Wendryn Doubt

Everything seems to be settling down a little. We have a new car and it will be registered this week. Nyx still looks a bit like a mad scientist’s experiment, but she is healing up nicely. Xander is done with the semester. All of these combined provide a brief lull before the pace picks up again.

If everything goes well, Katja’s adoption will finalize sometime in June. We don’t have a date yet, but at least this process will be completed soon.

We went out to dinner tonight with a dear friend. Katja was tired and not quite her usual outgoing self, but I’m glad they got to meet each other.

We had our annual BBQ last weekend. It went very well. I’m not an extravert, but for that particular event, a lot of people make me happy. I got unexpected flowers for Mother’s Day, which was quite sweet.

My brain goes faster than my fingers when I’m typing on my phone, so I think I’ll sign off. I hope you have a great week!

I skipped Tuesday Tidbits this week because I was exhausted.

Two weeks ago we took Nyx into the vet to have a lump removed. The lump was cancerous. They got it all out, so, with any luck, she’ll still be around for a good while longer, but it was hard for me. My last dog died two weeks after being diagnosed, and some part of me still thinks of cancer that way, as a quick and painful death sentence. Nyx came through the surgery fine. She’ll have her stitches out at the end of the week, and as far as she’s concerned, life is good.

Last Thursday, I totaled our car. We had a Toyota Corolla. We had been talking about getting a second car at the end of the summer, a little car that would just be for commuting. Now we’re going to end up with a bigger car so we can go on road trips with Nyx and Katja and everyone will actually be comfortable. The accident wasn’t bad, as accidents go, but I ended up bruised and a bit freaked out about turning left. I’ll get over it. The insurance company, Country Insurance, was great. Very helpful, kind, and got everything done fast, as evidenced by the fact that we’ll be buying a car on Saturday, just over a week after the accident. This may sound silly, but my ego was bruised, too. I think of myself as a good driver, but in that moment, I missed something that I should have seen. No one else was in the car and the driver of the other car was fine, so the only damage was to the cars. People are more important than things, I know, but I wish I could have avoided breaking this thing.

It’s allergy season. I’m allergic to everything that grows in Nevada. This is not my best time of year.

What do you write about when most of what you’re thinking isn’t meant for public consumption? There are things about the adoption process that I’d love to discuss, but I won’t touch them until the adoption is finalized. I don’t talk about work here. It’s not professional. Katja has her own space, so I write there, about her and to her. There are a lot of things that I’d love to write, but at this particular moment I can’t, for various reasons.

I found it interesting that one of the witnesses to the accident said “Thank god you are all right!” and I immediately thought “Nah, thank the seat belt.” Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I would have felt thankful to some higher being. Now I am glad of the ingenuity of humans who figure out how to make us all safer. I am glad that we have a daughter who has the Elephant’s Child problem: she is insatiably curious. I hope she always is, because out of curiosity can come amazing things.

As one more somewhat random tangent, we have been talking about how to handle the winter holiday now that we have a child. We have decided to base our holiday on Hanukkah, at least to the extent that it will be a multiple day event. I suppose it could be based on the twelve days of Christmas, too, though I don’t think we’d do twelve days. In any case, each family member will get to open presents one night, so we each get a special night, almost like an extra birthday. One night, perhaps the last night, we’ll volunteer to help somewhere where there are people much more in need than we are. That will depend on where we end up, but it’s an important piece to offset the greed that I see more and more when Christmas rolls around. Have you noticed the commercials that try to make you feel like you are just not a good parent if you don’t get the latest and greatest toy? That does not work for me. It makes me angry. I want gifts to be carefully selected to reflect the recipient, not to just be whatever is cool that year. There are a few days unaccounted for, but I’m sure we will figure them out as time goes on. We’ve been making a goose every year and inviting people we care about to share it with us; perhaps that will be a night in this celebration, too. There will be no god of any sort, just an appreciation of loved ones and an awareness of the need to not only do good things for people we love but also for people we don’t know who need help.

I will write Tuesday Tidbits next week after the bruises have healed and I am somewhat more coherent. I felt the need to write tonight, but this is much more stream of consciousness than my usual approach. I hope it has at least not been boring.

A lot has gone on this past week. I think I’ll stick to the unabashedly good to start with.

Katja has started eating solid food! We’re doing something called Baby Led Weaning, which means that she is eating what we are, or at least trying it. I find the whole process quite amusing. She makes funny faces when she tries something new. She hasn’t really loved anything yet, though I didn’t really expect her to. She does, however, like applesauce and Cream of Wheat for one reason – they are extremely messy! SHe took great joy in spreading them all over her face, arms, and the tray of her high chair. We took a shower when she was done. I’m not sure she actually ate any of it. Nyx thinks this is a wonderful change, because when Katja is done, Nyx gets to clean up. Even if I veto that, Katja rather likes throwing things, so the dog gets a lot of extra treats.

Nyx had a tumor removed last week. They did get all of it, which is good. I’m hoping that’s the end of the cancer story where Nyx is concerned, but we’ll have to keep a closer eye on her from here on out. Whenever the words “dog” and “cancer” are in the same sentence, I worry, because Ace seemed healthy, limped a little, and then we had two weeks before he had to be put down. Nyx is only four, very healthy, and I’m hoping everything goes smoothly. I do wish, however, that she would stop licking at the t-shirt she’s wearing. It’s not bad during the day, but at night it’s incredibly annoying and keeps us awake. She may have to wear the Cone of Shame tonight so we can get some sleep.

The weather here has been gorgeous lately. I spent much of the weekend working on the yard, bringing some order to a lot of chaos. It was very satisfying.

It has been a good week. I got some yard work done over the weekend. Not as much as I’d like, but Katja got fussy so we went inside. She’ll get better at being outside as the weather improves. We made a three bean salad for lunches this week, reminding me how happy I am with simple foods.

We don’t eat very much meat. We aren’t averse to it, but it is expensive and seems to make a very heavy meal. We probably average three or four meals a month with meat unless it goes into lunches for a week, in which case it’s a bit more. I don’t miss it, mostly. I didn’t grow up on a meat-heavy diet, and neither of us wants to raise Katja with huge amounts of meat, either. It’s unnecessary. She will get to eat a huge range of foods, but finding interesting things to do with a variety of foods is part of what makes cooking fun.

She’ll be starting solids in the next week or so. That should be fun!

When the fog comes in off the water, it makes me think of where I grew up.

We got a lot of sun growing up. During the summer we’d walk to the park to swim practice. I’d take off my shoes and walk barefoot, dancing on the hot pavement to keep from burning my feet. Summer also brought warm rains and we’d go out and splash in the puddles, glorying in the water pounding down from the sky. We’d come back inside, shivering, and our mom would make us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Everything grew there and the dirt was good earth, black and crumbly between my fingers.

The fog, though, was my favorite. We lived near a freeway, so there was always noise. On a foggy morning, I’d wake up to the noise muffled or even silent. I would lie in bed, holding myself still, willing the relative silence to continue. Eventually a car would drive by and I would get up to look at how closely the fog had encroached.

Some days it was just a little foggy, enough to mask the Mormon temple on the hill. As the sun burned off the fog, the temple would reflect the light first. For a long time I thought that temple was a spaceship, and I think, perhaps, that watching the sun catch the tallest spire when the rest of the valley was still swathed in grey may have had something to do with that idea.

Once in a while the fog would engulf my small world. I could barely see the houses across the street. The looming trees above them were mere hints, slightly darker shadows. The world was truly quiet then, or at least as quiet as I, a city girl, had ever experienced. The sky felt low, oppressive, overpowering, and I often wondered if the top story of the house would still be there if I went upstairs. I loved the muted world. I opened the window to feel the air, heavy with water, come in, and I could feel it flow down to my feet. If I left my hand outside long enough, beads would form, beautiful, but not reflecting anything because no light was bright enough to pierce the fog and pull colors from the droplets.

The rest of the house woke up eventually, the sun burned off the fog, and the sounds of normal life resumed. All that day, though, I would remember the heavy blanket that covered my world and muffled it for a little while.

–

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Kameko Murakami challenged me with “When the fog comes in off the water, it makes me…” and I challenged littlewonder2 with “Winston Churchill versus the mummy. Use as many actual Winston Churchill quotes as possible in your piece.”

She was sitting at the bar looking tired and lost. She was also quite attractive, though he was sure she didn’t feel particularly interesting right then. He knew he could change that, at least. He was good at that. Everyone seemed to think of him as a harmless old widow, but a surprising number ended up in bed with him. He smiled, remembering a few of his more interesting companions.

The stool next to her was empty. He walked up to the bar a few seats away and began chatting with the bartender. He was here often enough that they conversed easily. The bartender was a young, handsome man who seemed amused by the considerably older man’s ability to coax women to bed. Both of them had standards; neither would sleep with a married woman or even one just involved with someone else. They weren’t willing to hurt anyone, and, in a world of rakes and rogues, that gave them a place to begin a friendship.

After a few minutes of light banter, the older gentleman looked over at the woman. “Hello, my dear. Would you mind if I sat next to you? I’m rather short on company tonight and you look like you could use someone to talk to.”

She blinked up at him, surprised and a little wary. Her expression softened as she took in his appearance. He was at least seventy years old, quite dapper, and he had a kind face with many laugh lines. He looked comforting and comfortable. She did not enjoy people hitting on her, but he seemed genuinely interested in her company, not just her cleavage. 

“Sure, why not.” She smiled.

“You should do that more often. It brings out the green of your eyes when they catch the light. May I buy you a drink, since I’m taking up your time?”

“Um, sure, I guess. I’ll have a gin and tonic.” She sounded slightly wary now, suddenly not as sure as she had been that his intentions were honorable.

Over the next two hours, she changed her opinion again. He really was a sweet old man. His wife had been dead for about ten years, but when he talked about her there was still joy and love in his voice and his face. They had been together for almost forty years, had three children, and had traveled extensively. She, in turn, told him about her breakup six months ago. She had not been happy, really, but she hadn’t expected him to cheat on her, either, and she was still recovering from that blow to her ego. She was a nurse and loved her work. Some days, like today, she was exhausted by the end of her shift. She worked hard and did well, but it was a difficult profession, especially since she did not have family or really close friends in the area. She had moved here five months ago, determined to start over and make a better life for herself, but it was not moving very quickly. She listened avidly to his travel stories and wished she could visit some of the exotic places he described. He did not ply her with drinks, but he paid whenever she asked for another. Near the end of the evening she switched to fruit juice so she could sober up and get home safely.

He walked her to the door of the bar and told her how much he had enjoyed the evening. She found herself thinking about how nice it would be to see him again.

Over the next two weeks, they saw each other three more times, always at the bar. After the third time, as their discussions carried on until closing, she impulsively asked if he would like to come over to continue talking. She did not have to work in the morning and the idea of going home to her empty apartment was suddenly too dreary to contemplate. He agreed and followed her home.

She made hot chocolate and put together a plate of crackers, cheese, and cookies. He appreciated everything and was, as always, quite courtly. She enjoyed his company, his sometimes wicked sense of humor, and his intelligence, and she felt more comfortable around him than around any man she could think of. She told him all of this when she was tipsy enough to blurt out her innermost thoughts, then blushed furiously and muster that he could just ignore that.

He gathered her into his arms and hugged her. “I take that as a high compliment, my dear. Please don’t be embarrassed.”

She leaned into him, smelling a whiff of pipe smoke and brandy. She snuggled closer as he began to rub her back. Non-sexually, she told herself, but it felt very good. It kept getting better, too. He took his time, making sure she was relaxed and happy. She looked up at him to ask if he was comfortable and found herself kissing him instead. This was not a bad thing, she decided, enjoying the kiss.

Events continued to unfold at a relaxed pace, both of them enjoying sensations and feeling relaxed and happy. At one point she stopped and said, “I’m sorry to ask this, but, well, can you get it up? I know older men sometimes have a problem.”

“Oh, no, my dear. I took my pill; I’m sure we can figure out how to get my rocket to stand up straight enough to give it a good polish.”

She laughed out loud and settled back into his arms.

They spent the night together.

The next morning, as courtly as ever, he made a simple breakfast, ate with her, and then took his leave. They agreed to meet at the bar the next week. They discussed the previous night, agreed that it was enjoyable for both parties, and agreed that neither was looking for a relationship. They parted as friends, both happier for the dalliance.

–
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Brad MacDonald challenged me with “‘I polish the rockets and swallow those pills.’-Monster Magnet” and I challenged Allyson with “‘All our kids are screaming but the ghosts aren’t real’ U2, Get On your Boots”

This week for lunches, I made this recipe to go inside these. I used to not like lentils, but summer tomato lentils are now one of my favorite recipes. I think that my dislike of lentils probably comes from not having them in anything other than lentil soup, where the lentils were a little grainy and the soup was too salty because of the ham. It just never did much for me. If lentils are cooked without salt, though, they don’t end up grainy, and the lentils themselves are not salty. I could quite happily have just eaten this recipe early on, when it’s just cooked lentils, goat cheese, lemon zest, and lemon juice, but every new ingredient that got added just kept making it better. It’s really very good, if you hadn’t figured that out.

Katja is an amazing little person. She is cheerful all the time except when she’s tired or hungry. She loves music and waves her arms energetically whenever she hears something she likes. She laughs a lot when I sing to her and she seems to really enjoy patter singing, which makes me laugh. I like watching her figure out new things. She and Nyx are starting to have a relationship of sorts; Katja laughs whenever Nyx licks her, and Nyx seems quite happy to say hello by licking Katja’s face. I’m sure they will get along even better when Katja starts on solid food and becomes a provider of random munchies for Nyx.

I’m back to walking more at lunch. We also walk on Saturdays as long as the weather is nice. It’s not consistently nice yet, but it’s getting there.

We went to several baseball games last week. Katja can get bundled up and zipped inside my coat. We were the warmest people in the park the night it started snowing. We also went to one that had beautiful weather. I think she enjoyed that one more. She has started recognizing people at the ballpark and smiling at them. She’s a very outgoing little person!

Life is pretty good right now. A wonderful husband, a little girl whose smile makes my life infinitely better, and excellent food all help remind me that life is worth getting up for in the mornings.

The idea of the social contract is that people have an agreement to form a society and be governed by the laws of that society. Another piece of this, though, is that people within the society agree to certain things between themselves. One of these things is how to deal with areas in which we have little or no expertise. Lawyers, doctors, scientists, or any profession which requires a high degree of study and specific knowledge fall into this category. We give them money and they provide us with the benefit of their knowledge.

That’s how it is supposed to work, anyway.

There are people, despicable people, who decide that their job is not to fulfill their side of the social contract. They decide that their job is to get as much money as possible out of those poor schmoes stupid enough to come to them, generally more than those people can afford, just because those people are desperate.

This one took everything. We had a contract, but he decided that he would charge us for a whole lot of little things that weren’t specified. They weren’t specifically excluded, either, though, so when I went to another one of his profession to ask, I was told that it was legal. Not ethical, but legal.

We needed him, my wife and I. We needed his help and he cleaned us out, took our money to the bank, strung us along, and eventually said he couldn’t help us. He’d listed a bunch of possibilities to start with, but when it came down to actually doing something, he never did. I’d lay bets he laughed all the way to the bank. He took another pair of suckers, convinced us he was a good guy, that he knew what he was doing, and then he took our hope and smashed it.

My wife is dead now. She killed herself when the last little bit of hope was extinguished. We had a future, even with this last hope gone, but she could not live without some hope in that arena. Maybe she wasn’t imaginative enough. I don’t know. All I know is that this person left us with nothing to try again, no way of making it better. We were bankrupt by the time he was done with us and we had nothing to show for it. Our savings, our house, everything, was gone, all in pursuit of the false hope he was selling.

I’m writing this letter because it’s time to make sure that he doesn’t take anything from anyone else ever again. I’m sure he has hurt people before, and if I don’t do something, he’ll hurt others. Maybe this makes me despicable, too, but I have nothing to lose. He goes down, then I do, and it’s over. No one will miss me, I think. No family anymore, nothing left to hand out. The only thing I will leave is the lack of a person who takes advantage of people like us.

I used to be a sniper. I can be one again. This man, this awful creature, this poor excuse for a human being, took everything from me. I’m just returning the favor.

—

You should really check out Michael’s piece this week – he did an amazing job with the prompt I gave him.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Bran macFeabhail challenged me with “Write about something despicable. ” and I challenged Michael with “You’ve been keeping a bottle of champagne for five years, waiting to celebrate something specific. Tell the story leading up to finally getting to drink the champagne.”

I took Katja to her first baseball game tonight, an exhibition game between our local AAA team and the university team. It was fun. The AAA team was not at its full complement, which meant they missed some pretty basic plays, and the university team was having a very good night. Katja seemed to enjoy it, especially when the dancers came out. She resisted sleeping. I had to bundle her up, since it was a bit chilly, but it we had a good time. We’re going to get Katja some kind of baseball gear as soon as the official season starts.

I don’t feel like there’s much to write about. There’s a fair amount going on, but nothing really newsworthy. The rest of this week will be busy, since we’re going to several baseball games (well, depending on weather), but there isn’t any big news. We’re still in a holding pattern regarding the adoption, but it’s moving. Work is work, a steady paycheck. I have a little down time on Sunday, which I’m looking forward to, but other than that everything is just normal. I rather like not having anything particularly exciting going on, though it does limit my writing a bit. I’m carefully not looking for anything to complain about; I don’t need that in my life right now. It isn’t always easy, but I think it’s an important habit to foster.

Life’s good here. I hope yours is, too.

“Which one of you did it? Which one of you started this war?”

The boys cowered in the corner, clearly terrified of the hulking man bellowing at them. None of them answered; one whimpered.

“Fess up, you lot, or it’s the dogs for you!”

A low growl came from the shadowed back of the room. One of the boys began babbling.

“It was all of us! I mean, we didn’t mean to. We didn’t want any of this to happen. We were just pushing buttons! Who would be stupid enough to leave a real missile silo unguarded? We thought it was a mock-up or something! It was just a place Hank found, a tunnel, and we went in to explore. You aren’t supposed to leave dangerous things out like this! We’re teenagers. We were just screwing around. We were doing what teenagers do, and we didn’t know it would hurt anybody. Honest.” He abruptly stopped talking and leaned his head on the wall. After a few moments, he added, “We didn’t know anyone would die.”

The large military man sighed. The dog came from the back of the room and sat next to him, a large, hulking beast, a perfect match for the man. The four boys, seeing the dog, sat up a little straighter. The reality was less terrifying than any imagined creature.

“You have loosed the dogs of war. You have killed off at least a third of the world’s population in one day, and another quarter, at least, will die from what comes afterwards. You have no idea of the number of lives you cut short because you were stupid children who wanted to push buttons. If I had my choice, I would feed you to my dog, but I doubt that would be accepted any more readily than your actions. That many people dead is a statistic. If I kill you four, however much you deserve it, people will hate me. You are four faces, four young, stupid, faces, on which their hopes and dreams can be pinned.” He sighed again. “You are going to spend the rest of your lives atoning for this mess. It was a stupid act that changed the world, and you are going to do your damnedest to make it better.”

The boys just stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Here’s the deal. I will not tell anyone what you did. At this point, they’re blaming anyone and everyone in power. No one will know it was you. Trust me on this; you never want them to know. Everyone lost someone dear to them. Most people lost more than one. If they knew, they would tear you limb from limb, and I am not exaggerating. Do you understand?”

The boys nodded in unison. The one who had been babbling said, quietly, “Yes, sir.”

That was the end, and the beginning.

–

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Grace O’Malley challenged me with “Fess up, you lot–or it’s the dogs for you!” and I challenged Mediocre Wayne with “Flying in the dark, completely comfortable.”