs.

There are only so many dead dinosaurs.

I am not sure we even got to play many games at all, actually. I think I did my homework and we watched some internet videos and crashed, mumbling and purring in a pile in the air-conditioned room, not caring that sleeping next to each other was just making it hotter in the bed. When I heard her breathing lengthen, I knew she was sleeping and rolled away a little.

I think you are getting to used to this already, I thought. You shouldn't.

It was sure nice to hear her breathing behind me, though. It made me sleep real sleep.

This particular morning, breakfast was sausage gravy and biscuits, bacon, and tiny little cheese omelets. You know I made a sandwich out of them. In true American fashion, it lacked any real vegetables, but, hey, the whole place smelled great. We were actually up before most people in the hotel, our reflections the only ones in the shiny red apples in the bowl at the tall table, save for Miss Sadie (such a nice lady!). News gossiped over the tables, which we had turned to ignore; more about the shutdown made us grumble. Terrana was quick to say to me that news here "isn't particularly useful, is it?" I agreed, pointing out that Chris and I had grown accustomed to listening to BBC on the Internet radio, honestly. News here is basically geared toward being entertaining, panic-inducing, or otherwise sensationalist, not so much the informative like she's used to.

I sniffed my Earl Grey before I dunked it into its bath. Mmmm. Hearing a heavy sigh, I looked up at Terrana. Oh, she looked so very tired. I felt a twinge of guilt twist my insides a bit. Yesterday was too much; I'd run her too hard. I pet the sides of my cup and breathed a deep breath in. Today was the last day for the drive-in theatre, but it was Sunday. (I was still getting used to the idea of it being Sunday!) It would be crowded. Just look at her... you can't put her through any more of that. The crowds and loud noises and rowdiness... you know what...?

"It's Sunday..." I said. "Let's have a lazy day."
"That sounds delightful." Her eyes lit up and it was so beautiful... and I hoped she didn't see me blush.

I quickly talked about video games. We talked about video games a lot. In fact, we played video games all day. I learned how to play Reus, a world-building game that kind of reminded me of Civilizations or Black and White or something, only it's really its own thing. I haven't played it since Terrana was here, but I played it for a good few hours when she was, enough that I forgot what she was playing while I was playing that one, embarrassingly enough! We made noises about maybe I would like Minecraft. I told her that Chris and Irime and even Mandi told me I would like Minecraft. I should try it sometime, I thought. She tried to load it up on her laptop but I think something wasn't working at the time, but that was fine. I took a break to get a homework assignment done, and then we looked outside.

What the hell?

It was getting dark!

I can't help myself when you're around...

We decreed it should be pizza and movie night. We made it so. While normally one might go and be social and go on a date to get pizza and then go to a theater, we are self-respecting antisocial gamers. This ind of galavanting would not do. So!: to a mostly-deserted-for-Glen-Burnie 24-hour Walmart to purchase a copy of Despicable Me! I also bought The Last Unicorn DVD, because the author was in town, and Irime and Kit said that they might get a chance to get it signed for me when they go work at the movie showing where he was.
To a Pizza Hut for a stuffed crust pizza with the best toppings of everything and the dipping sauce that makes you breathe the garlic dragon breath! I needed a drink at that point. It was wretched tea though. Blech. Terrana tried it. Yuck. I apologized on its behalf.
That'd been enough social interaction for us -- quickly back for snuggles and watching Despicable me for the first time! I could eat one slice of that stuffed crust stuff before feeling like a wedge of cheese myself, argh. Now I remember why I can't eat it any more. So good though! I tweeted things during the entire movie, now realizing where Debbie had gotten her "It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!" ringtone. I also tweeted "curse you, tiny toilet!" and nearly wet myself laughing at that. I actually don't know what made me laugh more: the movie, or Terrana laughing at me laughing at the movie. I think, possibly yes.

The movie was over and I folded the pizza box and put it on our tiny, makeshift 'kitchen' area. More tea happened. I was starting to get spoiled with Terrana making me tea like this. I was starting to appreciate our little milk setup, also.

And... I don't know how it happened. We were getting ready for bed. We both turned off our computers. It was time to go to sleep. Who started talking first? I do remember who it was. I remember what it was I said. we talked about the Things That Hurt and the Things That Helped. Something happened that night. I won't write every word here, but I remember the words. I remember them and I treasure them. I needed them. I think she did, too. We talked for hours and hours about our lives, about what we lived through, and about the Why of things. I looked into her eyes and I remember feeling understanding I never had with her before. I could have kissed her. I didn't.

You take me back to the start, where I dropped my guard.
I have to let you in... and tell you everything.

I told her everything.

I told her things I hadn't told my therapist yet. Some things I might never tell anyone else. It was something that I got to see that only happens once... like watching a star get born... or a rare flower bloom.

Actually that's what it felt like. I could feel it spreading from my chest like it was releasing slowly from being balled up tight for so so long.

Maybe it took all night, it took until the wee hours of the morning, and with the passing of many words and a lifetime of stories, but we bloomed that night. It was beautiful.

(I know I took a long time between these entries, but I had a very rough holiday. I won't go into all of the details, but I am a tough old dragon, and have been through much worse, and have much to celebrate and be thankful for besides. I am now well and safe and happy, and thank you all for your support while I wasn't. I will pick up where I left off.)

Monday we stretched long and slow. Sleeping felt so very good. The air conditioning kicked on. A garlicky zephyr curled around my cheeks and made me smile about last night. What a night: it's a good night when breakfast is forsaken for sleep (at least it is for me). I turned around to Terrana and snuggled against her back, gave her a snuffle. I heard her make a noise that sounded something between a grunt and a chuckle. I grinned to keep from nipping her.
"Morning!" I said, my voice still thick with dreams.
"Hi" she said back, in her sing-song way I was starting to love more and more. I hugged her and peeked at the clock over her shoulder.
"We have pizza for breakfast!" I announced.
"That's the best!"
And so we stirred about in lazy partial sunlight that we watched come in through the blinds. We gnawed at cheese-saturated pizza, not even minding that we'd missed the hotel breakfast downstairs. We were full of peaceful smiles and pizza, and that's a pretty great way to be. It was finally starting to cool down from the sweltering temperatures we experienced that weekend. I was relieved a bit. I opened the window and stuck my hand outside, peering at all of the cars packed into the MVA parking lot. I smirked. Pride feels awkward on me, but I let it stay for a little: not a month ago I had just walked off that drive course, gaping in disbelief at my license voucher in my hand.
I can drive now. I had breathed, then. We can go anywhere we want.
I tossed my hair out of the way so I could look at Terrana, who was mulling over something on her computer and relaxing. And I couldn't have found a better time. She felt me smiling at her.
"Hi!"
I smiled. I love that. I shut the asphalt breeze back outside where it belonged and rejoined the warm garlic and linens scent inside (which is more pleasant than it sounds, I assure you). I sprawled on the ottoman, horseback-style, same way I had last night, with my elbows propped on it, my chin resting on my palms. "Whatcha doin'?"

And so we watched a series of Vsauce documentaries about all kinds of things, like Why Do We Get Bored?, Why Are Things Creepy?, and, my personal favorite, Why Do We Kiss?. I made Terrana a paper crane out of a piece of paper I had left over from a bag I'd taken to a convention I had volunteered for earlier that year. It was an orange one. We ended up leaving the crane for the housekeeping - a little orange ambassador who flew from furniture to shoulder and back.

And there's no stopping us right now... I feel so close to you right now...

We could have watched silly videos all day, and talked and talked some more, but soon we were hungry again, and the pizza box was empty. We didn't want to wander far from the coziness, so we walked over to the Panera and grabbed some sandwiches. She giggled at the giant scones because I told her they were really just humoring her; we call them biscuits. And then cue the required culture jokes and giggles! I love to make her laugh so very much.

It was a beautifully lazy day. It was perfect and delicious. We held hands on the way back to the hotel. That made it even better.

The most perfect part for me, even more than the games and the smiles?

Cuddles.

It was Tuesday. Chris slipped into the driver's seat of the new Accent. Terrana and I sat in the back. I cupped my hand over hers and breathed in a deep breath. It still smelled very faintly of new vinyl and glass cleaner in the car. That smell won't be around very long... I thought. I briefly mused about 'new car' air fresheners, and whether or not I liked them. I decided I probably didn't. I squeezed her hand and enjoyed her smile before Chris started the car and chose his music. We were off to Ellicott City.

City is a quirky Maryland town. The walls have marbles and buttons and coins cemented into them, large natural rock formations, and lots of old buildings. The whole town smells a bit like an antique attic mixed with mossy streambed and mechanical grease, so basically like my grandfather's storage barn in Sykesville. The denizens are collectors or fanatics. They believe in ghosts and luck or collect odd trinkets and sell them in odder ways.

There is a bookstore there, Grandpa's Books, that is arranged similarly to the bookstore in The Neverending Story. (At least, the way I imagined it in the book, not as airy or spacious as the movie made it seem!) books full the shelves, but are also stacked on the floor in precarious ways. The bookstore owner keeps peculiar hours, but is open most days—he loves his books. In fact, the first time I ever visited, I was surprised he didn't ask to inspect my hands, but then remembered that I was an adult. (Damn.) I regret that we didn't actually go in with Terrana. I wanted to explore the narrow spaces made of near-ancient books with her.

Spend too much time in Ellicott City, though, and most people begin to feel uncomfortable. Chris does. I have nightmares, most times. It's just so damn interesting, though! I mean, there aren't many places that have bricks painted on the pavement. Actually, Terrana noticed that; I hadn't even been on that side of the street to notice. Of course, the first place I wanted to show her was Hackers, Ink: sellers of computer repair, comic books, card games, and... hot sauces going up to the millions of Scoville units. We managed to cross the street to it after a while of my oogling beads at a specialty bead and sculpture shop. Yummy beads and stones! (I did not eat any: that'd be stealing!) I am pretty sure Terrana wasn't as amused as I was with the Hackers, Ink shop, but I don't blame her; I get rather excited about strange things. I bought a scorpion pepper plant, though. Bonus.

Antique stores line both sides of Main Street. We stopped at a random, café-like Subway to grab a bite. That, and it was a bathroom break for me, of course. I memorized more moments and got lost staring out the window, avoiding the television as long as possible; it was only more news about the governmental tantrum shutdown. I cursed it with every internal voice I had. I wish I could have taken her to see some of DC and... Look! The city was getting to me fast this time. Already I was starting to be negative. Perk up, girl!

I tried to. We had a good few hours until the Hibachi dinner date and plenty of weird shops to visit. We wandered into antique shops that disappointingly showcased things younger than I was as retro and antique. I don't want to be old yet—I don't do anything well enough for that! But then SO MANY LEGO PRODUCTS happened in an antique mall, on the third floor. Some bricks and accessories were nearly my age. Some things in the antique malls were just too creepy to look at for too long. I did find some old keys, though, and I love keys. One thing I actually don't love about the antique malls is the scent. It's dust, decay, fake perfume to cover neglected items.

I skipped through a lot of the shops rather quickly; I wanted to show Terrana the strangest and most fantastic shop: He Forget-Me-Not Factory. It is my favorite store. It is a collection of everything fanciful and weird in one three-level shop of knick-knacks, costumes, crafts, and Pagan supplies. Some hallways are full of Halloween and some are full of Christmas. Some are full of gargoyles and biker gnomes. Yes. Wonderful and strange and random and disorganized ... frankly a lot like me.

Chris doesn't like going in to that store at all and we were all close to getting the creeps, so we decided that we should move on. Still, there was quite a bit of time until the dinner date at the hibachi, so, once we left, Chris pulled into the Columbia Mall parking lot just to do a search for a nice park we could laze about in (though he had more of a plan to walk about than laze). A few misses with the maps and we eventually found one called Centennial Park. It was new to us as well, but we will surely be going back. I really want to look over the edge of the bridge we saw in the distance over the small lake. The park had a jogging trail wrapped around the entire lake. People were walking along it at varying paces, giving way to the occasional bicycle, dog, or jogger. At the pier, the county fire and rescue team was practicing their water rescue. The trees were all starting to turn golden and wheat-colored in waves. The lake itself was unpopulated; it being after Labor Day, the lake was closed to all except water fowl and ripples cause by autumn breezes. Terrana preferred to hang out in the quite interesting, angled pavilions at the top of the hill. Our little group dissolved a bit. I meandered around the path after Chris had already taken off. I went to find a bathroom again and caught up with him. I was a little worried. He's usually quiet, but he was more quiet that day, too, and agitated after overexposure to the strange city before. He also disclosed to me, after I'd caught up with him, that he was really quite embarrassed that our government decided to have a tantrum right at that time - he'd wanted to show her some cool things, too. I squeezed his shoulders and told him he was sweet.

"Hey, look..." he said, reaching into the water to pull out a huge, oval clamshell. It was muddy and caked with algae on the outside, but reflecting pale rainbows on the inside. How appropriate, I thought, a treasure. We decided to treasure hunt the other way and see if we really could reach the bridge in the distance before it was time to go to dinner, especially because it was a lovely day and not too hot, and pleasantly breezy. We walked on twisting, turning paths past a bench, a lovers' nook of sorts, and reached the water's edge on the other side of the pavilions. I found a bright yellow leaf of Jurassic proportions and decided it would be added to the collection of Things To Show Terrana when we got back to the pavilions. Chris and I approached some reeds and some angry ducks tumbled out, scolding us. He smiled and threw a pebble in the water, which the hungry ducks chased, expecting crumbs.
"That was mean," I said, but laughed anyway.
"Not as mean as actually feeding them bread..." he said.
"I guess not..."

We walked a little farther and discovered a patch of open field next to the lake that a flock of geese had taken over. I wanted a closer look to try and take a picture to show Terrana. I didn't want her to miss a thing and I kind of felt like I was a kid again, taking collections from a trip to show to family. I squelched over to a piece of driftwood I was going to hide behind to get a nice, close shot of the Canadian geese grooming each others' feathers, when the log got up and waddled away.

I guess they call them wood ducks for a reason!

What a good laugh I got from that! I laughed and Chris smiled a bit all the way to the huge pavilion we discovered at the apex of the path. We never got to the bridge because we were so very impressed with this pavilion. I made a mental note of it; I wanted to share it with the local fandom people for a possible meet location in summer. It had everything: a large grill in the center, electricity, picnic bench seating, full bathrooms, stone and steel construction, cornhole, volleyball pits, horseshoes, a playground, really everything. We scaled the steep hill back up to the path and promised to come back later because it was time to be going.

Part of the flock of geese took flight as we returned. I followed them until they passed in front of a passenger jet ascending in the distance. I winced and looked away.
"You okay?" Chris asked.
"Yeah..." I lied, then smiled crookedly, showing the treasures to him again. He only shook his head, because I am so silly.

I flounced up with my treasures to show Terrana, "Look!" I said triumphantly, holding out the huge leaf.
"Oh! That's... kind of disgusting."
I looked it over. Was it? A breeze pushed the leaf down toward my hand and I dropped it, still inspecting it. Upon closer consideration, while impressive in size, it was kind of... rotted in the middle.

Oops.

I kept the seashell, though. It's pretty on the inside. It is also not rotten in the middle.

I was really glad it was time for hibachi because I was thirsty. I had gotten a coupon for the dinner and had never been to the place before, but I hoped it would be one of the good ones. I was a bit apprehensive when it looked like the place had been remodeled from an old bar, but was more impressed with their cute koi pond filled with goldfish. It was made into a wishing well and had coins in it. Concerned, I asked the hostess if the pennies bother the fish, but her English was a bit limited and she could only tell me that it was a wishing well and you can throw coins in and that it is lucky. Apparently the coins don't bother the fish. They looked rather large and healthy, anyway. I was starting to get a bit hyperactive, so I smoothed down my clothes in the front as a reminder to settle. The music came to me. It was a rather eclectic mix. We all listened to it for a while: Instrumental pop covers, something that sounded like it was trying to be dubstep, then a very Asian-sounding cover of a Celine Dion song.
"This is all over the place," Chris said. Terrana and I agreed. Though it wasn't terrible, just indecisive. I decided against meat in my food in favor of more vegetables. There was a shrimp appetizer, anyhow. I was a bit excited about the shrimps because I remember all the times I had gone hibachi with friends and didn't miss catching one in my mouth a single time. Skywise doesn't usually miss, either. I suppose that's inherent with being a dragon. Chris is very talented and even misses sometimes. I remembered the cut-slap motion they used to make the morsels fly that certain way and the clang that warned of the incoming food-jectile. It's just silly and fun to play with your food, so long as nothing's wasted much. I suppose I never quite grew out of that.

The grill already had that hot-oil scent. Our hibachi chef, like most that I had seen before, had better jokes than English vocabulary. He had all kinds of tricks, including the classic volcano/fire in the giant onion slices. He put it out with a cheeky squirt bottle shaped like a fireman... with his pants pulled down. That one I hadn't seen before. I also had never seen a hibachi grill chef squirt sake right in someone's mouth before. Chris refused at first, thinking it was hot sauce or something, but I told him it was sake because he couldn't understand the poor chef. A squirt right to the face later confirmed that it really was sake. I hope they check IDs. I also had never seen a chef do the fake-out bottle of sauce before. He had some kind of tiny long balloon on an empty sauce container and pretended to squirt Chris with it. The chef also picked on Terrana a fair bit. I giggled at all of his jokes so I think that's why he spared me from most of them. He kept giving Terrana a tiny bit of rice and saying "That's it." It didn't really stir her much. I am sure he is used to getting more animated looks for that. I kind of regret that the chef didn't do the tossing-food-to-your-face with a tinier piece of food; he chose a rather large vegetable for it. I missed the first one but caught the second. It was fun as the other times, but I do wish that I could take her to Disney once to show her what it's like. It's really a show there.

I kept thinking about it, even hours later when we were enjoying our frozen yogurt from the froyo bar down the street from the hotel. I kept thinking about how nice it would be to show her something really fantastic, but I looked up from my dark chocolate yogurt at her while she was talking - saw her smiling. That's all I really needed.

I was getting very used to going back to sleep. I hadn't slept as long, as quietly (without tumultuous dreams) as those last few days.
I knew it was just a vacation, but why did it feel so much more like home than my mailing address?
I thought a few more questions to myself, still not quite able to move yet. Sometimes my brain wakes before my body. Strange, paralyzed dream-like thought happen. It's when I am paralyzed this way that I have the most control of my dreams. I got the feeling back in my right side first. I got the rest of the feeling back in the form of a tentative wave of pain across my joints. It was like some kind of pain telegraph, reminding me where and who I was.
time to get up [ STOP ]
it is wednesday morning [ STOP ]
I swallowed the morning dryness from my mouth, now that I could move. My insides twisted a whimper out of me. Terrana was long awake already. I'd heard her alarm earlier. Because my body had become cooperatively mobile, I slithered over to nuzzle my nose at one of her legs. I mumbled that I really could get used to going back to sleep. Dangerous stuff!
I tried a waffle for breakfast. There was a collection of syrups next to the waffle maker. 'Sugar free syrup?' Well, okay, I'll bite. I got some orange marmalade, too, just in case it was terrible. It was.
Orange marmalade always reminded me of Uncle Mike, especially when he was stationed in the UK. I was always more interested in the places he was than Debbie had been, but none more than when he was stationed in Liverpool and lived with his girlfriend there. A typical navy guy, he had one in every port. He sent us candies and chocolates from there: a Wispa bar in a royal purple sleeve, a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar with a red squirrel on the wrapper, a group of chocolates in a mug set with "Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles" on it. It was surreal to see the things I hadn't heard before, the things that were just that little bit different. I'd let Debbie have the chocolate. It was really too sweet for me, even back then. It was very mild, though I didn't have quite the words to describe why I wasn't terribly find of it. I preferred the marmalade he sent. The foreign chocolate was too... soft-tasting. It was unsaturated and smooth, not the chocolate I was used to that was a bit more sour and had sharp twists and turns in the taste. Debbie didn't much care; it was candy and just eat it. There were a few different bars for each of us and we were meant to share the Turtles mugs. I traded my sister my share of the mug set if she'd give me the wrappers to the candy. What do you mean you threw them away?! After digging them out of the trash and carefully repairing the thoughtless damage to hers, I pressed the wrappers between the pages of my photo album. My cousin, Melissa, had made one for each of us. I'd kept every letter Uncle Mike sent us, especially from Liverpool. Why? The encyclopedias that had become my best friends through my childhood showed that Liverpool was just north of that place with Daddy's flags. I wanted to go there, one day. I wanted to see what Dad loved so much about it. Reading can only do so much.
All that flooded my brain in a few moments as I bit into my marmalade-laden waffle. At least it blocked out about a minute's worth of terrible news. Terrana and I shook our heads at the news. I was embarrassed for a mass of moments for the place where I was born, so I took it out on the compostable potato plates.
"Tea?"
"Tea!"
We both needed more chill time. I struggled to think of things to show her. Things that weren't closed or cost too much. My joints started to gnaw on themselves as I finished up some classwork. I needed to walk, I said. Neither of us wanted to go too far. Clouds were beginning to threaten a grand, almighty wet. I was so afraid I'd tired her. Hmm.
I flopped over on the bed. Pain arced from my knees to my hips. I decided it would probably be best to get my joints moving.
Balloons!
Oh, it was happening. I wondered who would have the cheapest bulk balloons. I hadn't known what I was walking to when I started, but as I moved, it got my brain turning. I could taste the balloon powder, already. I'd checked the Big Lots and A.C. Moore for them. By the time I'd come up empty the second time, I decided to go the rest of the three-quarter mile to the Walmart. As much as I dislike the idea of getting things from there, it's convenient and cheap and I was getting desperate.
I found them in the party section. Half off Fourth of July colors (labeled "Boy Mix") for some reason. I picked them over the "Princess Mix." Too much pink, really. I also picked up some long balloons for some balloon animals. I wondered if I still remembered the two-balloon wyvern. I know the poodle, though, but everyone 'a seen that.
I was full of giggles when I came back. I blew up a big red balloon first. Yes.
The next white balloon I blew had a hole in it already. Before she could warn me, it blew up in my face and I froze for possibly half a forever before giggling. I tried to teach Terrana how to tie them, but I kept getting them backwards trying to teach her with my other hand. She helped me blow up some and I tied them, then teased the Twitterverse for a while about look-how-many-balloons-we-have! I tied balloons until my index and middle fingers were raw on both hands. It only took 72 balloons. We poked them back and forth at each other between computer games. Glee.
It was afternoon before we were hungry again. In fact, it was nearly dinner time. We put the do not disturb door sign while we went out, so that the housekeeping staff wouldn't "clean" our balloons.
The Hibachi Grill and Sushi Buffet seemed like a great idea. I proceeded to eat too much entirely. Round Fluffle. I'd made Terrana a chopstick holder out of the wrapper. We played like quiet, silly fools. She dropped a chopstick on the floor making fun of the very inadequate instructions on the wrapper "for using chopstick". "Now you can pick up anything!" I was glad I had accidentally picked up too many! Sushi and rice noodles and green beans and hibachi happened for me. I picked up my sling bag each time, so when I picked my hibachi ingredients, a very young guy spied my imperial Skyrim keychain dangling from it. "Dragonborn?" he'd said.
"Oh yes. I have to make my nerd declaration, somehow, don't I?" I was being kind of loud, apparently. I didn't mean to be obnoxious, but afterward, Terrana told me she heard me all the way back at the table.
Ah well. I think he was trying to get some kind of Steam or online ID from me, but he wasn't getting any of that, certainly. My order was up, I put on extra Sriracha in sadly-appropriate nerd fashion, and winced when I realized I was fulfilling a stereotype.
I recognized a familiar and unpleasant scent that I hadn't much had to recognize since riding the train in early morning in spring: upon turning, I noticed the same homeless man I used to buy coffee for at the bus stop, back when I worked the center near Hopkins in the spring. I knew the scent well from having worked at the shelters and soup kitchens before. Definitely gangrene. It was an interesting and economic use of a morning's worth of panhandling, going to an all-you-can-eat place, I considered. I didn't want the scent to make either of us sick after having just eaten, though, so I gave him a respectful distance. Terrana told me later that she'd not detected it. The whole sentiment made me feel more inclined to spend the rest of the day in the hotel room.
So we did. It was full of games and feeding Terrana cookies. It was full of repeated piling of the balloons up on the bed and diving into them to the accompaniment of Terrana giggles. That sound made me happier than I remember being for quite a while.
We watched documentaries on science, including one on kissing, which was my favorite, of course. I forgot I was hurting or even hungry. Soon enough, quiet happiness and train-of-thought YouTube surfing gave way to night.
The only thing in walking distance for food things was the Qdoba at that time of night. I introduced Terrana to salsa verde, fluffed and chestpuffed when she declared that it was exactly what she wanted to have for a snack. I had fun with all the Spanish words. We talked about curry a bit. Why I didn't want to try it for the same reason burritos aren't burritos "back home".
You know, for a split second, I had forgotten that home wasn't that hotel room.

This is our last night, but it's late and I'm trying not to sleep, 'cause I know, when I wake...

I woke up to Thursday. Thinking it was still dark outside and having no idea of the time, started to stumble to the bathroom and... tripped over a balloon! Oooh, hello, balloons... I remembered. It put a silly smile on my face to see them quiver as I walked around them. I showered and relished in the particular scent of the travel soaps and shampoo the hotel had provided. When I came back to the bed, Terrana was awake and the curtains were open, letting the rainy-day light splash all about the room. I curled my body around her waist as she sat on the edge of the bed to wake up.
"Rrrrrl." I said.
"You were extra cuddly last night," she noted, smiling.
I only whimpered 'yeah' and tried to curl myself around her tighter. She had to know why. I wanted this one last night to be many more. I get greedy that way, I guess.

She got up to look at the rain splashing down even harder than it had the previous day. We opened the window to look at the little sparrows and feel the rain. Sometime during the night we'd decided to take a walk in the harbor that day... but it was much cooler than the day before. It felt more like fall, now. We made a joke about the weather being more British now because she was going home soon.

Whimper.

She put on a sweatshirt today. I was still in short sleeves, but had my super-long hippie jeans on, which I would later come to know as a mistake and tragic attractor of puddles. After a bit of breakfast (and, of course, tea), we decided to drive to the station nearby and take the train to the inner harbor. This was a wise choice; the traffic was terrible that day once we got in the city proper.

It was hard to find a parking spot at the light rail station that morning, too. I circled the lot until I found a place to park and did so with abnormally high skill. It's rare. She congratulated my improvements again and it made me feel rather good about myself, so, after I made sure we had all the things we'd need (including the leaky umbrella), I strutted to the fare kiosk. She got a paper ticket which actually never got checked the entire trip. I just used what was on my CharmCard. As luck would have it, a train going our way happened to go by while I was paying our fares. Blast.

No worries, though, because another one came by not even ten minutes later, but I had time to show her where I used to sit to go in to work and where Light Rail Mouse lived. It was very drizzly, though, and we didn't see him. Terrana noted how strange it was that we just could cross right over the tracks here instead of having an elevated walkway. I told her we're not fancy like that. I was reminded about how, a few times, the metro had been stopped by people deciding to end all their worries using the tracks. We agreed that was terrible to do to all the other commuters, because it is. The sky started to taste more silver. It rained a bit harder and the wind blew in nearly random directions. Terrana huddled next to the station shelter and I smiled at her. I felt the tracks vibrating a bit earlier than I had expected and looked northward -- it couldn't be our train already. No train from that direction, actually... it was our train... huh.

We found a spot for both of us to sit and cuddle and I told her about the character of some of the stops and even how some tasted and smelled to me. We talked about borrowed names and indigenous names. I wanted to remember every little thing we said and saw. I pointed out the Chesapeake, the M&T stadium, and we got off at Camden Yards. We skipped timidly over railroad tracks and followed camouflaged crosswalk signals to get to the harbor. I pointed out the convention center and we talked about how flag-happy this bloody place is. I like flags, but... wow. I have to agree. Even Baltimore City (like most any large city) has a flag. I meant to point out the place where I once collected a bit of Baltimore breeze off the bay, and to point out the dragon paddle boats I like, but we got distracted by a 10,000-pound Kugel Ball made of granite. It was spinning and floating on a thin layer of water and was A BIG ROCK so we both had to touch it. It was so smooth and wet and cool and swirling with glittering earthy colors that we had to touch it before we left the area one more time. Written over the ball were phrases about Baltimore, "It is illegal in the state of Maryland to mistreat an oyster." I actually knew that, for some reason. We only got as close as to see the huge sculpture of Bumblebee made from car parts and the Mini Cooper made up with millions of Swarovski crystals, because the blaring music turned us away. I wish I would have been able to stand the loud music, though, because there was some neat stuff inside.

We discovered a new McCormick store inside the mini-mall there, right across from the old fudge shop and the Noodles. According to the spice and flavor personality test, I was cheesy-flavor. I was surprised! (Not really.) We saw huge tins and pour-your-own spices and EVERY flavor of Old Bay there was. Why we didn't pick up a container right there, I don't remember. We went into a shop where the salespeople were too overly-friendly for Terrana, who is not used to such ridiculous flamboyance in a shopkeeper. It made me giggle a little. So many new shops in there! It was getting to be lunchtime, though, so we splashed out to the purple line to get to Cross Street, even though it'd have been easier and more comfortable to walk, really. The free buses were a lot more crowded than when I started using them. Word travels fast about free services!

I'd be a liar if I said that getting off the bus into the rain in Federal Hill wasn't a relief. So humid and stuffy and full of breath! (We walked back to the inner harbor and had a much more pleasant, though wet, time.) I stepped on the bricks in the sidewalk on tiptoe, but corrected myself before reaching the alley that hid The Abbey Burger Bistro. I need to stop literally walking on tiptoe all the time. The alley smelled like ketchup and beer too much. I quickly pointed out Keytech before ducking inside.

We seated ourselves and I gave in to impulse and got waffle fry nachos. I had smoked angus and had chickened out of trying the duck, rabbit, or camel. I think if I had been braver I would have tried camel. Apparently the kangaroo burger was good. Next time we won't put salsa on it, though. Spicy, juicy delicious. And a big carafe of cold water. We talked about sports, of all things. I can't believe I talked about sports. I "hate" sports like I "hate" cats: I'll say so until there is one in front of me and then, "Here, kitty! Kitty-kitty! Awww, kitty!" or "Oooh catch that pop fly- YES!" Apparently the fierce defending of one's home team is not an American phenomenon. Tater tots, on the other hand, are.

I skipped Cross Street Market -- too busy for such a nice rainy day. I kept turning to make sure she was beside me every few feet. We twisted and turned down alleys to get back to the harbor, my being assaulted with familiar scents between bursts of exhaust and soggy-sky-smell, making everything taste a bit ochre to me. I wandered us over to the big Barnes & Noble store in the 100-year-old Power Plant. I told her about Dick's Last Resort. If you are a troll, you'll like that place. That's all I'll say. We were greeted by a pleasant security guard inside. It was drier inside the 3-story bookstore. I was enjoying the new-book scent. In lieu of taking her to the aquarium (the dolphins are depressed after the loss of their calves this past year, sadly) we looked at the aquarium-sponsored tank next to the café. Neon tetras are beautiful and glowy. We marveled at the transparent escalator covers, which I'd not noticed before. Though the inner works of the escalators were entrancing, we didn't linger very long; I didn't have the storage for any more books! Temptation!

Little sparrows kept us company on the way back to the convention center stop. Hello, little sparrows.

We had some time, so off to- Quick! Catch the train to Mt. Washington! I had gotten on the wrong side, but Terrana saved the day by running to catch the door for us.
"You're well trained in trains, aren't ya?" I said. Gods, I love her smile.

Mt. Washington was more for my sense of nostalgia than to show her new things. Little had changed since Chris and I had lived there. We ordered hot drinks to drive a bit of chill away. The bottom of my pants, my shoes, and my socks were soaked with chilly rainwater. It made me feel sleepy and sore and ... mmmm coffee. I got a free pumpkin spice sugar cookie with my Pumpkin Spice Latte! I split-I-mean-ate-most-of-it with Terrana. Time for going back and snuggling on the train again. Not that I minded. For future reference, the ride is much nicer with a cuddle buddy.

While at the train stop waiting to get on to go back to the car, Terrana asked which stop we'd need. "North Linthicum," I said. "I wonder if that word is indigenous, too..."
"It sounds like medicine... Add 3 drops of Tincture of Linthicum to the eye... shake vigorously... wait for screaming to stop."
I was a mess of giggles. "'Shake vigorously'?!" I whipped my head around, making sure to make that puppy head-shaking sound, then tried to make a mock screech through my giggling. It didn't sound like screaming, but I will bet the people in the train shelter next to us thought we were nuts.

And maybe we are, a little.

I even remember which stores we went to in order to find her a lovely toy she couldn't find back at home. The salesman at the electronics store was so very awkward and nervous, it was rubbing off on me! It was actually quite late by the time we got back to the hotel with it. Knowing it was our last full night together, I thought of a way to dispose of the balloons that would make for a nice way to end the evening: we spent an hour or so quietly popping each one to something new we'd found out that week. I remember all 70 things we said. It was wonderful and better than unceremoniously throwing them away. Sometimes, when I think of the things we said, I can remember what color the balloon was. Some sputtered, some whooshed, and some spun in crazy circles when we let go of them. It was the most silly and tender and meaningful. It's a memory that tastes ivory, of mint cacao tea... with a little splash of milk.

All the tastes and smells and colors and sounds and touches and feelings... I want to remember everything and keep it forever.

I'll re-live the days backwards. That way the saddest part is over first, and I can end with a happy beginning.

Really it was one of my favorite days. I remember what they had for breakfast in the hotel lobby: western omelettes and bacon on the hot bar. I made everything into a sandwich.
"This is not bacon... I don't know what this is..." she chuckled.
"It's bacon paper, I guess..."
We laughed about silly food things and made tea. At least the tea was good. Then we went to about three grocery stores to get Old Bay. Only one had it in reduced sodium. We packed it up in her suitcase with the Cacao Mint Black tea. I winced seeing her suitcase in my trunk.

"Last day... what do you want to do?" I asked her. For some reason, I remember just how my seat belt clicked.
"I don't know, I suppose that's not helpful..." then, after some consideration, said it didn't matter to her where we went.
"If it doesn't matter where we are," I said, putting the car into drive, "Then it doesn't matter which way we go."

So we just drove. We listened to the music she'd brought and to some of mine. The rain fell in pulsating static. I chose the roads that would let me drive the fastest in the rain. For a Friday, the roads were kind of empty. Product of the shutdown I guess. I lamented that we couldn't have gone to some of the parks, or the museums, or the zoo, but only for a few moments. The road I found led us to Annapolis Mall. (Because malls are destination of themselves, not a place to simply buy products, right?) We laughed at the cute frozen yogurt bars, and the fact that there were three of them in one mall. Menchie's there has adorable benches and had pumpkin flavor, but we weren't hungry. I could feel my sugar creeping up anyway.

"Want to see some crazy fish tanks?"
"Sure."

So we saw the crazy fish tank next to the children's area. Surprising amount of whelps in there. (We didn't linger long. All the parents with the screaming children kind of turned us off.) At least we got to see the new sea snake in the tall aquarium around the tank. I'd not noticed him before. The other tank had a few clown fish added and a new little neon-colored, tiny lobster. I held my breath through the perfume department of the Lord & Taylor. Fancy department stores are so preppy and superfluous.

I wanted to go into the Halloween store across the street, but my brain said 'just drive.'

"We didn't park over there..." she reminded me when I walked too far into the Sears.
I think I babbled something about when Chris and I usually park over near the tools. I kind of wonder if he does that on purpose.

Fast forward. Rain on the windshield. I flip my wipers one way, then another, fumbling.
"Put it in the wrong one?"
"No, no," I said, gesturing my head toward the lane and exit I wanted, then realizing she'd meant my wipers. "Oh, yes, yes."
I think we giggled.

Then we both looked out at the rain, we were sailing by the airport and the downpour was heavier than it had been all day.
"I'm surprised you can see that," she said, "I know it's because there's a hill, but the road just disappears."
I nodded. I couldn't see very well, actually, but it wasn't my windshield clouding my vision.

Then a plane went right in front of us, trailing behind it on its wingtips a long, glittering ribbon of rain and clouds. It slid southward and took the beautiful moment with it. Piano keys with rainstorm percussion replaced the sound of my held breath in my ears.

I focused on the road. It's not over yet, I told myself.

Just a little more time. I heard the instrumental melody to "Chasing Cars" and the song was so perfect for the moment, I couldn't help myself but sing it a little. It lifted my heart for her voice to join mine.
"Forget what we're told... before we get too old...
Show me a garden that's bursting into life..."

We went back to Arundel Mills. Again with the shopping malls. We bypassed the casino and revisited Cheesecake factory for the place with her favorite salad so far. Luau Salad is still the best salad. A mountain of salad. She got barbecue chicken salad, though, because you can't get that back home. I got the Chinese chicken salad that had some strange foamy noodles that kind of forced me to eat like a dinosaur. There's nothing wrong with dinosaurs. I was nervously friendly with the flamboyant boy seated next to us with his auntie. He dropped his fork, I remember, and exclaimed "I am just fallin' apart!"

You and the rest of us, buddy. It made me smile, though.

When we left I said "don't fall apart, now!" He thought that was cute.

I wanted to hold her hand, so I did all the way to the car. I wanted to flee north. I just took roads. I took exits that were a little familiar. Reisterstown is where I ended up. Awkward running-into of furries I didn't want to see. We had enough time to stop for the bathroom before heading back to the airport. Everything started to get blurry more.

And I pushed it. I pushed it until the traffic going back toward the airport was in danger of making us late. Making her late. I didn't want that. I drank lemon in my tea. I still have the photo that I took of the parking spot with the tea sitting next to it. The fancy lights that count the open spaces, the painted on numbers kind of swirled into elevators and left behind on both moving sidewalks.

BWI is a small airport. It was rather easy to navigate. We located the blinking icon that showed her flight was on time. We got salads again at a restaurant on the US side of security. Mine had dirt in it. I ate it anyway. The server was terrible and I tipped him 15% anyway. Maybe if I did all the nice things magic would happen and...

But it didn't. I was waiting for the server and looked at her eyes a few more last times.

Just one more time... once more?

A few times heading back to security I had to look away. You made it pretty well so far, don't mess it up now!

One more hug just one more.

But one more was the last one, and I had to let her go. Tears didn't even wait until I got to the parking garage. I could still see the ground. I knew the way. I had been this way before, and it hasn't changed much. I held my quiet. I held my keys. I held my steering wheel.

I held my breath.

And then...
"Let's waste time...
Chasing cars...
Around our heads..."

This is the part where you'd expect me to burst into tears and fall over the steering wheel in a clump of sobs.

But I didn't.

Instead I took in a deep breath; the car still smelled like her a bit. I used that breath to belt out the song, and sang it all the way home.

I pretty much hate when artists post a submission that advertises the livestream, instead of a journal.

It's kind of fucking annoying.

Reason? I dunno. I guess I get excited about seeing my favorite artists' art pieces only to find out it's some shitty advertisement. I get enough ads on the rest of the Internet. Damn!

It just irks me. I'm sure many disagree. If you're an artist that does this, do yourself a favor and save your breath from trying to convince me that you MUST post a whole repeated sign every time you stream. (Especially the shitty, looks-like-I-used-paint-for-this bullshit. Have some fucking skill if you're going to make an ad, or I won't be interested at all!) Your explanations/excuses aren't going to sway me. Will still hate it.

I have plenty of friends, so if reading what's on my mind will make you want to remove me from your list-of-people-I-snoop-on-but-don't-really-care-for, so be it.

Catharsis Tuesday
Confession Tuesday
Friend-pruning Tuesday

Whatever you want to call it. If you are really swayed that much by my "meaningless" opinion, then good riddance to you.

Unpopular Opinion of the day:
I don't like porn.

Pick your jaw up off the floor.

Let me be more specific than, "I don't like porn." It does not work for me. I think most of it is stupid and cheap. It's all shock value, and I have seen enough in my life to not be shocked. True talent is not required to produce porn and smut. It's kind of sad. There is no romance. No closeness. It's not even disgusting. It's flavorless.

It's boring.

I get nothing out of watching/looking at/reading about strangers pretending to fuck. When artists I like post porn, I almost immediately delete it. I use the SFW button a lot to filter the real art out. Some people will look at anything with a slimy bit of pixels representing a dick. Not me.

If I favorite your porn, it means it was classy, or interesting. You put effort and meaning and interest and LOVE into it. You made a tasteful (even delicious) pinup of a large girl, or a meaningful candid of a transgender buck, or a triptych depicting an awkward trio of teens experimenting with each other. Your work has emotion. It has a reason to exist beyond producing dirty tissues. It is not porn. It is erotic.

It you are hurt because I did not favorite your dick picture, I can't feel badly for you. It's because I don't like it. Probably not at all, in fact. I hate most of the porn on this site. Very little went into it. I put more effort into my rubber stamping.

Maybe it has to do with my not wanting to see or experience anyone except my loved ones, or maybe because I am desensitized to nudity.

No.

No, that's not it. I don't love your porn because it doesn't love me. It never will.

Love has taken me in, lifted my load,
and in this empty space a wonder grows:
a dream of some kind of peace
I could hold up as true...
I never knew anything about love before you

This email came attached to ALL the emails from ALL the applicants, plain as day.

On Jul 22, 2013, at 6:23 PM, Nick Carver <someguy@bronycon.org> wrote:

Thank you all for your eagerness to help out with BronyCon, but at this time the Con Store staff is full.

--
~Nick "Steam Jet" Carver~
Department Head of Finance
BronyCon 2013

Peeved, I replied:

This is rather late to be telling all of us, isn't it? Also, Bcc: will hide all email addresses. It is terribly inconsiderate, insecure, and unprofessional to have released all of those emails. People have had legal action against them for less.

I am a few days away from writing a proposal for my final for fundamentals of art. The final piece will go into our professional portfolio. It needs to convey a message, as all art does. Whatever it is, it needs to be effective. I doubt we will be given as much freedom later on in the program.

What kind of art would be powerful enough to enter in a portfolio designed to convince someone to hire me?

NOPE.

Going dark for possibly (at least) a few days. I have quite a bit of work to do. Also I need to rediscover that bouncy mood I had when I woke up yesterday.

I need some information. I would like to get a good average length to make my pre-made collars and wrist straps. Measure you and a friend or so and comment here with measurements in inches or centimeters of your neck, wrist, ankle, and bicep circumferences. I will be doing my own research, and I have a preset already, but getting some data points can't hurt. That way I'll check them when I get back.

I know this is old news for some, but I did not know it was still a bit rampant in this area.

Three sick (now dead) birds in the past 12 hours between our house and the neighbors: two American Robins and a Spotted/Downy Woodpecker presented with symptoms of illness.

The health department and animal control WILL NOT PICK THEM UP. Pick them up with a shovel and dispose of them in a plastic bag in the trash or bury them outside reach of pets. DO NOT TOUCH the bird, even (especially) if it is still alive. Treat it as if it has rabies.

Health department and animal control will not pick them up because they already know that West Nile Virus is in the area and have no more reason to test the birds for it.

The department did tell me to empty all containers holding the standing water which allows the mosquitos that pass the virus to humans to breed. Drill holes in trash cans. Spray mosquito infestations and wear repellant if able. If you have areas near your home with standing water, call your local homeowner's association or the Department of Natural Resources in your area as soon as possible. Report numerous bird deaths only to health department.

Apparently not today, because they are closed (Navy Graduation Holiday).

Did I mention that my trash ran this morning, so I had to bury this bastard in the rain because I did not want him to sit in my trash for a week?

Stay safe and smart. The rainy weather is great for these mosquitos and I don't want any of my fellow furs sick.

Let me give you some background.

Last year, for example, I pulled some favors and herded contacts. I secured group rates for a zoo trip. If I got ten people to go, it'd be half price at the Baltimore Zoo. I even got an okay to wear fullsuits during the visit. That was not enough, though! I bought recycling sacks and telescoping grabbers and got a further discount by telling the lady in charge of groups at the Zoo about the first part of our meet: that, on honor of Earth day, we would be cleaning up trash in Baltimore prior to the zoo visit. What an awesome idea right?! I posted the event on FA and FB and talked it up on Twitter. No one. Nothing.

Well, okay... How about 'whoever picks up the most trash gets free admission'? No one. Eventually one person, who lived very far away and had just heard about the event, said he would go; however, it wasn't enough to make our group rate. I told him not to come to the event, which would have been an unfortunate expense for him, especially since the DC zoo is local to him AND free to enter.

I was bummed. I had offered free art and everything. I decided that perhaps the furries were just too busy for extra community service. Maybe too busy with jobs or family or art and they just want to unwind.

Food. Perhaps they will come for food. Older furries, beer! I arranged a meet at the Dog Pub. Worse results.

I admit. I got frustrated. I gave up for a while.

I even arranged a picnic. With 0 furs.

You know what, though? It's not about the picnics. Being in tune with your local furs isn't about the number of meets you have. It's about having friends that you love. Furs that you can call on to have a good time. Furs you can call or text or message when you're in trouble or just down or bored. When you need to move furniture, a bunch of friends are there. You can talk about your spirituality and your hobbies and your family without scorn. When you have something to give away, you ask them first because they mean a lot to you. Someone needs something, you're there. You're laid up after surgery and can't mow your lawn or do your laundry? We've got you. Want to go to the grocery store together? Your refrigerator bit it? Dude, use mine. I know some recipes to salvage your defrosted stuff. Hey guys I know this place that is awesome for hanging out nearby. I'm having a yard sale! I'm graduating! Hey guys, I have a pool, everybody bring something to nom and we'll splash around! Hey guys, wanna play Rock Band?

Having local furries isn't about big gatherings and show-stopping events. It's about having people nearby that understand you more than other people might.

Now who wants to go grab an iced tea with me?

It won't kill you to put a bit of effort in! If someone isn't doing something good enough for you, fucking do it yourself.

I have an odd set of requestions.

Yes. Requestions. It's a word now.

If you are bothered or angered by taxidermy, or think it is WRONG, stop reading. Go look for something else.

Still with me? Good.

Anyone who knows me probably was a bit thrown off by the title of this post, because, you see, Daxter has been dead for well over a year now. When he died, we had sent him to the taxidermist, because he's our baby and we love him and, in our family, that's what you do to pets instead of burying them in the ground in containers that will never decompose.

Anyhow, the taxidermist did a beautiful job. He still even has his ears on, and he saved all four paws separate so that we could have them made into "lucky" rabbit feet.

But there's a problem. We don't have anything to make them into keychains WITH and even worse, Daxter got... erm... crunchy? Sorry to be graphic. He is very stiff. He is not pliable like Snow the fox is and we went to go call him to ask him what to do or what to treat him with and...

The taxidermist is dead.

:x

Now what?

I need to know how to make Daxter's precious paws into the lucky bunny feet for Chris for his birthday (September) and I need to know how to soften Daxter's pelt safely. I don't want to lose my baby (again)!

So if any of you know a service or place that I could send it or something I could use myself safely, please let me know. This is very important to me.

Thank you.