Liking Dana’s post 1000 times.

Shir, I am so glad you are safe and Nilly &family also. Thank you so much for checking in. This is just awful.

Shir, thank you for letting us know you and Nelly are safe.

Plain, black, comfortable running shoes are good for any occasion.

Wear your sneakers and be happy.

Thanks--I'll do that. Every once in awhile the ghost of mean girls from middle school, and even more the way standards of what one should and shouldn't wear together have changed since I was learning them, around about when I was occasionally getting picked on by aforesaid mean girls, gives me self-doubt, and sometimes it's nice to have some help shutting up those voices.

Shir, wishing you and Nilly and your families continued safety. Thanks for keeping us updated.

Shir, thank you for checking in. This is so awful. Keeping you and Nilly and your families close in thought and heart.

Susan, first off, love the dino dress. In fact, I just love SAYing 'dino dress'. And, most importantly, what Dana said. Be comfortable.

If you feel like you have to justify your comfort, decorate your sneaks to match the dress of the day.

Shir, bless you and all your people. May you be protected on every level. Never feel guilty about dropping in. I am SO much worse at that than anyone else and am simply grateful anytime I see you here!

Happy birthday, JenP. You make it look great.

David, you are a kind hearted man. Those girls are blessed to have met you. Years ago, my husband called me in the middle of the night to let me know that 20 French exchange students were heading my way. He had traffic stopped their van and noticed that they were stacked like cordwood after being abandoned by their tour company.

We had a huge back yard and floor space, so they all piled in. It was a riot. I got to practice my deplorable French. What does one need, really, beyond "Le petit déjeuner est prêt"?

I hope, despite the heavy circumstances, you all get good stories out of this chapter.

What does one need, really, beyond "Le petit déjeuner est prêt"?

That's all one needs.

I've tapped into the network of Super Efficient Super Nice Elementary School Moms of Matilda's old school and they've already rounded up some supplies for the girls. So between that and some shopping tomorrow they should be provisioned.

I've done some research on the options and they'll have to go through the local Halfway House charity that mediates into Foster Care: [link]

I think as long as we can keep the sisters together that's the best bet.

Got too far behind and only read since my last post.

Keep checking in, Shir. I get the apology but you are in literal survival mode. As someone who deals with a lot of people freaking out about hurricanes in my general vicinity, I give you permission to not apologize.

I missed the beginning of this story Hec; super bless you for helping those kids and connecting them with community.

Update for my world: Friday I

• cried in front of one boss and yelled at the other for 20 min (he prefers raw and direct communication) with pent up frustration

• an hour later lost my shit talking to my sister for the first time since the memorial; she wanted me to self-flagellate prostrate on the Altar of Family Secrets and I refused so she lost her shit. I finally stopped trying to be a zen master or her therapist and bitched her out like a big sister should.

• realized that while I am not a safe space for her, she is also not that for me and really never has been. Too much armor and nothing but spiky slicey bits.

• drafted, printed, and got my roommate to sign her notice to vacate in 30 days

• thanked some close people for not being as shitty as my first family, only for one of them to turn viciously on me as a traitor to the cause for keeping the apartment. So I told her to fuck right off and come back when she could ask questions instead of assuming the worst. (It’s fine, we’re good)

• tried to vent to Robby about it all but they were mentally and physically exhausted and falling asleep

• that’s around when I posted here

• channeled my frustration and rage and new! Improved! smonster, now with 100% more boundaries into an email to my dad and brother telling them I was cutting Rachel off and if they can’t find the curiosity to make learning anything at all about queerness a priority, almost 24 fucking years after I came out, I may choose not to spend time with them either.

And then there were migraines and an unscheduled call with my therapist and a wonderful multi-hour convo with my dad’s sister (fuck toxic oaths of loyalty that only kill connection) and apologies for tone, not content to my dad and brother.

Talked to a wonderfully validating and wise friend today; she said I literally sounded like a new person.

and then my dad for an hour. It was a good conversation but exhausting.

Thankfully, all leavened with lots of funny and sweet and touching moments with R and kids at the murder cabin.

I love my life. I’m excited to try new things and get organized. I feel honored to have a chance to claim generational gifts as well as break curses, and to model a healthy partnership and loving care to two of the most potentially volatile creatures on Earth - adorable blond white male teenagers with a mom locked into her own family curses and ways.

I seriously might write a book. And now I believe that I really could and might actually have an idea of how to at least go about it. (Dear self - no, do not even think about NaNoWriMo unless you have nothing else to do because you’ve had a full-on Victorian collapse)

And now I’m trying to sleep again because I have to get up in four hours and drive across the lake to be at PT for 7 am.

So thank you for being one of my first sites of self-liberation, and always being there when someone needs it. Like the penguins in winter. I always have lurkers in email and it matters.

Believe it or not, I am learning to edit a bit before hitting post. But my brain is exploding so it’s extra hard now.

This is what I get for occasionally wishing I had mania from time to time.