We break easy

Holidays and family hold a power like no other.
There is the anticipation, the sugarplum fairies jetting around in our heads as we try to manage the additional numbers, responsibilities and sheer volume in our midst. For me, maintaining some sense of order is a priority, and even though the expectations are reasonable, I kind of always overshoot and then get frustrated with the aftermath.
Eamon and I were sitting together last night, the first time we've had alone in about a week, when we were not sleeping. We discussed our visit, the holiday our children and various worries and points that had been hanging around the corners waiting to come up.
After awhile he said, "this is the debrief." We laughed at that, because it was exactly that. Kind of an inventory of the events that had passed in order to gain, again, some order.

I believe it's meant to be

My sister told me yesterday that our grandmother had "picked" November 22 as her birthday because it was the same day JFK was shot. She elaborated on that with the notion, that because the actual birthday was forgotten, a choice was made.
What I wonder today is what date did she use before 1963?
There is so much lore, rumination and amplification when it comes to the generations before us and their stories. It's hard to tell what even has a modicum of accuracy and isn't shrouded in calumny. I guess it's like most things and left to interpretation and the fogginess of the passage of time.
I read an essay by the secret service officer that is forever indelibly branded in our retinas as the man that Jacqueline Kennedy can be seen reaching for after her husband was murdered by anyone but Lee Harvey Oswald. Though I know the picture well, it's completely new to me. It's taken on a whole new color and depth, as does all history once the dimensions become more indurate and de facto.

I must get out of the light

It isn't as If I've been avoiding writing, it's that logging into any of my personal accounts has become a crap shoot.
My dad called from California and asked me if I was selling Viagra now. I know he was kidding, but their was enough real inquiry in his voice to let me know that for him, nothing is out of the question when it comes to his kids.
I had already discovered that my "screen name" as AOL refers to it rather than blaming me, had sent out virus infected email to everyone in my address book. I had heard a text come in at 2 in the morning and looked at it to see if it was something important.
After a tiresome amount of effort, contacting, deleting and clearing up, I've taken care of that problem. What I don't know, is how it happened and to what extent; if it's something attached to my computer or it happened elsewhere. As usual, it's the unknown that is the question.

We see the show

For the last three or more years, Eamon has been dedicated to making a film from an original screenplay he wrote in a frenzy of output that included two more screenplays and a spate of short stories.
As this project really started to gel, I began to tell people I work with, friends and various acquaintances about his progress. Some, especially near the beginning were quite skeptical, and a little bit out of line with criticisms and challenging questions regarding his seriousness or knowledge of film. Others were excited, but all around there was a level of disbelief.
This summer, principle shooting began. He has scouted many locations and one of them, a century home that a friend and production assistant owns, is soon going to be put up for sale, so the exterior shots he wanted from that location needed to be completed before fall.
As I mentioned to some of the same people, that we had begun to shoot, their response and reactions began to shift. In fact, one day at work a customer came over and asked me if "I was the librarian whose husband was a filmmaker." My reaction was to laugh and that must have been confusing. The shift from being the lady with the nut job for a husband to the one married to the auteur was swift and abrupt but, not at all unwelcome.

Born to make

Oh, to loath; self, others, it's all the same.
I read a lot of stuff I shouldn't; articles, magazines, websites all about individuals in the public eye, all about their inadequacies and flaws and flaws and flaws. The areas that are most attacked, are the ones that are completely out of any one's control; aging, sweating, eating in a public place and having a picture snapped with mouth agape, basically being human. Oh the outrage at these deficiencies, as if crimes have been committed. All to make a certain segment of the population who put these people in a position of power, only to have the desire to sublimate them at every turn. There's a certain satisfaction obviously, in weakness of those who hold place beyond the norm. Yet, it's us we really desire to undo, it's our own alleged shortcomings or imperfections we disdain.
When I feel that way, and it does come more often with age, I picture what's inside. No, not a good heart and a sound mind, skeleton, muscle, tendon, organs, the whole nine yards of intestines, that kind of puts it into perspective for me.

Closer to my home

Recently, with the shift on the domestic front due to Gus being away, and the new found adulthood of Jake, it becomes apparent that I have to make some internal changes in order to keep up. For example, I have to not assume that the things that Gus is facing and how he is managing his experiences, are the same way I did. That, the mistakes he makes have to be his own, and have to happen because he is not merely an extension of Eamon and I.
For one who always thought that my ego was of minimal import, I've become hyper aware that that was a ruse. I want what's best for my children, but a big part of that is so that I can feel successful and as if I've achieved my goal of doing better than the previous generation. It's a valuable concern to come to terms with, but also an unfortunate reality check regarding the nature of purpose and motivation.

Everything that I desire

Jack was leaning towards, and then decided not to go trick or treating this year, in fact, the holiday was kind of anemic all around. There were about half as many critters coming to the door as we've had in the past, and I also didn't quite have my heart all in. Even with all of that, I carved some pretty cool pumpkins, one that included an empty beer bottle prop, and bought enough candy this time; which leads me to the "situation" I decamped about candy mid-hand out and noticed that there were at least five bags left.

When Eamon summarized the evening, which he will do for me ,he mentioned that all of the bags were gone. I was mildly confused but equally disinterested. I did however ask Jack this morning and he said that Jacob probably brought the rest to a party he attended.

Well, he didn't in fact, it was all hidden in Jack's room, in a pillowcase, sort of a faux Halloween candy stash.

The picture above is what Jake and I sent him to let him know we were on to his shenanigans. Funny yes, but also kind of sad that he felt compelled to keep that all for himself and blame Jake.

We had a talk and I bored him with my line of questioning perhaps next time, a new approach may be in order.