I’ve been feeling pretty lonely lately but avoiding making an issue of it.

Lonely enough that I was idly browsing the personals sites again, although I wasn’t contacting anyone. I didn’t see anyone interesting enough to outrank even the once-a-month date with Eric. But seeing his ad online last night brought me up short.

I called him, but he was already asleep, so I emailed him, basically asking, “What the hell, dude?” He says he’s sorry, but his job is so overwhelming that he just doesn’t have any time to give me. I’ll let it go at that, but if he has so little time, what’s he doing prowling for new women online? And how much time does it take, exactly, to make a phone call once in a while? I’m thinking he probably just didn’t like me as much as he said.

I really did like him, but I’ve had quite enough of being the only one to make an effort. I’m quite capable of having a decent relationship with a man who works 18 hours a day, but not all by myself. It takes just a little work on his part too. We had a lot in common, but interest in a relationship apparently wasn’t mutual.

Oh well, being single isn’t a whole lot different from dating this one.

It’s just me and Seamus this weekend, as his big brother is off to Boy Scout camp for a whole week. It’s good for him to be alone once in a while - his brother and step-brother torment the shit out of that poor kid and I know he likes to be the focus of attention now and then.

Right now, he’s into his brother’s legos - some belong to both of them, but the more complicated robot set is exclusively John’s, and he gets really possessive about them. As long as Seamus doesn’t get them all mixed up, what John doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

We took ourselves to see Pirates 2 yesterday. It was really pretty long, but very campy and fun. It was a good thing we went to see the early early matinee, as there was a line waiting to get in when we left the theater. By the time we got home from that and the errands following, the day was mostly gone. We spent the evening watching Dirty Jobs reruns and playing with the kitten.

And today we’ve already accomplished our giant to-do list. One mom, one kid, and one kitten under the sink fixing last weekend’s water line job was more than a little silly, but the job got done despite all of the help and now the fridge water flow is more than the pathetic trickles and spurts of someone with a bladder problem. No kittens were harmed in the making of this entry, although just barely (quit it with the toes, little beastie!)

Gramma’s still in the hospital but doing much better. Mom felt comfortable enough to leave her in their care for a night last night, but is back there now. They expect her to go home tomorrow. Mom said that once she felt good enough to ask for her crossword puzzles, they knew she’d be OK.

All that’s left on our lists for today is to play, maybe read a book, and nap as needed.

My family likes to cram all of the stress into one neat little package.

Gramma wasn’t home when Grampa died because she herself was in the hospital, getting checked out for various badness that couldn’t be put off any longer. We think that’s why he left when he did; to spare her the sight.

When Mom and my aunt both showed up to collect her, she wondered who was holding down the fort, but there wasn’t a fort any longer.

So on Monday, Gramma went in for her own surgery—turns out she had a great big mass blocking her colon. So far, they don’t really think it was cancerous, but the doctor removed it as if it was so they wouldn’t have to go back in later if that turned out to be the case.

This was her first major surgery, and between that and all of the stress over the last couple of months, she’s not recovering very well. She’s snapping at nurses and trying to walk to halls at night, neither of which is something that she’d normally do. Gramma’s pretty frail physicallly, but she’s a tough old bird mentally. She’s entitled to fall apart a little bit, but I hope that’s all this is—I remember my other Grampa having a distinct personality change at the end of his life, and I’m not really ready to face that with this one so soon after Grampa.

My aunt’s been up there for the last four days and my mom is going up today to spell her. It’s been a long few months for them too, so I volunteered to do a shift this weekend if they need me. I don’t know if Gramma would let me help her with the neccesary at home, but I can at least babysit her in the hospital and take some of the heat off of the nurses if I need to. It’s not like I’m a kid who needs to be protected from this any more, which I think has been my Mom’s unconscious attitude. I’m pushing 40, Mom! I can take some of the load! The dog and the kitten can look out for themselves for a couple of days.

It sure has been an ugly summer, family-wise.

This time, I called him.

I had some used construction fencing (you know, the orange stuff) given to me, and the first person that comes to mind when I’m salvaging used construction stuff is Cowboy.

He was glad to hear from me, and sure, he wanted it. He said he’d call me when he was done at the concrete place and we’d go have lunch. But my phone doesn’t work in the house and we totally missed lunch.

He came up to get the stuff anyway, and we had a nice little talk. For being such a non-touchy sort of person, he sure couldn’t keep his hands off of me (in a totally platonic sense, but this isn’t the sort of man who even does that.) I leaned on the window of his truck and he took my hand. Gave me a big ol’ hug and kisses both hello and goodbye.

He wants to have dinner some time. I carefully did not mention that I was seeing someone (because that? Is another story. One that annoys me.)

He probably just wants to catch up as friends, and that’s how I initially took it. But then my mind started to race away with me at night.

“What if he wants more?”

“What if he just wants a booty call?” (Which ain’t gonna happen, by the way.)

“What if he wants to try again??” (Be still my heart.)

So I lie there awake and run through all of the potentials in my head until it spins clean off my spine. And he probably just wants his friend back. I could hang with that. I could hang with trying again too, with letting my heart leap out there ahead of me, since I seem to be incapable of loving any man but him still.

I know this man’s timelines, and he’s probably thinking nothing more than a reunion of sorts, and in no time soon. What he sees as a casual get-together becomes a huge thing in my head. And it shouldn’t be. I mean, I want it to be, but I’d best not expect it or I’m just going to get let down. If I get to wound up about it, I’m just going to run him off.

I’ll spin back down to normal in a day or two; these contacts always get me all bothered.

When I moved in to this place seven years ago, I bought a very nice, barely used refrigerator from my ex’s aunt (who apparently had forgiven her husband for his mid-life crisis and was in the process of getting undivorced. I thought she was crazy, but what the hell, I got a nice fridge out of it.)

It has the ice and water in the door - can you even find a modern one that doesn’t? But this house is much older than the fridge, and the house wasn’t plumbed for it. Hell, the fridge barely fits into its spot, and you have to reach behind it to get to the light switch.

I’ve been meaning to fix that situation for years now. Since I took the day off but seem to have been stood up (but am not annoyed enough to just go on in to work) I decided to fix it today.

First things first, of course, and I had to set up the camera on the tripod with the remote to document this stupid project.

Then there was the clearing out of the cabinets, in which I discovered that I haven’t cleaned behind the fridge in seven years  ::shudder::. Now it’s balancing precariously on a magnetic letter “K” which I can’t seem to dislodge. Oh well, it’s not wobbling at least.

Then I delete several extremely unflattering pictures of me with my head stuck up under the cabinets, which, of course, means that my fat ass was hanging out. Not a good look for me. And my helper sitting right on my arm and batting at the drill wasn’t so useful either, but you try to get a picture of a black kitten in the dark while you’re drilling. Good luck!

Two trips to the hardware store later, and the water line is installed and flushed. It might be dripping a little under the sink, but not much.

The flushing of the line. I am not amused by the slow water, but with such bad pressure around here, I don’t know what I expected.

And then I have to put all of this shit away! Hey, check out the hair, which, although horribly frazzled from working under the sink, is a startlingly red color. Oops, that wasn’t on purpose. The same color that didn’t take last time transmogrified into red instead of brown this time. Whatever. And look! Still fat, but less so! The quit-drinking-so-damn-much-beer diet is working.

So any minute now, I expect to have ice. I shall celebrate by having a frosty adult beverage, I do believe. Diets don’t count when you’ve been contorted under the corner kitchen cabinet with a kitten “helping.”

This weekend was our friend Ben’s 11th birthday party. Again, there was a pool full of kids, but for the first time this year, I could let Seamus actually swim instead of just bob around the edges. He’s had two sets of swim lessons already this year, and if he’s not exactly graceful in the water, at least he can get from one side to the other now.

I took a bunch of pictures, but since many are of other people’s children, I’ll refrain from posting them all.

First, we had to admire Thomas’ new snake, who is a beauty indeed. Then there was swimming:

And diving:

And general goofing around.

There was pool baseball and actual pool (on a table) and some game that involved chucking soggy balls across the pool at each other. It was foolish to be in the line of fire for that one. But it was sure a fun day. Thanks Ben!

As promised, more kitty pics:

He likes to torment the dog through the window

And to torment our feet from under chairs. Monster!