Oops

Hubs and I both forgot to update the adult sons and significant others about the change in holiday plans. We talked about it between ourselves enough that I guess we both assumed the rest of the family had to have heard. ES woke me early this morning with text questions about when I would be arriving. The frustrating fits and start in the project which prompted the change in plans have made me wish, more than once, that I would have held true to the plans and tempted me to say, "Fuck it!" and hop in the truck to join in the Holiday Rush. A little. Whatever the Rush, my beaten crazy bitch wolf instinct remains to keep a safe distance.

I have come a long way in dealing with the non-stop trigger madness nurtured during my Decembers in the kiddie whorehouse, but I still donae love the Santa madness and havenae found my nostalgic bonds with any of the mainstream Xmas traditions, nor any confident understandings of the in-law holiday traditions. The most functional understanding I ever found to handling the in-law traditions is to treat them like corporate sponsored events. Just show up and roll with the flow. This, too, shall pass.

The toilet here clogged during yesterday morning's daily dump. There's nothing like a shit-clogged toilet to start the day. . . Yesterday's rounds of plunging and chemical warfare got it flowing a little bit, but it clogged again on this morning's dump. Fortunately, the clog was far enough down the pipe that the water in the toilet remained clean. The analogies which started percolating through my non-verbal thoughts with the first clog have begun jumping the fence between my sensory thoughts and verbal thoughts. I am a dedicated, albeit amatuer botanist. Shit carries different connotations for me than it does at a video game meet-up.

Between Hubs and I, I have long referred to our family's dysfunctions as a plumbing clog. There is a plethora of love, honor and respect there. It's just having trouble getting through the clogs in the pipe.

So far, I am pleased with how gently the non-verbal yaddahs are processing and the calm order in which the non-verbal is processing into words. Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer. . . And another plunge for the toilet. . . Another trip to the hardware store or a call to somebody who already has all the tools for the job?