Waffling

YS took the GK's back to their apartment homestead Saturday evening. Hubs left early this Monday morning to make the three hour drive to his job before work hours started. I am more or less packed to head back to the river region, but find myself freezing up every time I think of putting the boxes in the truck. Watching the dawn shadows shorten to full daylight across the cattle grazing in the pastures feels too peaceful to disturb with departure activity. The promise of the day's heat to come adds some impetus, but not allot. Yes, the brutal Texas summer heat is announcing its coming, but it isnae quite here yet.

S.O. is the main distraction this morning. Her relationship with ES is more confusing than ever, but she still feels like a member of the family to Hubs and I. I doesn't know, but I does believe she currently is more interested in being a member of this family than she is in the surly, middle aged man who seldom leaves his bedroom for anything other than telling the world to shut the fuck up. Maybe. She still looks like a woman in love whenever that sleep saturated grump attempts to engage in life. Dunno. . . 21st century bachelors (of both genders) get my vote as the most confusing people on the planet. Maybe. . . Is there a clear line between 21st century divorcees and 21st century bachelors? I seem to remember distinctions from my childhood in the 60's, but half a century later? Not so much to my senses. They all hit my senses as masters of confusion. Creative romantic comedies in motion. . . I'm not a big fan of the romance genre, either written or cinematic.

S.O. is another emotional orphan. The father who raised her died in 2012 and she never bonded far with her biomom or stepmom, nor the father's big, rowdy clan down in the Rio Grande Valley, straddling the border between the US and Mexico. Our birth family dynamics are very similar: hundreds of living blood relatives with no one you can call on a sleepless night. It's a lonesome state of being. Even with the committed, 38 year relationship with the family I gave birth to, I still feel the mighty pulls from the sucking black holes of the estranged family which gave birth to me.

S.O. has been assisting Hubs with the hive setup here on the ranch and managing the affairs here. Her bigger personal interest in the bee biz has been developing the hive products, most especially the cosmetics. She has made several products that I am awaiting more of. Encore! Encore! ES and his devout bachelor antics have interferred mightily with her developing of those products within the urban homestead. She has been coveting the space here for the development, with encouragement from Hubs and I. I know she isnae my daughter-in-law, but I worry like a mother over the vulnerability of her space without active career development, nor comitted family. I suggested Hubs give her something she could put on her resume: Assistant Beekeeper?

ES and SO were present during the first two weeks of my stay here at the ranch. ES was an unplanned influence. He followed her up here with his sleeping arrangements. My own maternal senses donae believe he sleeps much during his endless hours in bed, but my maternal senses are also appalled by the notion of monitoring what goes on in a middle-aged-child's bedroom. There are places a mother doesnae belong. SO assures me his *sleep* is so restless that even sharing a room with him is as restful as a sporting event. That is a symptom of sleep saturation in my personal psycho baggage car. During my own epic sleep sessions, I know I am sleep saturated when I start spending more time tossing and turning between weird dreams than actually sleeping. Time to get up and ply therapy exercises before those weird dreams start growing into nightmares. But that is me. . . What it is for my middle-aged son is his to sort and name.

Whatever the evers of all those whats, SO and I never got around to much of the gardening, harvesting and distilling talks we had hoped for during that two weeks. She was in Austin taking care of other business. When I broadcast the news of my intent to head back to the river region this week, she returned a text expressing regret and saying she could be back up here after her dentist appointment Tuesday. Do I factor that in to the proceedings? I feel no obligation nor need to, but I do want to. My heart has long craved the collaboration. My heart has craved the collaboration for long enough that my mind receives it as a delusional fantasy grown in the depths of my broken childhood. There's what I want and then there is what I have to work with.

Still drifting with the flow. . . We see how the day grows.