Surfing Waves

Not literally, which is unfortunate.  Even growing up in Santa Cruz, California, I never quite got the knack of it.  Oh believe me, I tried.  I boogieboarded, bodysurfed and even skimboarded a bit.  On land, I made a valiant attempt over the course of about five or six years at skateboarding (even built my own), but to no avail.  I think my center of gravity is too high or something.  Never felt like I could balance properly.  It's just as well, anyway.  After a couple concussions in high school, my equilibrium is pretty much limping along.  Call me Captain Gaping Head Wound.

In any case, the title refers to the "mild bipolar" diagnosis I was given by a therapist about ten years ago.  Whatever you might think about words like "therapist" and "diagnosis", one thing is for sure: it gave me a name to put on the cycles I'd woven into my creative process.  The therapist even recommended against medication, saying that my cycles were not wildly out of the functional norms of the manic or depressive zones, and I'd already learned how to "ride the waves" to my advantage.  Tempering those waves would be a detriment to my creative vocation.  And we all know the majority of the best artists throughout history have been at least a little tweaked in the brainpan.

I can usually tell when a low cycle is coming on, because of the introspection and lower energy.  I'm not quite as outwardly bright or social.  I'm quiet and monosyllabic, and tend to have a corresponding period of lower self image.  And that's when I go into my head and do some of my most creative work.  I revel in the focus these low cycles bring, and can be much more prolific than when I'm in an up cycle.  Looking back, I can see that the year we moved to Seattle was spent in a low cycle like no other (or lots of them strung together), and it yielded three novels, four short stories and a screenplay.  Not bad.  On up cycles, I tend to be productive in more external ways: bill-paying, home projects, organizing, etc.  Maybe I'm just an overachiever, but I'll take it.

Although genetic and hormonal, it can be modified by outside influences, like the season, music, ambient chaos, and the emotional composition of my partner.  And with a lot of real life activity in the past year, the low cycles have been short-lived and few.  But now I find myself being extremely productive in the midst of some real personal and family-related challenges.  Go figure.

I guess I should be thankful I'm as functional as I am.  And I should, as they say, "make hay while the sun shines".  Or maybe something more like "make art while Bauhaus broods on your playlist because you're not a farmer and have no reason to make hay in an urban environment."

Speaking of urban non-farmers making art, we've locked in a date for the final Duo short.  I will get to work with some of my favorite people again.  Dan, Dan, Jessie, Eric, Devielle, Landon, and someone I've been looking forward to working with for awhile now: Wonder.

After years of just doing it, it's an amazingly empowering experience to actually see the patterns and appreciate them for the life skills they are.  These are my waves.  I've been surfing here all my life.

Same Hell, Different Day

No, that's not me being down or pessimistic.  That's a statement about hearing lots of people over the New Year weekend mention how awful 2009 was.  In general, yeah.  It was a high stress year.  A lot happened in the world and closer to home.  In our family, there were challenges in the child-rearing, house-selling, house-buying arenas, coupled with various health issues and scares.  Couples splintered apart.  One close friend was diagnosed with (and apparently beat) lung cancer.  My grandmother was in and out of the hospital.  It was kinda rough.

But here's some perspective:

• The planet is still rotating, and revolving around the sun.
• Climate change hasn't killed us off yet.
• I got married (W00t!)

Honestly, there will always be dark clouds and silver linings to any year.  If I look at my own 2005-2009, I can see rough years of Biblical proportion: death of wife, death of father, flood, fire, locusts... Actually, there weren't locusts.  But we joked about it, because at the time if I didn't laugh, I would have curled into the fetal position and sobbed my ass off.  Come to think of it, I did that anyway.  Just not in public.  But in the midst of that maelstrom of awfulness there were deep friendships formed, the discovery of strength I didn't know I had, and an outpouring of love and support from my community.  I released an award-winning short film and made lots of valuable contacts in the film arena.  I also released a tribute CD for Samantha, which directly put Raechelle in my path.  Now THAT eats my mind every time I think about it.

The point being, it's fine and dandy to say, "2009 sucked - 2010 will be better!"  Heck, it may be true for you.  But there are always ups and downs to any 365-day period, and an arbitrary date on a calendar isn't going to make that any different.  2010, for me, holds the promise of progress on the film front, of creative collaboration with my wife, and of finally releasing the long-delayed second edition of Deep7's first premium fantasy RPG, Arrowflight.  All good things.

And while all of this is happening, an old friend of mine is dying of cancer.  Shura is one of my oldest friends in the area, as Sam & I lived with her and her then-boyfriend Garth when we first moved to Seattle in 1991.  I recently got reconnected with Garth, who got me reconnected with Shura just in time to find out not only had she battled breast cancer for years, but that it had metastasized to her bones and liver.  And she's now quite literally on her deathbed.  Seeing pictures of her taken within the last 48 hours was a huge flashback for me, and I beat my tiny fists against the massive chest of cancer once more, railing impotently from the mountaintop of Facebook.  Time may mute the immediate pain, but watching a loved one die far too young from cancer never becomes more okay.  Godspeed, Shura.  Much love.

On top of that, Raechelle's mom had a heart attack over last weekend, and was hospitalized with stents in her arteries.  I know she doesn't like it when people make a fuss, but we were preparing for some very hard news.  Thank goodness that doesn't appear to be the case! 

So my New Year kicks off with the impending death of an old friend and a health scare for my mother-in-law, and yet -- what a great gift to be reminded of life's finite nature, to be given renewed impetus to fulfill my own potential and not waste a single moment.

To that end, the woman and I are getting back in shape, and I've made appointments with a new head doc (to keep the emotional gears and cogs moving smoothly) as well as my meat doc (for that "You're over 40 - bend over!" physical). And as soon as we receive the report from UW, we'll be getting Tyler's situation sorted out as well.

And with that, here we go...

Sunbreak

...of sorts.

As I have mentioned previously, we are having issues with our teenager. Above and beyond your average teenager issues. It's been sapping every ounce of strength and energy we have, hence the lack of blog posts. The behaviors have been escalating, resulting in interventions by mental health professionals and the police. It's sort of like watching this dark cloud form over his head, growing darker and angrier, until it erupts in thunder and lightning and a deluge of acid rain.

But I saw a sunbreak yesterday. It was a subtle shift, but it was there.

Without going into detail, one of the hallmarks of Tyler's anger is that it is usually so blind that any attempt to disengage or calm him down usually results in an explosion of rage (and me spackling holes in the wall the next day). Not surprising, considering the trauma he's been through in his short life.

But yesterday, in the midst of conflict, when I was just settling in for the long haul, he applied the brakes, turned the angry car around, and altered his behavior on his own accord, without outside coercion. Now, Tyler has exploded and come back calm before. But this was completely different. It was a conscious decision to disengage from the conflict and re-engage in a totally positive way.

While Raechelle took Kayleigh to her martial arts lesson, Tyler and I walked to the store for supplies, then came home and made spaghetti with meatballs, fresh fruit salad and a mixed green salad with ingredients from our own garden. At one point, Tyler said to me, "I like cooking with you." I told him I liked it too. Dinner was a success, and afterward we watched the freaky storm whip through our neighborhood. Tyler went to bed at the correct time without incident (usually a high-stress time as TFMD and I wonder what form his outburst will take).

As his father, nobody has been burned more by these apparent changes in the past. By all rights, I shouldn't feel as optimistic as I do. But I do. Something changed. It was small, but profound nonetheless. And now he's in a partial day program which provides him with solo and group therapy, anger management, health & wellness support, and follow-up care.

I'm hoping to build on the success of last night. For the first time in several weeks, I saw my son emerge again. It was wonderful.

My Boy

As TFMD mentioned in her update, we've been having behavior issues with Tyler, who turns 15 this Sunday. It would be inappropriate to go into detail here, but suffice to say they are issues that go far beyond your typical teenage rebellion. This should not be surprising. Tyler is far beyond your typical teenager in terms of intelligence, and has had far more than your typical amount of trauma in his short life.

The behavior has been escalating. He's definitely hurting, and we're doing everything we can to get him the help he needs. That's all I will say at this point. I love my son dearly, and am focused on his health and happiness, while also providing a stable environment for the other three people in the household. It's a tightrope walk.

So there ya go. Hopefully some happy posting in the near future.

It Is, As They Say, The Suck.

Yesterday was stressful for too many reasons to go into here, and I don't think I've quite recovered. Most of it is kid/household related, and it's got me exhausted and reexamining how I allocate my energy. Accompanying this is a persistent worry about my grandmother's health, and boy howdy do these things stack up to make the day weighty.

We have a festive birthday evening planned for TFMD, so hopefully things will perk up.

Reset! Reset!

I want a big ol' reset button for the day, like on a videogame console. So on days when I wake up at 4:30 in the morning with stress-induced TMJ pain (wearing a mouth guard has ceased to help), I can just punch the button and start the level over. It doesn't help that my grandmother is still back and forth to the hospital.

I'm in a bad place today.

But I have a coffee chat with Darlene this morning (happy belated birthday), and I'm going to be gentle with myself today.

And a Facebook friend (an old theater associate of Sam's, in fact) posted a link to a really excellent and thought provoking blog post. Amen, brother.

That's all I've got.

For now.

I'm sure, given enough time, I can find something else to complain about.

Once More...

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

- Wm. Shakespeare, Henry V

My grandmother went to the hospital again last night. Same recurring problem. My mom texted me this morning, saying that they were giving her another unit of blood.

My phenomenal Tuesday came crashing down around dinner time. TFMD was shellshocked from a miserable workday, and we'd planned our pizza movie night for that evening, since we won't be around on Friday. So I had pizza delivered and waiting when she got home. And since she'd never seen Ghostbusters, we put that in. And I didn't follow my instinct to pull away from the "grrr" radiating from my fiancee's head. I just sat there and let her relax over the course of the movie, finally cuddling up. It's a new way of doing things for me, but I'm willing to adapt.

She was able to rebound pretty well, until we ran into evening complications with the kids, who are on spring break this week and feeling all sorts of entitled. So once that was all sorted out, we sort of cuddled angrily (angry not with each other, but with how the day had run its course) and drifted off to sleep. Awoke with some pretty bad jaw pain - although the mouth guard might keep my teeth from grinding at night, it doesn't stop the jaw muscles from tensing up.

TFMD called from work this morning to see if I wanted to drive up to Bellingham to see my grandmother. Weather is crappy, but I'm really considering it now. We'll see what happens this morning when my mom gets to the hospital.

[EDIT: This is SO not an April Fool's joke, just in case anyone was suspicious.]

"Lord, Why Do You Hate My Trains?"

The week has just sped by, thankfully.

For some reason, I've really felt "besieged" recently. Like everybody requires their pound of flesh. And although in my roles as parent, professional and partner, that's par for the course, for some reason I've been much more sensitive to it in the past couple weeks.

It didn't help that yesterday I found myself making three round trips from one side of West Seattle to the other, during peak traffic times, behind every joker doing 10mph UNDER the speed limit. Or that I had to do the grocery shopping at the only time available to me, which was 5:30PM, which, coincidentally, is also when they let every inmate out of the asylum to do THEIR grocery shopping. We're talking freakshow. Of Jerry Springer proportions. I've spent 18 years maintaining the belief that Seattle is a step above the whole lowest-common-denominator, trailer-trash phenomenon, but then when I moved to West Seattle in '93, there were still two gun shops and a porn shack on California Ave. So I guess it has improved, but that just makes watching the freakshow that much more... freakish.

It also hasn't helped that my workstation blew the motherboard and I had to replace it (a new system was cheaper and quicker than ordering a new motherboard), and that said new system keeps having random lock-ups. And I have to call the State Department of Revenue to find out why they have two differnt UBI numbers for my company. And I have to meet with yet another teacher who has been assigned to Tyler's IEP. The same IEP that was put in motion at the end of 8th grade.

I think I'm just in emotional lock-down right now, putting out all of these little fires as they crop up. As we get further into spring and the weather starts cooperating, perhaps things will shake loose a bit and I won't be so "grrr".

50 points if you can name the quote that is today's title.

Another Friday

Some bloggers have a set shtick they do every Friday, such as Stephen Rader's Fratboy Friday (fair warning, Stephen's blog is often NSFW) and Lydia Bruno's new Follow Me Friday.

However, when you've had the last couple weeks I've had, it's often all you can do to crawl wheezing and gasping through Friday's finish line.

Awoke to a migraine once again, the first in a couple months. I was having an absolutely scrummy dream about ponies (reference this clip from Blackadder, about 4:05), when my eyes threatened to jump from my skull and run screaming down the street. Totally no fair. I call shenanigans.

Add to that not one, but TWO kids home sick from school (Tyler has actually had a relatively excellent week in that regard), and an ever-growing to-do list, and you have one surly and tired TBFE.

Yesterday was productive. Had a production meeting with Dan & Trish about the series of four Duo shorts being planned. The first one gets shot at the end of the month. I'm itchy to get behind the camera again. I love the process.

It also just occurred to me that I didn't show my loyal readers the new gigging instrument I got for work with Buzzkill Bride.

It's the beast as pictured: an Ovation CC44. Epaulet sound hole design, black finish, brass hardware, 3-band EQ and onboard tuner. Sounds lovely. Raechelle doesn't like to play Ovations because of the round back, but she had to admit it sounds great. I've always loved Ovations. Jeff Lynne's signature guitar sound for ELO and the Traveling Wilburys was an Ovation 12-string with the low-end stripped out. Very lush and crisp all at once. Don't let the 1970s craziness distract you from some really well-crafted songs. Not everyone has to like ELO, but you gotta give 'em their place in the scheme of things.

And if ELO ain't your thang, check out what Glen Campbell can do with an Ovation. Go Glen.

Although the temps have risen, it's back to typical rainy, 40-something Seattle winter. And maybe that's got me a bit down. Plus all the dying. This weekend began to clutter up with all sorts of items on the calendar, but fortunately we realized early on that we'd be hating life afterward, and reduced our social obligations quite a bit. As it stands, things are manageable.

Here's to a safe trip to Cali for my mom & stepdad, and a happy weekend for everyone out there.

Au Revoir, Semaine de Merde

Goodbye, goodbye
Goodbye, goodbye
Goodbye, goodbye
Goodbye...

- Oingo Boingo

I think that gets the message across. This has been one of the crappiest weeks on record, as judged by emotional/stress benchmarks. No sleep leads to bitchiness, bitchiness leads to fighting, fighting leads to no sleep. It's been an all-time low in terms of self-image and other personal issues. But I've never been one to wallow for long. At some point, you just gotta say enough already.

So, enough already.

Oh, there have been good points. I've been very productive on the household, wedding, admin and work fronts. I have my tax info together (the earliest ever, post-Samantha). I have a short film project ready to shoot next month (the first of four Duo shorts). My attorney is filing suit against the guilty parties in the St. Valentine's Day Fire of '06 - so we may finally see some sort of restitution there. I'm relatively healthy. I get to have a boys' night out tonight. These things are not lost on me. It's just that the crap is opaque and makes it hard to see much else.

Hoping that I can reconnect and reset over the weekend, and get back to a generally positive tack (as opposed to staying becalmed in an Arctic chill).

I remain hopeful. If I didn't, I certainly wouldn't have kept a blog going for the last four years. But I'm glad I have. It keeps me honest.

Onward.

Out With the Old

My horoscope yesterday: "There's only one way to make room for new life: You've got to let go of the old stuff that's holding you back from getting there. This is your moment to shake free of whatever it is that happens to be weighing you down. Shake hard!"

No kidding?

Interesting that I should have chosen to go through a box of old photos yesterday (and purge quite a few). Unfortunately, that put me in an emotionally precarious position, and that led to misunderstandings and communication gaps. Which then led to self-loathing and approximately four metric assloads of "grr". Not my best day ever. For real.

For reasons unknown, I also chose yesterday to destroy all my old tabletop wargame terrain. Stuff I'd spent time and money creating, yet was sitting in a box, mocking me and my new life. I showed it. Broke it apart and stuffed it in the garbage to get picked up today. Who's laughing now, wargame terrain? Honestly, there's not much of my own work I've destroyed over the years, but sometimes as a creative type, one must exercise one's right to destroy one's own work which does not please. There may be some deep stuff that needs to be explored in a counseling office, but damn it felt good at the time. By the way, if anyone is in the market for a UNA army for the AT-43 game, I have one to sell. Cheap.

But Friday is a new day. I have a packed schedule. And I'm treating myself to a massage, damnit. And I get to have coffee with my sister. And we have the play at Youngstown tonight. And a fun weekend in the works. And the Seattle-Arizona game. And more unpacking. Unpacking is fun. The bedroom will get organized this weekend.

Alki Makes It All Better

So, yesterday was, as the kids say nowadays, "the suxxorz". It seemed like every possible stresser in my life chose yesterday to crap all over me, after eating Indian food, Slim Jims and Wild Turkey.

Yeah, that bad.

I'm not gonna go into all of it here. Hell, I'm not gonna go into most of it here. Tyler/school issues. Work issues (serious writer's block). Health issues. Relationship issues. Money issues. Suffice to say, it was poopy, and I felt as if I'd been dragged under a truck down a gravel road. On fire.

Hey, what's with the overblown metaphors?

I should give big props to my daughter Kayleigh for finding me on the front porch and giving me a heck of a shoulder massage. Thanks honey. That was a bright spot in the day. As was hearing "you're the awesomest dad ever" at tuck-in time.

I also should mention Dan - you really helped by letting me vent, buddy. Thanks.

After said poopy day, which culminated in my actually cooking a nutritious dinner of multi-grain pasta and salad, negating same by slamming back a couple beers, and finally wrestling both of my lovely offspring into bed, I was ready to slip into my own bedtime coma and rest up for a better day.

Which started with me waking up at 5AM (WTF??). Undaunted, I headed upstairs to be proactive. I did some email, some research, took my supplements, did my isometrics, sent out a query to Rae's mom about Hurricane Ike, and then got the kids up and out. Another skirmish with Tyler, but no fatalities (although he is grounded this weekend). Dropped the kids at school and headed down to Alki with some kickass tea. You heard me. I used the words kickass and tea in the same sentence. Because I'm 6'4" and a deuce and a half, so I can effectively punch you in the face while drinking said kickass tea.

But Alki is not about punching people in the face. It's about calm. It's about recharging. As I sat on the cement steps, watching the tide come in, some movement caught my eye. Not twenty feet away from me, an osprey flapped its way inland with a whole fish clutched in its talons. The screenplay would have gone something like this:

OSPREY
Score!

FISH
[wriggle wriggle]
Shit.

It put my problems in perspective. I don't have to worry about where my next meal is going to come from. Nor do I have to worry about a big friggin' osprey hauling me away for breakfast. Nor do I have to worry about a hurricane blowing through my neighborhood. Perspective, man.

It's coming up on the end of a rough week. Being down at Alki the past two mornings has helped my outlook immensely. I'm fortunate to live in such a beautiful part of the country. I'm fortunate to have good friends, a supportive family, loving children (even at their worst, they are pretty damn cool), and a wonderful partner. That knowledge and perspective helps me to be able to weather a lot of crap.

Lunch with Raechelle today, and the weekend kicks off tomorrow with zombie movies! Huzzah!

Yep.

I can identify with that.

Now don't get all worried, dear readers. I've talked about my diagnosed "mild bipolar" condition in the past, and all will be well in a few days. There's just a lot going on for me right now, including (but not limited to):

1. Back to school approaching, and a lot of parental/school interface (especially dealing with Tyler's situation)
2. Duo funding being stalled
3. Relationship switching gears from 24/7 vacation to "see ya on the weekend"
4. Dealing with PTSD from recent and past trauma alike (I can do it, it's just complicated)
5. ...which feeds into: a) not eating; b) not sleeping; c) not doing home maintenance; d) not doing self maintenance
6. Switching gears from really productive on the OA series pilot script to total writer's block, and I have a production meeting on Thursday
7. Matt's birthday is in 2 days, and I'm missing him... yes, still
   
8. The Seahawks lost last night's game by one friggin' point

In short, I'm not running on all cylinders, and I don't feel like I can talk about it with anyone - so you, the anonymous (and not-so-anonymous) reader gets to read my griping. Sorry. Like I said, all will be peachy in a few days, and I hope to post happier stuff (like the sand castle kid below).

Why Being an Artist Sucks

Reason #2,457 (you know, after all the ones about not being able to make a living and the public perception of not having a "real" vocation): The Muse.

That bitch. After a great OA series development session with Dan & Trish, I felt like a Whedonesque writing god. The Muse was whispering ideas in my ear and massaging an ego which had been somewhat battered recently. I should have seen it coming - the insomnia that comes with any great artistic stride.

At 2:30AM I finally calmed down enough to let myself fall asleep.

This is a perfect example of what the artistic temperament is like. It's really a case of mild bipolar disorder. The waves of high energy and achievement I surf like a Hawaiian tiki god on a longboard, full of confidence and hubris and a sense of "anything is possible". Then the low energy period when I go quiet and internal - the angst that fuels the need to paddle back out into the surf.

Meh. It's not so bad. I've surfed these waves of creativity all my life, as long as I can remember (and I can go back to 2 years old). At least I'm not hacking off my own body parts and sending them to my girlfriend, unlike SOME people.

Speaking of girlfriends, reason #346 why I love mine:

As I've mentioned previously, there's a person from the painful part of Raechelle's past (which she has alluded to in general terms on her own blog) who continues to monitor both her blog and mine. It's not like he's stalking her physically - he's just quietly lurking, the virtual equivalent of the creepy guy in the bushes peering in the window (whereas the majority of our readers are more like invited houseguests).

Maybe it was the shared wine or the creative high I was on from the production meeting, but for some reason when I logged onto Sitemeter and saw his IP and the referral from Rae's blog, I let myself get pissed. I know I shouldn't - that's a really ugly, jealous aspect of my psyche I'd just as soon keep locked away. But that stuff triggers my alpha male protection instinct, as I don't like the thought of anyone hurting my woman like he did.

So I called her, and she talked me down. We agreed that any energy directed at this guy would be better used in loving each other and creating a wonderful future together. Our best revenge is in our own happiness. And some people are just not worth the bother.

And speaking of happiness, we have seven (count 'em) SEVEN houses to tour tonight. I've had at least a little time with my girl every day this week, and it's been fantastic. And this weekend is slated to be chock full of activity. Starting next weekend, we're in Cali.

* * *

Wow. I just heard a guy on the building construction kitty corner to us get injured. We get all sorts of entertainment out here. Hope he's okay. He's sure vocal about it, which is probably a good sign.

The Friggin' Skeletons Won't Die

This will be short and totally not graphic, but it will help my readers (friends and family especially) understand what's up with me recently.

Some of you know that, aside from the loss of my wife, father and home within a one-year period, I also had some childhood trauma (the details of which I won't go into - those who know are supposed to know). Suffice to say, it's bad (like there's a good kind of trauma). The kind that can really do a number on you if not dealt with. This is all stuff that I'd worked on and gone to counseling over, and done really well - decades ago - squaring away. And I had squared it away (or thought I had), with the help of my wife and Best Friend (TM), Samantha.

But now with Samantha gone, and my father (the one other person I could talk to about absolutely everything because it had happened to him too) gone, I don't have an outlet, except for the counselor, which will work for the time being but obviously isn't the most ideal.

So, on the one hand, I've lost the two people in the world I absolutely didn't need to self-censor for, at a time when I really need to not have to self-censor. And since I process externally by actually "using my words" and verbalizing my thoughts, you can see this puts me in a bit of an uncomfy position.

Then we have the fact that because I'm more emotionally invested in this relationship than any since my two-decade relationship with Sam, some of these old skeletons are popping up from the dead and making me just a tad miserable. Because without the uncensored outlet, I tend to go quiet, brood, stew and internally beat myself up. And I know that's not the right way to heal, which is why I'm in counseling, and why I'm glad Raechelle really wants to be that Best Friend (TM), like I want to be for her. We're just not there yet.

It's nothing anybody needs to worry about. There's nothing wrong between me and my girl. It's just that we've gotten to the point of ripping off the old bandages and showing each other the scars (and I have some pretty big scars), and sometimes they didn't heal quite like you thought they did, if that makes sense.

So if you're in regular contact with me and feel that I've been a bit moody, distant, angry or in any way off-balance, that's why. And it will get better over time.

Moving on...

Epiphanies, Breakthroughs and Beer

Yesterday began with getting Tyler to school, and it didn't let up until I crashed at 1:30AM this morning.

Got email correspondence and some graphics hunting done, the latter for Gavin's first project management gig with Deep7. Exercised and showered. Made a bank deposit. Got sushi at the new and improved QFC deli, where there is now a dedicated (and actually Japanese) sushi chef on hand. Two sushi trays and two green teas were half what I would have paid at Subway for sandwiches. And since both Raechelle and I have spent way too much this month on dating and generally going out, half is a good thing... and it made her happy.

We had a nice picnic out by Lake Union. Too brief, but baking in the sun ain't exactly the best idea for this Celtic warrior. Grabbed an Italian soda at Uptown Espresso by the West Seattle Bridge, as I had a few minutes to kill and didn't want to drive all the way home and then drive all the way back to the bridge for my counseling appointment. Got a text from Dan about the Duo pitch. No news to share yet.

Had a really eye-opening counseling session, just one on one. Much to ponder and process, all of it very encouraging. Raechelle and I will have a few things to discuss this weekend. Came home and checked email, made an appointment to look at a couple houses on Saturday. Dashed off with Tyler to the Charlestown for dinner with Mom, Bob & Gavin. After that, we drove by one of the houses on our list and took a look at the outside. Even though my mom isn't our agent (she referred an awesome lady in the local office), she's keeping pretty hands-on with pulling possible homes from the MLS reports.

Then Tyler and I headed up to Ballard, with a brief detour down First Ave to the El Gaucho, inside which is a cool little 21-and-over movie theater with a full bar where they run first run films (The Big Picture). I got two of the last four tickets for the Saturday night showing of The Dark Knight. Raechelle and I are double-dating with JD and Alison.

In Ballard, we picked up Kayleigh from Katherine's place, where she'd been hanging out all day, swimming and cycling. We dropped by Raechelle's apartment and hung out for a few minutes.

Once at home, the kids took Wiley for a walk. and by the time they got back, I could tell all hell was going to break loose. Screaming, whining, provoking... flip-flops were thrown, tears were shed. Tyler and I had words. Tyler was proactive and called Gavin himself so that he could be removed from the house and get a breather. I got Kayleigh ready for bed, had a couple beers and vented on the phone to Raechelle, who was incredibly supportive and soothing. We hung up and I went back upstairs to finish up for the day.

More email, more beer. Crashed at the aforementioned 1:30AM. Awoke at 6:30AM. Gah.

Today should hopefully be calmer, since Tyler is usually somewhat contrite after these meltdowns. And there were three aspects to this one that made it easier than some of the more extreme ones in the past: 1) it's been some time since his last removal to Gavin's house; 2) he initiated it, which shows that he is more self-aware regarding when he needs a break; 3) it was quite a bit milder than previous outbursts.

So that was my day... that, and something humorous and bizarre which requires a second post.

Bullets.

• Got a hold of the health insurance rep with the county. He took some info, and is sending the applications. We're on the road to becoming insured again.
• Got the grocery shopping done for the week. And I remembered to bring my huge canvas bag full of more canvas bags.
• Spent the entire day either on the phone or in email exchanges.
• Boiled the two-dozen extra eggs we had left over after Katherine's last visit. I made egg salad and had a couple hard boiled for lunch. We'll devil the rest.
• Feeling overwhelmed and not in the most benign frame of mind. This, in direct contrast to my public persona. I'm thinking once we're insured again, some intensive one-on-one counseling would be a good idea. I left Gilda's because the group thing was no longer valuable, but have neglected the single therapy due to the fact that I systematically put my own needs aside when running my household, raising my kids and engaging in a relationship. And I need to not do that.
• My left pinky-toe has been fractured and stubbed so often throughout my life that it has a tendency to spontaneously split the nail (regardless of contact with any foreign surface; the nail bed is just that damaged). So I have two halves of a toenail, both anchored to the nail bed, but also flapping about. I need to bandage it up and wait for the nail to grow out enough to pluck the bad half from the nail bed. Until then, it just hurts like a sumbitch. Amazing that often the tiniest wounds cause the greatest aggravation.
  
• Right now, I would love to rent out my kids and go off to the Pacific coast for a few days to decompress alone. Split pinky-toe and all. Just rest and get my head in order.
  
• Did I mention overwhelmed?
• Trespassers William is not the best music to listen to when feeling dark and/or melancholy, but screw it - it's cathartic.
  
• Boo hoo bitch whine moan groan.