The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Tryptophan

Yesterday, I wrote an entry that had all my thoughts, soul and a few drops of blood in it, only to hit 'save entry' and have it float off into space. I hate when that happens.

Just as well, though, because yesterday I was feeling low and it more than showed. I get caught between cozy and despair this time of year, loving the colour and the smells of the world around me, but becoming all too aware that winter approaches, and I hate that time of year. That we had our Thanksgiving dinner yesterday without pumpkin pie was a bit of a downer, too. How does a supermarket run out of canned pumpkin at Thanksgiving? Don't the people who do the ordering have a clue what's important? *sigh*

I made a vanilla cream custard with sliced strawberries (doused with rum) instead, but the whole time I ate it I was thinking how good a pumpkin pie would be, how creamy and spicy and perfect. I wished for wine, too. Though I had been quite specific about what I wanted to do yesterday i.e take a long walk, go downtown to buy wine and vanilla beans, he seemingly ignored me. By four o'clock, I was as angry as I was sad, because I had once again opted for a 'quiet family dinner' rather than travel to my sister's house for the formerly traditional all-out dysfunctional family picnic because I thought M. would be happier. He certainly seemed to be, but the fact that he stayed in his office all day working made me feel very, very low. I hate that nothing is as special to him as it is to me. I hate that he uses his past to justify his disinterest in the things that bring magic into my life. I know his family didn't celebrate much more than Christmas, but I don't care. He's with me now. I need to celebrate. When he finally brought himself down from his office as the sun was looking to set, he buoyantly asked what we needed at the store. I was so muddled that I couldn't think of a thing anymore, so I sent him to get sugar and a couple other things I can't remember. When he put his shoes on to go, and readied the wee one to accompany him, it became clear that he hadn't thought of inviting me to tag along. Every suggestion I had yesterday involved the three of us doing something outside the house, because the weather is sublime for this time of year, and I hate wasting a gift like that. When he looked at me as I was tidying up the counter after making the stuffing, he sheepishly asked if I wanted to go along. I responded with a crisp 'no, thank you', and I turned my back away.

While he was gone, I let myself cry a little. It doesn't improve, does it? The isolation, the alienation, and I do it to myself. I could have gone to my family dinner and had conversation, been part of something, but I chose to remain here in an effort to make him happy, and he decided to behave as he always does, indifferently. He likes to be in his head, and while I love him for it most of the time, it becomes difficult to accept at others.

He must have known. When he returned, he had oodles of chocolate (apparently the only thing which solves my problems, according to him, but I appreciated it), and he happily cleaned out the turkey and stuffed it for me, rather than leave me to do it all as he typically does. He sat downstairs with me until dinner was nearly ready, but because the day had basically ended, and because all of my better ideas had expired, we essentially just sat next to one another, mindlessly watching the television. It was okay, though, because he had made the effort without me saying a word, and that meant something.

We had the turkey with apple and celery bread stuffing, whipped cheese potatoes, gravy, spinach salad, vanilla cream with berries and candlelit conversation with our wee one who it turns out thinks stuffing is 'yucky'. When she'd gone to bed, I flipped back and forth from one horror film to another, since it's the month for that genre, and couldn't find one that seemed particularly watchable. I settled on 'Halloween 2', but soon realized that every single character in that movie was unbelievably stupid, so then I went over to 'Haunted' with Aidan Quinn and Kate Beckinsale and settled there for the evening. Not a bad film, but it ran a little long. M. despises movies like that, but to my surprise, he came down and watched it with me, not once commenting on how ridiculously unbelievable the story was. In fact, the only negative comment was from me when the sex scene came on and it was obvious that the two people in the scene were not the stars of the film, but doubles, and the editors didn't even bother to hide their faces. M. laughed at this, and I sat there stunned, because when you have a sex scene in a film, you want to be believe it. If you can't believe in ghosts, you want to at least believe in the sex.

So, I recognize that he tried, and what's more, he realized how sad I was and he tried to fix it without turning it into a discussion. I appreciated that. We did have a little talk about how I'm feeling, because he asked, and I tried to keep it short and sweet because when I hear myself talking, I hear a lot of the same things I've said before. I talked about feeling lost, how looking at pictures of myself and seeing a different version of me is hard because I know that the best of my looks are over, how I am tired of being fearful and sad so often. He listened, he smiled, he didn't pontificate. Thankfully.

He says we're going to go to that little village on the lakeshore for coffee today. I am beyond excited to think it might be so. It is sunny out there, and a little hot, actually, and it's perfect for taking photographs and lazing about, knowing that half a turkey is still in refrigerator, as are the mounds of creamy potatoes which will make wonderful potato cakes.

All my whining aside, I love autumn as much as I love chocolate.