Hello, Again

It's been too long. When I start to open up and talk to people, I communicate less through writing. I suppose that I miss it - the writing that is, but not really. What I miss is being around people. I miss You, and You, and You. What I miss are familiar faces, familiar voices, familiar places.

Seeing The Kids this weekend was great. We laughed and cried as both are inevitable. I finally saw Dogface's house. (We will refer to C's girlfriend with this name from now on.) It's a nice house, and I was happy to see that The Kids weren't chained up in human-sized cages. I had this image that C just threw in a chunk of his grilled meat each night.

The Girls - Abby and Maggie - looked sad. Abby is visably sick and needs to see a vet. They don't smell the same. My sister mentioned this to me beforehand.

Peter looked taller, thinner. Amy lost weight. Both hold a sadness that I can't touch, that's entirely different than mine. I don't want to try to explain it. It's too much.

As for the holiday, well, it had it's moments of great fun. As I mentioned seeing my brother and sister was great. Seeing my cousins and my aunt and uncle was also fantastic. Then there is Dan's family who always do their best to make me feel at home. After five years together, I'm getting close.

My aunt, uncle and cousins brought me a Chloe handbag for my 30th birthday. It's stunning. On Thanksgiving Day a client appeared in a page 1 New York Times story. I spent a good amount of time with Stace. I had a wonderful dinner on Wednesday night at a restaurant in Somers - Luce. Dan's mom's pecan pie is just so delicious.

With the ebb and flow of life, great fun usually comes along with even greater heartache. I realize that no matter what I do, no matter how good my intentions are, there is always someone I am going to piss off and/or disappoint. I'm tired of not winning. I'm tired of these broken relationships. I'm tired of losing a piece just as I put myself back together again.

To no one's surprise, I spent a lot of time crying about my mom the last few days. When I was little we used to play the game at recess where we would close our eyes and envision a tropical beach and sunny weather in order to stand the cold. I tried doing a similar thing with our Thanksgiving meal. If I only imagined my mother's cooking, my next spoonful wouldn't taste like Dan's aunt's cooking (which is excellent, to boot), but my mother's much preferred food. The imagination can only stretch so far.

I suppose there is a lot of gossip to get in to. There's more for the hot list. There are so many movies that I've seen to discuss. But maybe tomorrow I will have the energy. Signing off.