Apt. 7 in Adaptation

OHAI!

I'm still alive!

Here I am!

On Being in Hicksville:

Not gonna lie... it was mostly awful.

Painful, even.

Especially when Peter and I went out for coffee.

Driving around, it all felt so... sad and small and claustrophobic. How did I ever stand it? There is nothing going on in that town that interests me. It's a cultural wasteland in rapid decline. No jobs, no vitality, very little hope. It's a practically-decimated-by-Walmart town with a rapidly expanding mentally-ill-homeless-drug-addict cottage industry (as per Peter - who volunteered twice a week at the shelter for the last five years).

Plus, it just triggered me - just being there, physically - reminded me of a LOT of horrible shit from my less-than-idyllic childhood (I was born in that town; though we later moved to Toronto and beyond), plus - some OTHER horrible shit. Very scene-of-the-crime kinda stuff. Ugh. Like, it was visceral. I felt myself... deflate.

It was deeply unpleasant.

HOWEVAHHHH!

There were good things, too!

Good Things, Too!

a) My-gurl-Drew graduated! As an Ontario Scholar! AND! She nabbed (just under) FOUR GRAND in scholarship awards!

THAT'S RIGHT, BITCHES.

It was a great night. For all my barely-concealed insanity... (See previous entry. Hooooo-boy!) ... it went really well. I felt very proud of and happy for her.

We did it!

I managed to stay present and just... let it happen. I even managed to follow her around the reception, camera at the ready, without feeling too aggrieved and annoyed. (Weird, right?!?! Ha!) I got some great shots of her with her friends and teachers. It was juuuuuuuuust fiiiiiiine. DONE! Three for three!

b) Hung out with MaggieTheCat and Patrick Starr! There was pie! A backyard bonfire! WEINERZ!!! Peter brought the telescope and dialed-in Saturn... it's such a great sky at Maggie's place. Plus, they joined us for the graduation festivities... it was verrah-verrah nice.

c) Also hung out with my gayboyz... we had dinner and a marathon catch-up session and snuggles! Plus, they joined us for the graduation festivities - dinner/grad/after-party, as well.

It was good, y'know? I feel like my friends are my family. I choose not to have my related-by-blood family around me because... just... nope. It's too fucked-up. I much prefer people I'm not related to - it's just... better for everyone involved.

d) Ol' Seanie-boy. I could write (and have written!) REAMS about this kid.

Except: BREVITY, people!

Christ.

This:

He's not a "kid" - he's 25.

(!!!TWENTY!!!FIVE!!!)

He's an adult with his own life. He's crazy. How could he NOT be? THIS IS WHO HE IS and really, this is who he's always been.

I've had a great deal of difficulty being his mother. He was a monumental challenge to me the day he was born. These are just facts.

He was his usual goofy-ass self but he was also very proud of his sister AND, he helped us move all our crap! Our time together was short'n'sweet - I enjoyed seeing him. We chatted about a few things - I mostly listened and didn't offer much commentary nor guidance because: !!!TWENTY!!!FIVE!!! Plus, I think enough time has finally gone by for me - the sucking-chest-wound that has been our mother-son relationship is now just a bumpy uneven scar.

Finally.

It's different now.

I'M different now.

THE MOVE(S)!

Leaving Hicksville was eazy-peazy! We had Sean and (roughly!) half of Drew's graduating class help us! Plus, we threw a whole-buncha shit OUT - therefore: less to move! WHO'S A GENIUS??? Then, we hit the road for the almost-nine-hours-long (closer-to-six-hours-long, when you're not in a goddamned moving van, on the goddamned Canada Day/first long-weekend of summer) trek to Montreal.

REMARKABLY, it went well!

Srsly. Apart from one bottleneck traffic-jam that only lasted about 40 minutes, it was fine. We cranked the air and made regular pit-stops for Timmy Iced Caps because:

41C (106F) WITH THE HUMIDITY. (Fuck OFFFF, Summer!)

And when we got here, Jake arrived and helped us unload... like a beast!

BUT WAIT!

THERE'S MORE!

The next day, we also had to get my shit from my old apartment. Good times! Especially because:

41C (106F) WITH THE HUMIDITY. (Fuck OFFFF, Summer!)

But, that also went remarkably well because the new-people-who-were-moving-into-my-old-apartment arrived early and instead of standing around like useless dicks, THEY MOVED MY COUCH AND TWO BIG-HEAVY-AWKWARD DRESSERS!!! Nice!

Then, it was just a question of getting everything off the truck and into the new place. Which also-also went remarkably well because we got THE perfect parking spot (no small feat on this one-way street - on the crazy-bizzy-est moving day of the year, in this province).

PLUS!

MY COUCH ACTUALLY FIT THROUGH THE SKINNY DOORS!

Considering my busted-knee, my krazy-brainz and the stinking heat, it was a fairly smooth move. Soopah-glad it's over, y'all.

THE NEW 'HOOD/NEW DIGS:

• Close to everything. EVVVVV-REEEEE-THING!

• Handy as hizz-ell.

• Way quieter than my old place.

• Big-ass trees! Lots of Elms! Which are mostly extinct in Ontario! SO NICE!

• My bedroom faces the back and has a sweet little deck which is surrounded by Cedars and Elms and Maples and some kind of full'n'bushy creeping-vine-thing - which means: it's totally private! It's GREEN, GREEN, GREEN! I've started calling it the treefort! WE HAVE CARDINALS!!! Love it!

• The actual apartment is old and needs some renovating for sure but it's also quite charming with its distinct Montreal flavour. It's funky-shabby-chic with squeaky hardwood floors and arched entry-ways and antique-glass door handles and a built-in ironing board in the kitchen (Who even irons shit anymore? NOT ME!) and best of all?

NO DOGS ALLOWED!!!

Huzzah!

CAN THIS MARRIAGE BE SAVED?!?!?!

First of all, I don't believe in marriage! Marriage is for gay people! Let them have all the same legal rights and protections bestowed upon me simply for being straight! (Which they already do, here in Canuckistan.)

All that to say, I've designated Peter back to "boyfriend" status. We never actually married for many reasons - primarily because: fuck that church-sanctioned bullshit. Even at 17, when we first got together, the burgeoning feminist in me thought the whole shit-storm was a giant crock. So, we've been common-law for 26 years. I was never comfortable stating that Peter was my "husband". And it always got extra-stupid because we have different last names and the kids have my last name - as opposed to the traditional nonsense of branding them with his last name at birth because: fuck that - I made them, I birthed them, they're MINE. I even briefly considered picking a whole new name for myself AND for them because, technically, MY (and their) last name was my asshole-father's last name and...

HELLO!!!

I AM HERE TO SMASH THE FUCKING PATRIARCHY, YOU FUCKERZ!!!

But, most people could barely understand the fact that we weren't married when we popped out our bastards, so it's just been easier to spare them the strain of having to actually THINK ABOUT SHIT; y'know... instead of just mindlessly swallowing the bullshit other people have spoonfed them for generations... but I DIGRESSSSSSSSS!!!

The first night we were here, delirious-from-the-heat-pillow-talk included how we needed a new definition for this... thing we have. I suggested going back to "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" because it's a more accurate description of what we really are to each other. With a recent emphasis on the actual "friend" part of that word.

I like it!

It works for me!

So, yeah... things are okay-ish. We're doing well. He's very glad to be here and away from that town and his old job and that stupid-rich-bitch, Mrs. Swell.

Yesh, yesh!

But also, we need time. We haven't lived together in ten months. There's a re-adjustment period. This is/was a big move and a big change for both of us. But, so far... he's been running quick errands here and there and when he comes back, he's all:

"Suzy! I LOVE this spot! This is a great neighbourhood! I am so happy we're finally here together!"

I'll take that.