Making The Best Of It

While the entire weekend was a roller-coaster ride of family time (because when this family is in crisis, we stick like fucking glue, yeah?) and the utter chaos only an out of control teen can invoke. By Sunday night, I was not only exhausted, and not only in a great deal of pain (back spasms, yippee) but I discovered that my muscle relaxants (OTC) had been stolen, too. I melted down. What kind of kid steals his mother's pain medication? Oh...right. The kind that medicates to deal with an out of control anger problem. Right. Gotcha.

Anyway...

I wandered into the kitchen at around 1:30 a.m. to get a glass of water, only to discover that there was a huge pile of meat on the counter, waiting to be separated into freezer bags. I almost cried, but I got it done with the exception of one roast that I tossed in the fridge to finish divvying up tomorrow. I gripped the counter with white knuckles for a while when my back spasmed. When I finally felt like I could move without crying, and maybe sleep without my heart pounding right the fuck out of my chest, I crawled in to bed only to discover teh Spousal Unit snoring like a fucking chain saw and the kitties playing kitty hockey and kitty tag under the bed. Hardwood floors turn pitter patter into thumpety thump.

I didn't sleep much.

I rolled out of bed at 8:05 a.m. when the dog went completely ballistic over gods know what, and made a pot of coffee. I recorded the first half of the podcast. I drank more coffee. I went to get a hair cut (short! Think Jamie-Lee Curtis with a bit more length on top) and after getting all coiffed, and getting a bite to eat, I found myself feeling quite spry in the back area. I walked home - about a mile and a half - in the sunny, Spring weather. Made an iced-coffee. Recorded the second half of the podcast, and had another iced-coffee. (I'm still a little wired!)

Then I divvy'd up the roast. Got two roasts, one bag of stew beef and another bag of fajita strips out of it. For twenty bucks. Go me!

While I was divvying up the roast, the Elder Kidlet (source of recent ARRGH) asked if I needed help with making dinner. At first, I braced myself. I wanted to say no. I wanted to say 'get the fuck out of my kitchen'. See, he called me the c-word, and his step-dad a 'fucking hindu' and a 'cocksucker' just the other day, so I wasn't feeling all that kindly toward him. But something in me moved out of the way. Something big and powerful and ugly and mean and pissed off in me just took off running. And I let him help. And he actually helped.

Dinner was delicious (pot roast, au jus, potatoes roasted with lemon and oregano, broccoli cooked just 'till tender, green beans, and sliced tomatoes - yum!). The kids (all of them) wandered off to peacefully do whatever they were doing. Darklin asked me to go to Chapters with him, and though I hesitated, because, let's remember, Elder Kidlet did a pretty good job of smashing up the basement just a few days ago, I decided to go. Because HELLO???? MY HUSBAND ASKED ME TO GO OUT WITH HIM! ON A MONDAY!

So I went. :)

We had coffee. We talked (atheist vs. pantheist/theist/witch - it was the perfect combination of snarky and loving and fun). He insisted he didn't need 'spirituality' in his life, and then picked up a book called The Spiritual Atheist. I didn't mention this apparent contradiction, and he didn't sneer at me when I picked up "The Study of Witchcraft" by Deborah Lipp. The clerk gave us a funny look, just as he did last time we were there when Darklin picked up "The Skeptic" magazine, and I picked up The Temple of High Blah Blah by Christopher Penczak (Blah blah only because I can't actually remember the title - I kind of like his books. Do Not Laugh At Me!).

And then I talked to a good friend for a good hour about stuff and more stuff, and felt completely back in the loop with regard to my spiritual kin who I had to ditch in favour of keeping the peace this weekend. (They forgive me.)

It was a brilliant day, and I am counting my blessings.