More updates, per request

After reading my last post, the update on my four children, Mark asked about C, the young gay man who lived with us for a while. "A while" turned out to be 12 years, off and on.

Here's some background, for those who may be new or have forgotten the story. I'll try to be brief. In the spring of 2005 C told his mom he was gay. He had previously come out to my daughter Light. They were good friends in high school. C told his mom not to mention it to the stepdad, who's a douche canoe, but she did and stepdad said "not in my house!" So things prevailed and he ended up here.

Up until then Superman and I had been active members of the PCA, a conservative Presbyterian denomination. You know, conservative Christian: anti-gay, anti-abortion, etc. I hadn't personally considered my thoughts on homosexuality in a long time, just went with the flow of what the church taught. But then I met C, and quickly began to question that ideology. I pretty much immediately fell in love with C as a human being. (Not romantic love, none of that foolishness. Good grief, he was 17 years old! And gay!) No, my Mama Bear instincts kicked in. In short, he moved in with us. It was spring of his senior year in high school, he was a few months away from graduating and turning 18 when he was kicked out of his home. What kind of hateful crazy is that?

He had begun a relationship, his first gay love, about that time. So then his boyfriend moved in too. All four of our kids were still here. Light is a year younger than C. It was kinda crazy, especially with Sproing and Diva being batshit emotionally disturbed. I was heavily medicated.

After a couple of years maybe (I didn't keep close track of the timing of these things) C and his boyfriend moved to their own place. Shortly thereafter they broke up. C lived in a couple of other places for another few months, but was not doing well. He was being evicted from an apartment and was hungry. He finally, the prideful fool, called me. Good grief. And I told him to stay in contact, but ... I dunno. He was young and proud and foolish. So yeah, he moved back in.

Moved back in, started another relationship, long distance, with a minor (17 yr old) in North Carolina. Can't remember what nickname I called him. C and I drove my truck up to his home near Charlotte, NC and moved him out of his mom's house on his 18th birthday. Mom was upset, called the cops, but there wasn't anything they could do because he was an adult, legally.

I consulted with one of my blogger buddies with a law background about all of this. He cautioned me to NOT bring the boy home until after he was an adult. Especially crossing state lines, man, I could have gotten in a heap o' trouble.

That relationship was doomed from the start, really. The education/intelligence/maturity difference between the two boys was insurmountable. But C was 18, maybe 19 by then, and knew everything so I let him learn on his own. The two of them lived here for a little while, then moved into another apartment as roommates with another gay couple their age. In true daytime drama fashion, that exploded. C developed a loathing for the NC boyfriend and a huge crush on the younger man of the other couple. By "younger man" I mean he wasn't even 18 yet. And it was an unrequited crush.

C broke up with the NC boyfriend a few days before NC's birthday in October. The kid was crushed. As contentious as the relationship had become I don't understand why he was so surprised. So C moved back here and so did the other young fellow. They were "just friends" according to Young Guy, but C carried a torch, you know? They were here for a lot of months, maybe as long as a year, when Young Guy moved out. I can't remember how things situated with C at that point, but I know he moved out a little while later. Each time he moved out he'd not stay in contact. Pissed me off. And he didn't keep a consistent phone number, not being able to afford to keep the phone on. Typical of independent young people in my experience.

He showed back up on our doorstep, hungry and homeless once again. This was right after Diva moved out for good. I had C physically clean and spiritually cleanse her room. We repainted it for him to move into that room. Such better energy with him there than when she was living in it, OMG! Diva moved out toward the end of the year in 2015, about a month before her 18th birthday. He moved in before Christmas, if I recall. He was here until last spring, I think, so about a year and a half.

Then his mother called. Remember his mom? The one who together with her husband the douche canoe kicked C out a decade ago? Well, her husband decided to divorce her. Why she ever married the fool in the first place I will never know, nor why she stayed with him for so long. OK, I know why she stayed. Because Jesus said so. Which is of course why she kicked C out of the house, too. So now she's getting divorced and moving into her own apartment. She's a registered nurse working in one of the hospitals in the Charleston, SC area. She has never lived alone. She lived with her mom until she married C's dad. They divorced when C was 5 or 6? Maybe 7, I dunno. She then married Douche Canoe almost immediately (that's how the young C remembers it). Now she's middle aged and alone, so she decides that C should come "home" to live with her in Charleston.

He has been working at Captain D's seafood establishment (I hesitate to call it a restaurant, though technically it is, I suppose) since he was in high school, again, off and on. By now of course he's an assistant manager. Or a manager but not the big boss manager. I don't know how these things work. Anyway, he was able to transfer to a store in the Charleston area. He's been living with his mother (OMG how did that happen? What were you thinking?) for going on a year here in the spring. I talk to him occasionally, once every couple of months. He says he and mom are getting along well. They disagree about many things, but respect each other's differences.

They always had a good relationship as C was growing up, right there until the end. They're mother and son, but also good friends. I'm happy for him, He seems to be doing well. He concentrates all his energy on work, hasn't made any friends of his own as far as I can tell. Last time we talked I encouraged him to get out and meet people. Now that he lives in the greater Charleston area there's a better chance of meeting like-minded (gay) people. He'll be 30 years old this June. IMHO he needs to get a life.

I love him dearly, like a son even. I miss him. I'm glad he has a good relationship with his mother and I wish he'd spend more effort maintaining the relationship we have. I should call or text him more often, myself.

And that's the story of C up to this point.

Once again, here I am

So much has happened, but my heart hasn't been into the writing of it. However, I want to stay in contact with this blog. And damn it all, as so often happens once I get to this point all my ideas flee my head.

I think I need a nap.

I took a nap. Some time passed between those last two sentences.

Diva is once again living with her birth mother in Spartanburg. Her bedroom here has been transformed. First of all, Cory did a spiritual cleansing (and physical cleaning) of the space.

Wait, who's Cory? you ask. I have previously referred to him a C. He's the young man who started my whole gay journey, the one who moved in with us at age 17 when he came out to his mom and she kicked him out of her home. He has lived here off and on for the last almost ten years. And oh yeah, he has moved back in as of the 31st of August. Just a week or so after Diva left, coincidentally.

So, Diva's room: it got cleaned and cleansed, then Superman and I painted it blue. It's never been blue before, not since we've lived here. It's been green, pink and purple, yellow and purple, but not blue. After the distructo-child lived there, poisoning it with her hatred, that room needed a big change. It looks damned good, if I do say so myself. Cory lives there now. Diva knows she no longer has a room here, which hopefully will encourage her to NOT COME BACK!!

Now, for Sproing. He's in jail. Big people jail, not kiddie jail. The first day of school for the kids here was the 17th of August. Sproing skipped school that day and, unbeknownst to me, went with a friend of his to the home of another acquaintance and burgled the house. They broke in through a window and stole not one but two Play Stations (PS4s, I think). Plus the peripherals like cords, controllers and a couple of games. That was a Monday. That Thursday a couple of detectives from the police department came by to ask if I knew anything. I had seen the things, not knowing from whence they came. So the detectives went to the school and "interviewed" Sproing. He was taken to the county detention center from there and I haven't seen him since. He's been charged with second degree burglary and grand larceny (>$2000 but < $10,000).  I requested that he be kept there rather than let out on bail. The judge set his bail at $30,000. So there he sits.

Actually he is supposed to be in court tomorrow on his charge of credit card fraud for stealing almost $900 from us. I'm not going to worry about it. If they need him there, they'll have to walk him across the street from the detention center to the court house. I'm not sure when he's to appear for the new burglary and larceny charges. I'm not the victim on record for those.

And here's the thing. For a long time I've had hope for that kid. He's relatively intelligent. Stupid as shit in the unwise sense, but smart otherwise. He also talks a good talk. He's been stringing me along all summer, promising to look for a job and making a show of it, but not really doing anything. He said all sorts of inspiring things about starting school and being on track, etc. He had a conference with his guidance counselor the second day of school. They made grand plans for him to graduate next January, just half a year behind schedule. He sounded good. But the day before that discussion he had seriously broken the law.

He betrayed me. Or I allowed myself to be hoodwinked and thus feel betrayed. Diva has been a hot mess for the longest time and I have little hope of her being a responsible citizen, but I thought Spoing had the stuff to deliver.

So I am D O N E with him. I'm angry and hurt. I spoke to him on the phone a couple of times the first week he was incarcerated. He wanted me to arrange a meeting with the judge to try to work something out so he could be out on bail. HA! I said No. He's been there three weeks as of today. Funny, it seems like longer. Hmph, probably feels like longer to him, too. GOOD!! Anyway, I wrote him a letter yesterday and sent $20 (in a Postal Money Order only) for his canteen account. I called the jail to ask how I could visit him, and the nice lady said I had to be on an approved visitor list; he has to add me, but he needs to know my name, birth date, phone number, and drivers license number. Yeah, he won't know that one. But I asked about sending him stamps and envelopes so he can write to me, but she said nope. I can send money and he can buy those supplies in the canteen. So I sent some money. Which he'll probably spend on chips and soda. Anyway, I'll call in a few days and see if I'm on his visitor list. I'm about ready to talk to him again, but have only recently reached this point. Superman isn't ready to talk to him yet.

If he ends up staying in jail until (or past) January 24th, he won't move back home. That's his 18th birthday, and after he's 18 we aren't legally obligated to providing a home for him. Since he confessed to his involvement with the burglary I guess he'll plead guilty unless he gets a public defender who convinces him otherwise. The stolen goods were retrieved from this house, though, where he said he'd hid them, so I don't think he has a defense. Anyway, if convicted I predict he'll spend at least 12 months in jail, maybe more. He's in the county jail now. After conviction, though, I don't know if he'll stay in the jail or go to prison. As I was recently informed, there's a difference.

I never thought I'd be having this discussion about one of my children. It turns my stomach.

So the house has been peaceful for a couple of weeks since Diva left. Twitch is here still, and Cory's here now. They are so much more calm than Diva and Sproing! My life has, for now anyway, eased somewhat. The stress level is much lower. I'm still in shock, or something like it. Don't think I'll relax until both of them turn 18. Diva hits the big "adult" on 4 December.

In the meantime I'm not sure what I'm doing. Working on Diva's room was helpful. Actually I got to go through all her stuff. She'd left everything at the home of a friend when she left for Spartanburg, and Superman retrieved it from there. We had it here for a few days before we were "able" to get it to her. I cleaned out a lot of junk. Seriously, empty shampoo and deodorant containers? I had Cory go through her shirts to get rid of what he thought was unsuitable. I wanted that done but wasn't quite able to do it myself. Now it's all NOT in my house. I went through Sproing's stuff too. He has significantly less than she did.

The next project is to make changes to his old room similar to what we did to hers. Not sure what color(s) to paint it. Diva's room is light smoky blue on three walls, slightly darker on the 4th wall. We might do something like that with the colors for Sproing's old room, or paint it one color. Do any of you have suggestions? I won't go with purple again, not that I don't (or didn't) like that color, but after Diva it has some negative associations for me. Also no red. I don't do red, not in large swaths like that.

I'm rambling. I want to comment on Jay's suicide, but I'm not sure what to say. It hurts. Hurts more this week than it did last week, for some reason. As I said to a couple of other bloggers, it's a tragic situation all around.

I've had trouble this week getting anything done. Tuesday was somewhat productive, but yesterday and today I haven't done jack. Can't seem to get myself out of bed. I finally showered at 5:15 yesterday evening. Haven't bathed today. I did get dressed, though. Yay me. I made a list Tuesday of things to do yesterday. And there it sits, waiting for me to do something. Maybe tomorrow.

And that's about all I have to say right now. Writing this blog post has been the most productive thing I've done today. I'm gonna call that a win.

It's been a busy week?

I don't know anything anymore.

Diva has been doing her shorter school day for about a week now. The special-needs bus brings her home around 1:00 in the afternoon. She hangs around, watches TV, sleeps in the afternoon. I have no gumption to encourage anything else. I don't know what to do with her anyway. If we talk too much we end up fighting, so I'm trying to stay out of her way.

This is fucked up. This is not how I envisioned my life with my adopted children. Things were going to be so much better than this. There have been lots of missteps along the way. I did what I thought was right for a long time, and of course I made mistakes. But at some point a few years ago (probably five years if I had to guess) the balance tipped. I am in over my head with these kids. I don't know what to do and have no confidence to try much of anything anyway.

I read over the past few posts about Diva. I really do sound like a rotten mother. I have a bad attitude, that's for sure.

Sproing has been in jail for three weeks now. Not sure when he'll go before the judge again, but it will probably be within another three weeks. Superman and I had a good visit with him Saturday. He turned 16 a couple of weeks ago and is itching to try for his drivers' license as soon as he gets sprung from juvie. Yeah, we'll see. Really, I don't know. I think there should be an easy answer, that he definitely should (or should not) get his license yet. But I don't know and haven't the mental/emotional fortitude to figure it out. Or to stick with a plan.

And Twitch is home again. I drove down to Charleston last Thursday to get him and all his stuff. He's here. And pretending to look for a job, but not very hard in my estimation. He wants to go to Cincinnati (I don't know where that came from) to get a job, but he has no money, no prospects, nothing to go on. I told him to get a job here, make some money, do a bunch of research and job searching online and when he's got enough cash to make the move and a job to go to, then he'll be ready to go. He's been moping and mumbling around here since Friday. He helped his dad gather firewood on Sunday, that was helpful.

C moved out over the weekend. Twitch is now in the room C and his friend shared. This is the third time, if I recall, that C has lived here then moved away. This time is the worst yet. "How do you mean, Java?" Well, we had to kick him out this time. The other two times he motivated himself to go and had an apartment to go to. Now he moved in with some other friends and the situation is not ideal. It's a fairly small house with way more people than fit comfortably. Of course that could be said about this place. Also, the other residents have three dogs and there's a 5-year-old kid there at least part of the time. C doesn't deal with children well, and he has little patience for dogs (less for cats, but that's another story). C is a cook at the local Shoney's restaurant and doesn't seem to have any further dreams. He almost graduated from college but quit with two classes to go. Or maybe it was one. I don't remember. It looks to me like his life is stuck in idle and no one is at the controls. The clutch operator went out for a smoke break and hasn't returned in a while.

But he's gone from here, so hopefully that will help him kickstart his life again. He was definitely too comfortable here.

So lots of changes in the past week. In all of these things I feel a degree of guilt. Other feelings, too, but definitely guilt. Maybe it's misplaced, maybe not. Doesn't matter. It's what I'm dealing with. And not dealing well, either. On the other hand, I haven't gotten drunk since my last post. I have been eating too much, though. I feel a lot of pain right now, and I'm looking to food for some feel-good. I had a small ice cream thing a couple of hours ago and now my stomach feels unsettled. It didn't taste good enough to make me feel happy, either, so now I'm just sorry I ate it at all. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who can't eat when they're depressed, but really it's all bad, so whatever.

In happy news (the only happy news around here at all) Light had her Master of Fine Arts oral defense this morning. She passed! And her art show is this Saturday. She says everything is set up and looks good. Superman and Twitch will drive to western Pennsylvania on Thursday to spend the weekend with her, see her show, etc. I'm disappointed that I don't get to go, but Superman hasn't been to see her in nearly two years and I've been twice since then. I'll be here with Diva. Hopefully Sproing won't get out of jail until his dad gets back next Tuesday or Wednesday. So I'm happy as hell for Light, and glad that Superman and Twitch get to see her.

Today, that's all I got.

Beginning with a quote, some random tidbits, then a boring ramble about my life

Another quote, because I found it relevant.

The art of progress is to preserve order amid change, and to preserve change amid order. -Alfred North Whitehead, mathematician and philosopher (1861-1947)

I also like this guy's name; Alfred North Whitehead. An auspicious name, indeed.

A sign of inflation: the leading men in romance novels are now billionaires. Being a lowly millionaire isn't enough anymore.

To The Cat: Do you think I love you? No. You are not worthy of love. You demand worship, thereby foregoing the privilege of love.

I spent many hours this afternoon sorting through things. I'm trying to clear out some of the clutter. It's not technically a New Year's Resolution, because I don't like to make those. But it's something I've been working toward for a few months. (Years, maybe?) This is a convenient time to do it because Superman is home for two weeks and he helps me get things accomplished. We have been painting the front room this week. Well, painting it some more. We'd already put the gray on the wainscoting and the yellow above the chair rail. This week I have painted the yellow stripes on the yellow wall. It looks really good! The contrast is subtle and the whole thing works well, I think. We've decided to repaint the trim, too, because by golly it needs it. The existing color works really well with what we've done to the walls, and Superman found the right can of paint, so we can repaint. I was hoping to do that today (hoping Superman would do it, because he said he would and he's better with the detail work, anyway) but other things, important things, got done today instead.

So I started going through some of the boxes and bags of junk. I've only just begun. I found interesting things, like the sketch books and syllabi from two of my art classes that I took at Mercer University in 1986. One was a drawing class (b o r i n g), the other was advanced ceramics (thrilling!!). I kept those. I threw away the old colored pencils from the drawing class, though. Unfortunately I kept more that I tossed from that box. I took care of a couple of other box/bag things. There is SO MUCH more to do! It's intimidating. I'm supposed to tell myself "good for you for doing as much as you did" but sometimes I don't believe myself when I say crap like that. I organized our board games bin, too. Good for me.

In the box that holds our board games (it's our coffee table, too) I found a huge box of old pictures. That's what finally did me in. I looked through a few of them but had to stuff it all back in the box and put it in the other cabinet where it should have been already anyway. I don't know how it got into the coffee table box. Subterfuge, maybe.

Do you know how hard it is for a hoarder (that's me) (I can claim it now, which I suppose is progress, huh?) to sort through and throw away things? I feel good about what I accomplished, honestly. It feels good, in a way, to let loose of the junk. But it takes an emotional toll. And yeah, those pictures tipped me over the edge. I predict it will be many many months (years?) before I'm ready to sort the pictures.

I have two other boxes in the chairs at the dining table that I need to sort though. Then there are another three or four boxes of general crap in the front yellow room that I need to process before we can use the room. It all seems so overwhelming right now. I've had a beer, though, and that helps a little bit. Superman took over supper preparations (I got the collard greens cleaned and on the stovetop. He's made cornbread, supervised the cooking of the greens, and I think he may have heated up a can of baked beans. We didn't have any canned black-eyed peas, so we're making do with baked beans.) and sent me back to my room. I needed to lie down. Well, I'm sitting up using the computer, but I am in bed, so it's all good. And I had a beer, did I mention? That's good too.

Yesterday Superman and I went to my favorite thrift store source for furniture and bought a three piece living room set. There's a sofa, love seat, and rocker-recliner. The love seat reclines individually, too. It's pretty cool, really. Blue plaid with off-white background and some other neutral-ish colors in the plaid, neutral enough that I can't remember what they are. We've needed more furniture in the living room, but there's so much other junk in that room that there's not space for what we got. That's one reason I'm going through stuff today. It's time, and we need the space.

I'll tell you what we need. The front living room (parlor? sitting room?) that C is living in now. He was supposed to be out by the end of November, but alas, here he is. Superman has told the boy (young man, at 25 years old!!) that if he's  not out by the end of January his stuff is going to be on the curb. He needs to be out, and we need him out. I have grand plans for that room. I need it for my sewing/crafts/art. And office, perhaps. I'm not sure what all the room will hold, but I have lots of stuff to go in there.

And speaking of C, he's out of the hospital. He only stayed one night. He has psoriasis on his leg/ankle and the cracked skin allowed some infection to take hold. At the hospital he received IV antibiotics and got a prescription for an oral dose of something. Anyway, he feels much better now.

Back to my life, my house. One thing I've needed for a long time is ONE place for all of my sewing and crafts things. I have a little bit here, some there, a box or five stacked in there, etc. I feel as though I'd be able to work more efficiently on my creative things if it was all centrally located and organized. And I need to be creative. It feeds my soul.

So, about this soul of mine. Diva's aura sucks my soul dry. That may have something to do with why the box of pictures did me in. She was sitting in the room with me when I opened the box. She wasn't doing anything, it's not like she was trying to bother me. It's a gift with her, that ability to disrupt my groove. She has such a negative energy about her all the time. Or most of the time anyway. Today for sure. She walks in and anger fills the room. Anger, contempt, hatred. That's what she brings to the interaction. I try, I really do, to be as positive as possible. Some days it just doesn't work. She has been home for too long. You know she got suspended from school the last week before winter break. They go back next Monday. Oh, I'm so eager for her (and Sproing, too) to be out of my house all day, and at school where I know other people are watching out for them.

I can feel the tendrils of depression obscuring my outlook. I hope hope hope I feel better tomorrow.

Happy New Year

In which there is a quote and some rambling

Today's quote:
There comes a time in a man's life when to get where he has to -- if there are no doors or windows -- he walks through a wall. -Bernard Malamud, novelist and short-story writer (1914-1986) 

I read this and thought about the many guys who have told me that at some point the need to be true to their homosexual feelings overpowers their fears. This applies particularly to men who come out in midlife, though younger guys sometimes feel like that. So I've been told. And some have walked through walls to come out.

In other news, Christmas. I'm about ready for Christmas now. I've started my Christmas baking. I made an eggnog custard pie this afternoon, and baked my first ever fruitcake. It's my mother-in-law's recipe, and I love hers. Not sure if this one will measure up. Let me go taste-test it.

Meh, it's OK. Not as good as my mil's. A little bit dry. Superman likes it. The pie is fantastic, though.

Superman and I are watching "Despicable Me" on our new TV set*. We got a wall bracket with which to hang it this evening. Sproing crawled under the house today to move the cable from one wall to another so we can get a bunch of channels with nothing to watch on the new TV. It was Sproing's first time under the house. He claims it is his last. Silly boy didn't like it much. Superman has never liked it either. We are watching Despicable Me because 1) there isn't anything good on broadcast TV and 2) I want to see Despicable Me 2 so figured it'd be good to remind myself of the original first.

C was admitted to the hospital this evening. His left ankle is swollen and red, and after consulting with his mother over the phone (she's a nurse) he had us drop him off at the ER. He called us about an hour ago and said they were admitting him. Something about a possible infection in his leg/foot. And he has septicemia marks running up his leg. I guess I'll go see him in the morning, see if anyone knows any more.

A few days ago I took the space bar key off my keyboard and ever since it hasn't been as responsive. So my words are running together in type as well as in my head.

And speaking of running together in my head, my thoughts. They do that. I wonder once again if I should take medication for ADD. I get so befuddled when I try to do any work around here. There's this, oh and that, and wait, wasn't I doing something else? I need to remember to do the other thing before it gets too something. All at the same time.

*Does anyone call them TV sets anymore? A set of what? Not cathode ray tubes, that's for sure. An array of liquid crystal displays or something, maybe. No wait, this one is an LED. I don't know what LED stands for.

Oh boy

It's bad again, peoples. Bad, bad, bad. I'm losing it.

Many of you will recognize the question "Are you in danger of hurting yourself or others?" I was thiiiiis close on Friday.

This is what I feel like:

(This is a sculpture by artist Bruno Walpoth. His works are shown here.)

Cracked. And not ready to appear in public.

Of course it's the kids. Both of them angered me on Friday. Sproing missed the bus because he's an idiot. As soon as I got back from taking him to school, the school called about Diva. Shit. Diva's pants were in violation of the dress code, and would I please bring some appropriate pants. Shit.

I looked in her room for some pants. O.M.G. What a stinking mess. After poking around for about 10 minutes in the stink (she'd wet the bed and not washed the sheets, and I found other wet sheets bunched up in a laundry basket) I discovered her pile of dirty clothes (but not pee-soaked) and retrieved a pair of jeans. Took them to the school, but had to wait. I was so tired. And angry. Hadn't gotten to sleep until 4 that morning with the help of pain-reliever-PM, so getting up at 7:55 to deal with Sproing ... was unpleasant. I wanted to be home, take a shower, and go back to sleep.

But no, Diva's grade principal wanted to see me first, but she was in a meeting. Shit. (The school has one head principal and a handful of vice principals, each VP in charge of discipline for one category of students.) Well, lots of things happened in the waiting process. I didn't want to see Diva, but was escorted to the counselor's office in which she was waiting. And scowling. She's good at scowling. And was wearing tight, tight leggings, black with gold lame leopard spots. Hideous.

When Diva left the office to change her pants, this counselor (not Diva's regular guy) informed me that Diva has anger issues, is racist, and hates the fact that I am white because she (Diva) is black. Yeah, duh, this I've been suffering for years. YEARS!!! Then Diva's assigned counselor showed up so we moved to his office. Nice guy. Diva feels comfortable talking to him.

Then the vice principal came in. By then I had learned that the principal wanted me to take Diva home because of her behavior. Seems that when Diva was offered a change of pants from the school's clothes closet, she went ballistic. I can picture it. I've seen her do it thousands of times. Scream and yell and cuss at the adults trying to help her. Bitch. Oh, get this: the lady who offered her the clothes, a Mrs. R, has told Diva that she's a brat. My kids have dealt with Mrs. R before. Or rather, Mrs. R has dealt with my kids. Diva told us about the "brat" comment yesterday evening when Superman had his computer opened. (My computer hasn't been on since the day I wrote the previous post.) He looked up the definition of "brat" and lo and behold, it describes Diva (and Sproing) to a T. So I told Diva it's the truth. Diva has also been called a bitch (not by the adults, not in front of her anyway) and that's true, too.

I implored the administrators to keep her at school. By then I was a blubbering mess, eyes and nose leaking all over the place. Counselors kept shoving boxes of tissue at me. I said that she'd already been suspended for three days and it's so early in the school year. She was at school for one day, Thursday, before they wanted me to take her home. So they said if she could behave herself the rest of the day she could stay. Thank the gods in heaven and hell that she did. Stay at school, that is. Because by then I was a hot mess. I was shaking, crying, not able to think clearly about much of anything. I was honestly afraid of what might happen if I took her home. Really. I had a very strong urge to hurt her very badly. Either hurt her or harm myself. It could have gone either way.

This is actually a kind of progress, maybe. See, in the past I've always turned my anger and grief inward, always aimed to hurt myself. That I want to do serious bodily harm to this brat/bitch is, I think, a good sign. In context, anyway.

So Diva stayed at school and I went home, crying all the way. Took an Ativan (1 mg) as soon as I got home, then showered. After half an hour I still was wound up tighter than a watch spring, so I took another Ativan. By then my dear boy C was home, and he sat on the bed beside me and talked me down, so to speak. I had my bedside clock on my chest, waiting for 15 more minutes to see if I needed another pill. I didn't, thanks in part to C.

I was at the school for over an hour. The whole shebang, starting with Sproing, lasted a little over two hours. I finally went to sleep sometime after 11:00 and slept until Superman got home around 5:00. I had to cry on him for a while. He fed me some supper and I took another Ativan. I needed it. I sort of watched the Phillies beat the Braves (and anne marie cheers!) in a drugged stupor (me, not the Braves) before falling into a deep sleep once again. Sleep is best. It's the closest I can get to dead without actually dying. Not that I'd mind dying, but other people would be very upset. So I just sleep.

All day yesterday (Saturday) I felt pretty fragile. The brats were bratty, but I stayed in my room and Superman dealt with them. I tried not to take another Ativan because they are very addictive. Some of the stress and shakiness I felt when I woke up yesterday was an after effect of the drug. So I waited. By the end of the day I needed another one, but I didn't take it. Had some pain-reliever-PM instead and slept pretty well last night. Had a weird dream about an arsonist in New York City and a deaf girl, but that's beside the point. Probably. (Freud and Jung might have a different opinion, but I don't care.)

Superman took both the brats to the skating rink last night to get them THE HELL out of my house for a while. I was asleep when they returned. (Oh, I tried to watch the Braves vs. Phillies game last night, but was too anxious to watch baseball. Baseball, y'all. The second most boring (maybe third if you count curling) sport on television! (Golf being the most boring.))

Curling in funny pants. Like golf: boring and the players wear funny pants.

To continue: When Superman got the kids home, he had a talk with each of them individually. He told me about it this morning. He told them it was their fault that I was going nutty, and that he did not want to put his wife into a psychiatric hospital due to them being such horrid children. And that if he heard either of them saying anything disrespectful to me, he would hurt them. Pain, he said. They were suitably intimidated. But that was last night. Who knows what they'll be like today. 

Diva got up and went to church with a friend, and Sproing spent the night with a neighborhood friend, so he's not home now either. Superman pretty much kicked Sproing out last night, knowing he'd go to his friend's house. Good enough for me. It will be interesting to see how long it takes the boy to come home today. It's just past noon now. 

Superman called my therapist last night. She talked to me for a while, I told her what all happened and how I feel. Asked her about psych units around here. The hospital in town closed its psych ward a few years ago, though there's talk of opening it up again. My therapist likes the one in Greenville, she said. Not that it's time for me to go there yet. Probably. She also said she is going to talk to a lawyer friend of hers on Monday about getting these kids deemed incorrigible, and perhaps they will be removed from the home on that count. I have my doubts. It's very difficult to get rid of one's nasty children. We've been trying for years. I don't have the strength to look for an alternative placement for them right now. Too traumatized. 

Today's post has been brought to you by the word Traumatized. 

Convince yourself that everything is alright

For Nancy - Pete Yorn : Time Lapse Lettering from Bobby Roman on Vimeo.

'Cause it already is.

Nice message. Does it work? I dunno. Maybe.

I am preparing for a trip. I told you that last time, I believe. I made myself a new skirt and a dress or two. I say "or two" because the first one I made, well, the dress turned out OK before I "helped" it. I art-ed it up by painting it. It's made of plain unbleached muslin, so it was very plain and off white and boring. So I had some fun with craft paints. But the dress didn't fare so well. It looks like it was dragged through the mud. Doesn't matter much to me, really, because I made it with muslin as a test of the pattern. I'll use it as a house dress, just wear it at home when I'm hanging around doing home stuff.

Then I used the same pattern to make a dress with a blue and green checked seersucker cotton fabric. I'm wearing it right now. It works, it's comfortable, and it looks good (I think). So that's an overall win. I'm also going to use this pattern for some nice linen I bought a couple of years ago. That's the plan, anyway.

I have decided to try to do something creative every day. So far I've mostly sewed. I'd really like to get back into sculpture of some kind, but I'm working up to that. And there is a good bit of sewing I should do anyway. My wardrobe is... old. And worn. I have quite a few house dresses, or as I like to call them, rags. I rarely wear them when I go out anywhere. Most of them used to be fairly decent clothes but have been worn slap out. So I need some new stuff. So I sew. Diva and I went to the fabric store yesterday and I found (on sale!!) some pretty yellow fabric with a little flowery print. I bought the rest of the bolt (4 yards) and want to make a blouse from that, to match the skirt I plan to make from some yellow gauze stuff I have that looks like that picture up there.

Then there's the conestoga frame. I've used painter's drop cloth canvas to cover the conestoga in the past, but that stuff is very heavy. I'm not in good shape, folks. My muscles are weak and wimpy, so I need something a bit lighter and easier to manage. I made the roof portion of the cover last night. Now I need to set up the conestoga frame to determine how and where to attach the sides. I hope to do that this afternoon, but it looks like rain. I want Superman to help, also, because... well, because I want help.

We went to our favorite place, The Mill House, for brunch today. Today is the first day they've been opened on Sunday and have served brunch. As far as I'm concerned it was a smashing success. Mimosas, people. And savory crepes. And one of their specialties, Drunk shrimp and grits. The grits are actually polenta, and the shrimp are marinated in some kind of beer (I forget what) then they make a sauce with the marinade. It was extremely good. I had the curried chicken crepe which was even better than Superman's drunk shrimp and grits. After my mimosas (yes, two) I had a beer. So yeah, I'm feeling pretty good right now.

Today is C's birthday. He's 25. We were going to take him out for brunch for his birthday, but he had to work (he's a cook at Shoney's) until noon, but didn't get off until after 1:30. We were already at The Mill House, waiting for him to join us. Eventually we left, came home, and he was just getting out of the shower. So I told him we'd take him out for dinner, but he's going to spend the rest of the day with his friend Holly. Oh well, we'll take him out later this week. And I got to have a delicious boozy brunch with my Superman, so it's all good.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head. Since I have some sewing and other prep-for-my-trip work to do, think I'll post this, change into my house dress (or some shorts) and get to work.

Oh look! It's Thursday again.

OK y'all, about this dental floss. Incidentally, it was made in Ireland. How cool is that? Good for the Irish. Second and more irrationally, it has an expiration date. This is dental floss, folks. It "expires" in March of 2014. What happens then? Does it self destruct? If I still have this same floss by then, I'll be sure to forget to report on its activity come March of next year.

I was concerned about the texture of this stuff. I intended to get that ribbon-like floss, but got this thick yet spongy/fuzzy looking weird thing. Turns out it's OK. I works. I was afraid it would shred upon use, but the stuff is pretty sturdy.


Alrighty then, enough about dental hygiene.

What else do you want to know? Oh, exciting stuff! Superman and I are going to the Spo-stravaganza weekend! I made the reservations yesterday. It's a blog buddy meet-up. I'll see some of the fine folks I've met before, and meet a bunch of new people. And everyone will get to meet Superman for the first time. I think he's only ever met one of my friends who I met through blogging.

Which means we'll be leaving the kids at home for a long weekend. That should prove interesting. (translation: I'm scared) Twitch is living at home again, so he'll be here. His 22nd birthday is a week from today. So, another "adult" to watch over the crazy ones. C and his not-boyfriend-but-wishes-he-was are also in da house. Not that they do much with or for the kidlets. They're here in case of emergency, but do not provide any kind of guidance or reminders for the kids, and these young'uns need lots of guidance. Hopefully Twitch can do some of that.

We are looking into placement options for the Diva. She needs to get out of here, both for her sake and mine. A couple of weeks ago I was ready to drop kick her out of my life, but I've backed up on that resolve somewhat. Still uncertain. We both need a healthy break from each other. After having a couple of good conversations (I think they were. God only knows what Diva thinks) this week, I feel that there may be some hope for continuing this parent/child relationship. The whole thing has me tied in knots. I just don't know.

I do know, however, that I'm going out to lunch with Superman shortly. I should get dressed, huh? Yeah, I'll go do that now.

In which we discuss dragons and beatings among other things

"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." -- G.K. Chesterton

**

Never a dull moment around here. Unfortunately. Oh, for some of it I am grateful, but for some I'd like it to stop. Just stop. And go away. 


We'll start with Diva. Of course. The short story: Superman got both of the youngsters phones a few weeks ago. Sproing, it's a good idea for him to have a phone. Diva not so much. Not much at all. And I told him this, but he proceeded. She had the phone for maybe a week before she sent and received sexually explicit texts. She was exchanging texts with some guy I'd never heard of. On the advice of her former probation officer (she's off probation now, but this lady is a good resource) I called the police. That's the end of the short story, but I want to tell you more, so the next paragraph will be more and you can skip it if you'd like. 


The police officer saw the questionable photos (there was some video she'd taken of herself, too. Ick.) and wondered about the age of the young man who'd sent a way-too-complete picture of himself. All this took place on the kids' last day of school, last Wednesday. The officer took the phone and a copy of our rules for cell phone use* to the school to talk to Diva. Hee hee. It was "field day" at school, all the kids were outside or in the gym doing fun activities, etc. The officer (he told me later) went in and had a teacher call out Diva, and he and Diva had a little talk. When he brought the cell phone back he told me she was spitting mad. I suspected she would be. I had told him of her previous run-in with the law in which she assaulted me, so he warned her not to take this out on us physically. If he heard about her attacking me (or Superman) he'd come and haul her to jail. By the time she got home from school (about two hours later) she had calmed down to the point that she didn't want to interact with us at all, which was fine with me. She spent the afternoon in her room. Later that afternoon I heard back from the officer that the young man she'd been texting may be older than he looked. The next day a detective came by and we discussed that briefly. The stupid idiot may be an adult, if he's the one they suspect. The detective said that maybe nothing will come of it, as Diva and the old-enough-to-know-better SOB didn't actually hook up. I allowed as how I didn't necessarily want him to get in trouble, but a good scare would do him a world of good. One of Diva's messages to him asked if he was going to "come over and fuck me next week."  


So Diva no longer has her phone. She will not be getting it back any time within the foreseeable future. And I can foresee a pretty long way. 


Poor Superman. He wants for his daughter to be a normal, sweet, fun-loving girl. And he pretends she is, which is where trouble starts. I told him yesterday (after yet another major inconvenience but not-quite-disaster of her making) that he has got to stop pretending she is normal. It leads to trouble. Though yesterday's mishap was partly Superman's doing. He was treating her as a normal child and allowed her too much leeway. He tries so hard. Unfortunately she is NOT normal, and his attempts often go the wrong way. Sigh
Let's move on to other drama that has nothing to do with Diva. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both of my gay children, C and Light, are currently in relationships but it's complicated. Light has been engaged to her girlfriend for little over a year, I think, but now that Light is at school in Pennsylvania the relationship is long-distance. And the girlfriend isn't a good communicator under the best of circumstances. They recently dissolved their engagement, but are still together, sort of. You know, it's complicated. And my dear darling Light is hurting. This is hard on her. I wish I could make it better, but I can't. And this sort of experience is necessary for personal growth, so I must not try to fix anything. I just sympathize, and hurt for her pain. 


C has been involved in this pseudo-relationship thing for a few months now. There's this ... boy, really. He just turned 18 in December. C sort of fell in love with him. I told you about him before, called him The Youngster, I think. But The Youngster isn't in love with C, and has been up front about that all along. He likes C, but only as a friend. Well, until recently C and The Youngster had been hanging out together a lot for the past couple of months, but The Youngster went back to his mom's house to help her out. Since then his communications with C have gradually become less frequent and less ... intimate might be too strong a word. C senses that The Youngster is pulling back. I think (for what it's worth) that C has been too solicitous, done too many sweet loving sacrificial things for this kid. It's like he's trying to make The Youngster love him. That does NOT work! And it's a lesson C has to learn for himself. Yesterday was C's 24th birthday. He needs to make friends with people his own age. And The Youngster is from troubled circumstances with associated emotional difficulties, etc. As my therapist said, If they're broken when you pick them up, they are going to stay broken. (Or something like that.) The same applies to falling for drunks and abusers, which happens all the time. I want better for C. He needs to want better for himself. The Youngster is a nice kid. I like him. But he is not a good match for C. IMHO, he has a lot of growing up to do before he is ready for a serious relationship. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Light's had a rough time of it recently. Her cat got away. He was an inside-outside cat when he lived here, but has been exclusively inside since they moved to Pennsylvania last August. Last Monday Light took out the garbage and the cat snuck out. She didn't realize he was gone until he did not wake her up by sticking his nose in her face Tuesday morning. She's looked around the neighborhood, left food on the porch for him, made "lost" signs, etc. but so far he hasn't returned. She is sad. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I think I broke my toe Friday evening. I was walking through the dark house and stubbed my right pinkie toe on the leg of a chair. I hit it HARD! Yeah, it hurt. And it kept hurting. It hurt all night Friday. I took some ersatz Tylenol PM before bed Friday and slept pretty well despite the pain, but it hurt in my dreams, if you know what I mean. The damn thing hurt all day yesterday, too. It hurts to put weight on that side of my foot. The foot is swollen top and bottom, and the toe itself is fat and black and blue. I had Superman draw a circle around the bruise last night, and sure enough, the bruise has spread since then. I think bruises do that, though. Anyway, it hurt last night, too, and today it hurts, but not as much. Well, not as much if I don't try to move it. I have stayed off of it and kept it elevated all weekend. (translation: I've been lying around on my ass all weekend.) Didn't hurt too bad when I stood on it this morning at first, but after a little while it hurt more again, so I sat down. I watched the Braves beat the Nationals 3-2 this afternoon. That was fun. I've been putzing around on the computer all weekend, too. 


I'll probably try to get in to see the doctor tomorrow. There's nothing to be done for a broken pinkie toe anyway. They might buddy tape it to the next toe to try to keep it stationary. Of course I could do that myself, but right now I'm just lying on my lazy ass not moving anything anyway. I have a Netflix instant-view movie booted up to watch after my haircut which I'll get after I post this. 


Yeah, Superman is going to buzz my hair again with the 1" guard on his hair clippers. The hair has gotten long enough to hold in the heat. It's hot here in The South, so I'm going to shave my head. Well, shave plus 1". It looks pretty butch, but not terribly weird. 


Oh, in other gender-bending news, some junkie bum called me "sir" a couple of weeks ago. I went to Baltimore (again) to be with Indigo after his mother died. Had a good trip. It was helpful, productive, and the right thing to do. But I had a bit of trouble getting out of downtown Baltimore onto the freeway toward Washington, and drove in circles around the junkie bum areas for half an hour or so. Some guy wanted me to give him money, and called me "sir" when asking. I told him no, but got a kick out of his perception. 


OK, on to the haircutting. Ta ta for now (ttfn). 


*GROUND RULES FOR CELL PHONES

1.     Cell phone use is a privilege, not a right.  As such, it can be withheld under some circumstances.

2.     The phones belong to the parents.  We supplied them and we are paying for them. 

3.     The phones are to be used for reasonable communication only.  No explicit, harmful, or illegal use of the phone will be tolerated. That means do not talk or text anything that is sexual. Do not make threats to anyone by text or talk. Don’t use the phone to bully anyone. Don’t talk or text anything that is illegal. For example, don’t try to hook up with someone for sex, don’t talk or text about buying, selling, or taking drugs or alcohol.  If the phone is used to make such calls or send such messages, it will be taken and kept for a period of a few days up to several weeks.  Getting it back will depend on:

a.      How bad the message was;

b.     How many were sent;

c.     What kind of fallout there was from the message;

d.     Whether this was a first offense;

e.      How you behave while the phone is off-limits.

4.     The phones will be turned over to parents at bedtime each night.

5.     On school days, the phones will be available as soon as you arrive home each afternoon.  On the weekend and school vacations the phones will be available after 9:00 a.m.

6.     You will be expected to take the phone with you if you leave the house after coming home from school.  Being able to contact you at our convenience is a major consideration for getting the phones in the first place. Do not ignore calls from your parents! You must answer the phone when we call you!

7.     You will NOT allow other children to use your phone.  If a friend needs to get in touch with another person, and you decide that is all right, YOU will make the call for your friend.  Having you in control of the phone will make sure that someone else does not send inappropriate messages using your number.  Keep in mind that there are legal issues involved.

8.     Please also understand that T-Mobile keeps records of all text messages sent for a period of up to 90 days.  So if we want to find out what you texted, erasing it from the phone will not help to conceal it. So don’t bother to erase messages.

9.     DO NOT MISUSE YOUR PHONE!

We read through this with both kids and had each of them sign our copy, agreeing that they read and understand the rules. And Diva abuses the privilege the second week she had the phone. Oy. 

** If you haven't seen "How to Train Your Dragon" you must do so at your earliest convenience. 

Gay drama update

Things have been decided.

For those of you just joining us, the details are thus: C broke up with N, their apartment-mates, Youngster and Other Guy, also broke up. C and Youngster had developed a close friendship, or so Youngster understood. C fell in love. C moved back home, and Youngster came along. But Youngster was not fully done with Other Guy. Would Youngster go back to Other Guy? Would he fall in love with C?

It all came together yesterday. Youngster had spent the previous two nights "away," which I knew instinctively was back in Other Guy's bed. I think C was deluded into believing he was staying with another friend. The fool. I texted Youngster, he responded asking me to come on over 'cause he needed to talk. So of course I did. They (including N, who still lives there) explained the situation that I'd already figured out. I brought Youngster back here so he could tell C. C took it pretty well. He did most of his mourning over the past two days. There is some furniture-moving that needs to occur today, but it's mostly settled. And C seems in a much better frame of mind than he did yesterday.

I cleared up the question of C and Youngster's friendship. Other Guy says he doesn't care if they are still friends, that they can spend time together. I feared he would get jealous and defensive about it, but he says he's cool. I hope he means it.

I also found out how N is faring. He's doing pretty well. He seems to realize that he's better off without C. I think he feels a new freedom. He's also kinda seeing a guy, informally. He says it's not a love connection or anything, no "relationship." It sounds to me like a fuck buddy friendship. We shall see. This is new territory for N. I see him asserting himself more, exploring parts of his personality/identity that he repressed because of C. He said this new friend likes to take pictures of him dressed in drag. N loves to do drag, but C strongly discouraged him. The new friend thinks it's sexy. All in all everyone except C seems to be doing very well. Hopefully C will get his head out of his belly button and move on to figure out life.

And that's all I know.

Long-overdue update and some new gay drama

Still no "a" key on my keyboard. It's annoying, but whatcha' gonna do?

The illustr'us governor of the state of South Carolina has decided that to make this great state more appealing, all state government offices must answer their phones with the greeting "It's a great day in South Carolina." The non-voluntary nature of the dictum negates the sentiment, imho. But here's the thing: I call the evaluation center where Diva is incarcerated and hear "It's a great day in South Carolina. (Your daughter is in jail.)" It doesn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling about South Carolina.

We still don't know much. Diva will remain in the evaluation/detention center until her court date. This is a good development. Some kids go back home after being evaluated to wait for their court appearance. We have told everyone who might influence the decision that we feel she is a threat to the family and should be placed elsewhere for the time being. We won't know anything until she goes to court, and we don't have a specific date for that. I pretend that the uncertainty doesn't bother me.

She said she wants to come home. I asked her when visiting last Sunday if she wants to come home or just wants to leave there and go somewhere else. After a brief pause she decided she'd like to go to a foster home. I don't know if that's an option, but I got the info I was looking for. She doesn't really want to come home, per se.

In other news, C has moved back home again. Last Sunday he broke up with N. It was inevitable. They aren't right for each other. The other couple with whom they were sharing the apartment also broke up Sunday morning. The younger guy moved here with C. And here's where it gets more complicated in a gay drama drama drama way. C is crazy in love with this youngster (he's 17, C is 23), but the youngster hasn't committed to leaving the other guy. They are taking a break, and he may get back with Mr. Other Guy (who is also 23). Youngster considers C a good friend, like a brother. C is going crazy wanting Youngster to stay with him and "learn to love" him. It's crazy. Oh, and C started smoking again with all the recent stress. Pisses me off, but I can't demand he quit.

C isn't taking the stress well. Obviously. There are other unhealthy behaviors he's fallen into that I won't enumerate. He isn't comfortable being alone. For what it's worth, I think he needs to be unattached for a while to learn who he is apart from a lover. I haven't told him that yet. He isn't ready to hear it. Right now we're waiting for Youngster to make up his mind about Other Guy.

And of course C moved back into what had become Diva's bedroom. It was his before she got it; he moved out, she moved in. She's out (for now) and he's back in. Are you dizzy yet?

I am glad C is back home, though. I feel very comfortable with him here. And of course I feel very uncomfortable with Diva here.

I'll share some thoughts I have about our home. The home that Superman and I have made is a comfortable, safe place (if you disregard the mess). There are actually many young people who feel more welcome here than with their own families. Sproing recently befriended a boy in the neighborhood who really likes hanging out here, and sometimes refers to me as Mama. I give him great big Mama hugs. His mother currently lives in one of those very cold northern states while she works a temporary job. And C has a friend over this afternoon who continually tells me he loves me and Superman and likes being here.

Earlier this week I gave Sproing's friend a big Mama hug and Sproing said "you never give me hugs like that!" Yeah, well that's because you push me away and complain whenever I try to. He's an odd bird.

My point here (maybe) is that my children (at least those who are still minors) do not appreciate us as parents. Lots of other kids (young and old) do. Can I trade?

And now a silly question for those of you of a certain age who are familiar with 70s TV sitcoms: Have you ever tried Milk and Pepsi?

The story of my transformation from homophobe to homophile

I had this assignment for my ceramic sculpture class:

Students will write a 2-4 page (typed, double spaced) true narrative and then design a ceramic environment to illustrate the narrative. The narrative should be about an event or experience you witnessed.

So yeah, I have to depict the story in clay. Artistically. The most significant experience I've had in recent years is learning to embrace The Gay. Here is the story I submitted to my art professor this morning.

Until about five years ago I had my life mostly figured out. I was in my early 40s with four children, the youngest having recently started elementary school. After being a stay-at-home mom most of my adult life, I decided to pursue my dream of driving a truck and became a school bus driver. I finally had a job, was making a little bit of money, and my work schedule coincided with the children’s days off from school.

The other important element of my life aside from my family was the church. We were members of a conservative protestant denomination, and my husband and I were actively involved in various ministries within the church. Our church taught a strong Bible based theology, and there were very few points with which I disagreed. Being curious and intelligent, I had given a lot of thought to many social issues from the perspective of what I learned in church.

In the winter of 2006 I met a young man whose existence challenged my beliefs. C was a 17 year old high school senior who had lived with an inner conflict since early adolescence. He also was a faithful Christian but he was romantically attracted to guys, which the church says is wrong. He kept his same sex attraction a secret until age 17 when he realized that the conflict was not going to solve itself. As he began to accept his homosexuality he slowly shared his secret with close friends. My daughter Light was one of those friends.

Light introduced me to C in December. Although I had strong suspicions, I did not know for sure that he was gay until later in January. By then most everybody at school knew of his homosexuality, and many of those classmates also attended the church where he and his mother worshiped. He had not come out to his mother and was afraid she would find out through the grapevine. The child was full of angst typical of a high-strung teenager under stress. He needed to talk and I was willing to listen. I found him to be a charming, intelligent, sensitive young man who in no way fit the image of a homosexual that I’d learned from the church. I had a conundrum.

Not long after I started talking to C he found an opportunity to tell his mother that he is gay. She did not take it well. She and C’s step-father gave him 30 days to move out of their house. I was livid! I understand her attitude about homosexuality since I held a similar view, but I do not understand how she could banish her son from her home. Because it is in my nature and typical of what I do, I invited him to move in with us. I had grown to love C.

As I got to know and love him, I began to seriously question the church’s teaching about homosexuality. The church taught me that gays were cursed and homosexuality was a lifestyle choice. C’s story didn’t reflect that, and I did not believe that God could curse someone as wonderful as C. I had a lot of questions. It was time to research the issues.

I visited a lot of websites and read some dense books. Initially my curiosity focused on the cause of homosexuality and how and why the church condemned it. What does the Bible really say about homosexuality? Who interpreted it into what my church taught? How has the church’s position changed through history? My attitudes and beliefs changed fast. Within two weeks of beginning my research I realized that homosexuality is a normal, natural variation of sexual orientation, not a choice and not inherently wrong.

My research led to more questions about the nature of gay people. The only gay people I knew were C and his boyfriend, and I was well aware that these two crazy gay boys from Greenwood, South Carolina were not typical of gays everywhere. I went online to meet other gay men who were older and more mature than these two kids. There are a lot of gay men who have their own blogs and that’s where I met some wonderful, interesting people. Many of them have since become my good friends.

This is a good place to end this narrative, but there is more of the story that I want to tell, at least in this essay if not with a clay sculpture.

I questioned the teaching of my church. After careful consideration I determined that the church was wrong. If the church was wrong about that, what else is it wrong about? It’s a domino effect. One of the pillars on the foundation of my belief crumbled, causing the walls to crack. Other clichés happened, which are easy to sculpt but not particularly creative. I radically changed my beliefs over a period of approximately six months. Not only did the walls of my faith crack, but my nerves cracked. I ended up having a nervous breakdown in late April or early May, about two and a half months after Cory moved in with us. The search for meaningful expression of my spirituality continues to this day. I know a lot more than I did five years ago, but I am less sure of where I’m going or what I should do with my life.

So there you have it. And I have no idea how to put any of that into a sculpture.

Road Trip Log: the rest of the days

Total miles traveled: 3000, give or take a couple dozen. Really, it was quite close to 3000 miles. On the last day I messed up my trip odometer. I zeroed out the wrong one. The final day we drove 555 miles, and adding up what I did know to what I found out, I got 3003. If that doesn't make any sense, welcome to my life. With me most things are estimates. Let's just smile, nod, and say 3000 miles. Yes, it's time for another oil change.

Now where were we? I recently reported on days 7 and 8, so this will be days 9 and 10 of the trip, and the day or so of recovery. About the recovery, there was a lot of sleeping. I'm old and fat and out of shape. I can push myself for a while, but eventually I need to catch up on sleep. I slept a lot Saturday. We got home Thursday at 5:00 in the afternoon, right as Superman was coming home from work. Ah, it was so good to see him! He smells so husband-like, and feels warm and soft and fuzzy to hug. He's grown a beard and mustache since I started this road trip foolishness. He quit shaving when Sproing and I went to Florida, and has only shaved his neck and cheeks since then. He looks good with a beard and mustache, but his face fuzz is very coarse and it pokes me in the tender parts of my nose when we kiss. It's a challenge I'm willing to face.

Anyway, I mentioned Thursday and Saturday, but what about Friday? Wouldn't it make sense for me to rest on Friday? Yes, it would, but instead I did more driving. Light went to her college to participate in the graduate school graduation (as an usher-type person, not actually graduating). C had a chance to see his sweetheart in the Charlotte area. So I drove them to their respective rendezvous. Sproing went with, as he has been mommy-less for a long time. He and I had a fun lunch at Waffle House while C and Sweetie spent some time together. I was so tired, though! When we picked Light up later, she drove the rest of the way home and I napped in the backseat. Then Saturday I slept in late, got up for breakfast, caught up with my email (not been to most of the blogs yet, but I'm working on it), then took a very long nap. It wasn't all that late when I went to bed, either, and I slept until 9:30 this morning. I am beginning to feel better.

Wednesday, Day 9, was a really good day for me. C didn't enjoy it so much, but I don't care. We left Danvers and drove west on MA 114 for a while. We got on some interstate thing and tootled into New Hampshire. It was my first time in that state. We crossed into Vermont, my first time in that state, too. We drove local highways to Middlebury, then up US Hwy 7 to VT Hwy 17, and east to VT Hwy 116, where I turned around and went as far west on VT Hwy 17 as I could before leaving Vermont. I was particularly interested in that area because Superman is interested in that area. He is writing a story, a furry fan fic about a vixen named Wendy who lives in (an imaginary) large B&B just a couple of turns off of VT Hwy 17. So I checked out the area, took some pictures, and missed Superman like crazy. I wish he had been there! He knows the area geography very well, but has never been there himself. It's beautiful terrain, very rural, lots of hills and gorgeous vistas. C, who is a fool about some things, didn't appreciate it. He doesn't much care about the natural beauty of country roads or quaint seaside towns, and as such he's not a good photographer of these wondrous places. Greg thinks that C will wake up and get a clue about this in another 10 years. I hope so. For now, though, I don't have many good pictures of that sort of thing.

We ate at a quaint little restaurant/diner on the edge of western Vermont on Hwy 17. It is a few hundred feet from where the bridge across Lake Champlain used to be. There is no longer a bridge, but there is bridge building activity. Evidently the structural supports for the bridge were unsound, so they had to demolish the structure. There is now a ferry that transports travelers across the short span. The waterway is called Lake Champlain, but right there it looks more like a river to me. What do I know? I got to ride the ferry, and that was a lot of fun for me. C is a stick-in-the-mud. I got a picture of my fairy on the ferry. He was not amused. I was. Good for me!

I keep talking about all these pictures, but you haven't seen any yet. My plan is to post separate entries with the pictures. It's difficult to arrange pictures with text on the browser I use, ironically. I use Google Chrome to write my Google Blogger blog, but the photos don't want to go where I want them. So far I've downloaded most of the pictures, but the ones from the final two days are still in the camera. Soon, peeps, soon.

After crossing into New York on Wednesday afternoon, we hit the interstate and drove like mad women as far as we could. I had made reservations at a hotel in Chambersburg, PA. It looked like a good point from which to drive back to South Carolina in a day. We got to the hotel at 11:00 p.m., and left at 6:30 Thursday morning. Of all the places we stayed on our road trip, this was possibly the nicest. The Holid@y !nn in Taunton, MA was also very nice, but the hotel in Chambersburg was at least as nice, and much less expensive. It's also the place we spent the least amount of time. Whatevs. I would like to have stayed there all day Thursday and rested, but alas, I had told Light we'd try to get home before Friday so she could do the thing at school.

We drove hard Thursday. I was very tired. C took the wheel a couple of times. Driving conditions were good, he can drive pretty well, and I was dangerously tired. He drove, I snoozed. Then I drove and he snoozed. We traded places a couple more times, snoozing or driving, but not both at the same time. Every time we stopped for gas/food/bathroom breaks it was hotter and muggier than the stop before. We got off I-77 at the southernmost exit in Virginia. Wow. We were in The South (TM) again, by God! The heat and the hicks were thick as Grandma's peach cobbler. I wanted to turn around and run back north, but alas, t'was time to go home. There isn't much to report about Thursday. All I remember is being very, very tired and driving many, many miles. And I've already told you about arriving home to Superman, the best part of the day by far.

I can't think of anything else to report about this road trip. I'll start working on the picture posts now. Stay tuned.

Road Trip Log: Days 7 and 8

Total miles traveled: I have no idea

We stayed in the Danvers/Salem area all day Monday and Tuesday. Our first stop was Salem State College, where we took a guided tour of the campus. There were a dozen or so other students plus their parents. There were plenty of other people my age on the tour, but none of them was a prospective student. I was the only one interested in graduate school, also. The rest were high school students looking for a likely college, or first year college students looking to transfer. A perky little sophomore led us around and told us about college life. Yeah, it didn't apply to me. There was very little useful information for us on that tour, though we did discover where most of the classroom buildings are. For the information I need, I will email the program director of the graduate counseling psychology program and snoop around on the website. Eh. Did I need to come all the way to Salem, Massachusetts for this?

Yes, I did. Because the primary reason we are here is to get a feel for the area, the college being just a part of the greater whole. After our college tour we wandered into downtown Salem, Essex Street to be precise. It's at the heart of the tourist area. C was interested in the pagan shops, of which there are many. Salem is (in)famous for the witch trials of the late 17th century. I learned a bit of that history. It's pretty scary, not because of the alleged witches, but because of the people (mostly young girls) who were accusing people of being witches. The witch scare only lasted about nine months before the general wave of opinion moved on to some other superstitions or scandals or whatever. Nineteen people were killed for being witches before the ordeal was over. Many more were imprisoned, but they were released after the panic ended.

The thing about Salem, though, is that it's a coastal town, a harbor port, with rich nautical history that spans centuries. But what comes to mind for most people when they hear of Salem, Massachusetts? Witches. I learned that Salem was important in the whaling industry back in those days. There was also lots of overseas trade, the East India Company being active in the area. It's the witch thing that brings in the tourists and their dollars. Whatever.

The town is adorable. I'm especially interested in the architecture, no surprise there. The houses are cute, quaint, lovely, and many other pleasant adjectives. There are shops and stuff all over downtown. It's a town that's easy to walk in. One part of Essex Street is closed off to automobiles and is a pedestrian mall. There are historic places of interest all over the area. We saw the Peabody Essex Museum, but didn't go in. It was closed Monday, and we didn't take the time for it on Tuesday. Maybe another time.

The roads around here are very confusing. There isn't a unified grid of streets anywhere in this area, and one long stretch of road might have six or more different names along its length. Mass. Hwy 114 runs from Danvers through Salem, but takes a bunch of turns getting from one burg to the other. It's one of the big retail areas in Danvers. Wal-Mart is on Hwy 114. Through Danvers it's called Andover Street. The voice of the GPS thing C downloaded onto my BlackBerry sounds like she's saying "Bendover Street." So of course I'm calling it Bendover Street :) The city/state/whomever is working on Bendover Street through Danvers, and currently has the top couple of layers of asphalt chewed off. This leaves the manhole risers (get your mind out of the gutter!) raised above the level of the road, causing driving to be treacherous. C says it reminds him of a video game, having to avoid the obstacles while moving down the road. Since he said that, I've been using the road that way. Makes it fun to drive on Bendover Street and play the real life version of a video game! This is the greater Boston area, so of course people around here are used to other cars weaving in and out of lanes of traffic. I tell ya', I'm having a blast driving around here!

On the other hand, I'm getting frustratingly befuddled. It's one thing to go on a little adventure in search of my destination. It's another thing to have no fucking idea where I am or where I have been or where my destination is from there. Trying to find a restaurant the other night I got SO annoyed. Poor C has been annoyed for days. So on Sunday (I think it was) he downloaded the Verizon Navigator program. She has been most helpful, both for me and for C. He's much less stressed than he was. I have named the voice of direction (C would say "the voice of reason") Cartesia, in honor of the Cartesian Coordinate system developed by Rene Descartes. Superman things this is appropriate. Cartesia and I are trying to build a good working relationship. I'm a stubborn old bird, so admitting that I need navigational assistance is a hard step for me.

Speaking of steps, we have been walking a lot! Starting on Sunday in Boston with RG, and continuing for the past two days, I've been on my feet an awful lot. I'm a bit sore at the end of the day, but I haven't been achy any more than usual when I get up in the morning. This afternoon C and I went to the indoor pool here at the hotel (swanky, huh?) and I floated for an hour or so. He swam. I was relaxed.

I'm down to three bandanas and a handkerchief for clean clothes. Had to dig in the dirty clothes pile to find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear to supper tonight. The hotel has a small laundry area with coin operated machines. Quaint, huh? At least it's in the hotel, not at some questionable location down some dark alley. Our clothes are in the dryer, probably ready to be removed. I'm off to do that momentarily.

Tomorrow (Wednesday) we leave Massachusetts. We'll drive up through New Hampshire and Vermont, just to see the pretty, then head down through New York into Pennsylvania again. We'll stay overnight in southern Pennsylvania (NOT in Schenectady!) I plan to push on all the way home to South Carolina on Thursday. That's two days of very heavy driving ahead of us, and I'm not sure how much blogging I'll do until after I get home and rest up a bit. So TTFN, and don't do anything I wouldn't do. Or something like it.

Road Trip Log: Day 4

Total miles so far: _____(I'll let you know, assuming I remember to check in the morning.)

Location: Taunton, Massachusetts

Warning: drunk blogging ahead

C and I brought a bottle of Shiraz with us, just for fun. Tonight we got into it, plus the bottle we bought at the grocery/liquor store down the street. Here's the funny part: we went to the liquor store to buy a cork screw, having forgotten to bring one. We decided to buy another bottle of wine, just because. We picked a wine, found a corkscrew, paid the nice man wearing a Boston Red Socks t-shirt, and came back to the hotel. When we arrived at the hotel we discovered that the bottle we brought with us had a screw top. The bottle we bought tonight had a pseudo-cork, so we needed a corkscrew for that, but we would have been fine and dandy had we not stopped at the liquor store at all. Oh, and when Superman reads this, he should forget this particular paragraph since he's worried about the money I'm spending on the trip. I'll tell you, though, that it was a cheap bottle of Barefoot Shiraz. We're comparing Tall Horse Shiraz to Barefoot Shiraz. Barefoot wins, IMHO.

We (and by "we" I mean "I") are doing laundry tonight. C is talking to his boyfriend. Have I figured out what to call the sweetie yet? It appears I have not. Anyway, the load of laundry is in the dryer on its second go-round. We lucked out. Our room is on the same level as the laundry facilities in the hotel.

Traveling with someone is a good way to get to know a lot about him/her. C and I are very close, but let me tell you, we're learning more about each other. He is having a bit of trouble with my adventurous spirit. I understand that some people can't deal well with the thought of not knowing exactly what the plan is for tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, or perhaps three days out. Only this morning did I make arrangements for our lodging tomorrow night. I was getting a slight bit concerned about it. Poor C was in a tizzy.

Here's my philosophy: life throws unexpected turns. One can not count on one's plans working out every time. It's good to know how to go with the flow, or to fly by the seat of one's pants, or pick your favorite cliche. This is a growth experience for C. When I told him that, he called bullshit on me. Eh, whatever.

Tomorrow's plan has us on Cape Cod, in the elbow region of the peninsula, to visit The Midnight Gardner. I am quite excited about that. He and I got to know each other via blog and email two summers ago, and I have wanted to meet him since then.

I'm so excited to be in Massachusetts. So far, it has lived up to my expectations and more. Reflecting on yesterday, I must say that Schenectady, NY was something of a disappointment. It looks like it was a fine city at one time, long in the past. It's very run down with a distressingly seedy ambiance. Especially the hotel we stayed at. O.M.G. Once I post the pictures... I think I mentioned that in my last post. A-fucking-mazing.

Speaking of pictures, I must tell you about C as a photographer. Remember when I mentioned that he has a vision impairment? Yeah, well, that's not a good attribute for a photographer, either. He does pretty well, all things considered. Kinda. As we have traversed the rolling hills and mountainous areas of the eastern seaboard and New England, I have had to tell him "Hey, this is pretty. Take a picture, dammit." He says that all these beautiful vistas and valley views look a lot alike. Well, after looking at the pictures, I can't come up with a good argument. They do. But all of them are so pretty!!

I have a good feeling about Massachusetts. New York made me a slight bit uneasy, but so far I like what Massachusetts has to offer. I wonder how much of that is preconceived notion...

My, but it's gotten late! Tomorrow is an early day, so I'll leave you now. There is so much more I have to share with you, but it shall have to wait for another time.