K: Rubber

I'm here with you today on a Sunday midmorning because there isn't anything else I feel like doing. I slept a bit late because we had a late night, and while I have some writing on the go I'm not particularly up for any of it today. I'm on hiatus from X-Cerpts, my usual weekend activity, ironically because the pace of life was getting to where I simply wasn't finding the time to do what I wanted with it, and I thought, I've been driving myself pretty hard for the last year or so, let's take a step back, as I often do.

It's important to capture this moment because last night was really great. Thursday, Mel and I managed to nab some discount tickets to Six, the musical about the wives of Henry VIII, for Saturday. It's leaving town next month and I was worried about FOMO because I'd heard it was good and Mel wanted to see it and it all just worked out (some of Mel's friends from BoPo had gone the night before, but it was so last minute she couldn't join.) Anyway, aside from a few dry plays I went to to support friends I've never had a bad time in a theatre, it's just cool to see talented people singing and dancing and putting on a production. The thing was pretty unique, I expected it to be more narrative, but the thing took the form of a revue/sing-off with the girls telling their stories to each other and us. Great show, I particularly liked the actress playing Anne Boelyn, who really gave. I listened to a bit of the original cast recording later and it paled in comparison. Which is kind of sad and beautiful when you think about it -- I'll never experience that performance again, it will have to live in my memory (which is famously bad.) But that's literally the point of live theatre.

It was a chill-ish day otherwise, Mel spent the day doing PD (she has to finish up a few more hours to maintain her certification) and I did chores, read and did a bit of writing. We took the train at about 4:45 and went to Jack Astor's for dinner, getting the nachos. When we got there it was a bit crowded with Leafs fans. We had debated whether we should call ahead, and I opted not to, figuring if we couldn't get in we could probably go somewhere else. Mel did agree at that time but I guess when we got there we felt so intent on getting those Jack Astor's nachos that she was a little frustrated that I hadn't gotten us a res. I didn't really say this but I think part of the reason I was reluctant to reserve was that there were a lot of variables in getting there and I didn't want to pin down a time. I probably should have bit the bullet though, but we ended up being seated straight away so it all worked out and all the static diffused.

Before the show even started we were talking about how fun it was and how we could probably stand to go "once a quarter." At those discount prices sure, although it can be an expensive hobby otherwise. We do have a connection with Tony's membership, and he's offered (but he couldn't get us anything for this because of the lateness.)

We had even been out earlier this week. I was home Thursday (more on that later) and we were trying to think of what to do for dinner and Mel said she was feeling sushi. Now, we ate sushi probably every week for a year or two, and then got tired of it, plus we have salmon every week, so that was a little surprising, but there is a sushi place in the neighborhood that re-opened and we hadn't tried it yet. So we decided to make a night of it and go out and do all-you-can-eat for the first time in years. And you know what, it was really good. Pricey, but good. We even ordered pretty much the exact right amount, and got to try lots of different things instead of just getting safe rolls (Mel wanted noodles and we got the beef-mushroom wraps, for example.) Like I said, it was a little pricier than just ordering the ushe, but I think we also got more out of it, so it evens out. We even got a dessert of fried Oreo. (I was proposing that we split an ice cream too, but I realized I had forgotten to grab her lactaid even though I had literally gone back into the house for it before we left -- Scott's brain fails him again.)

Last Sunday we went to mom's for dinner, the much-delayed prime rib. Eric was unable to join us, disappointingly for Mel (and, I guess, me.) Mom asked if I was capable of cutting the prime rib (I am.) It was the usual stuff about the family, work, mom's dating life, and the past.  

The week was, well, a week. Going into the office remains sucky. I had an interview on Monday at Mel's company, which I have high hopes for, in that it would be my ideal working situation and hopefully could learn the job. Wednesday I had lunch with Tony. I miss that guy in the sense that with him no longer around, my lunchtimes at the office are very boring. I really feel the alone-ness and isolation of not having more than a surface relationship with the people at the office. You know, "What did you bring for lunch, how was your commute." Tony, bless him, was never one for pleasantries and small talk and if you asked him how things were he would fuckin' tell ya (famously.) Not everyone wants that speed but I found it refreshing and and endless source of mental stimulation. 

I stayed home Thursday, claiming to Maria that I had to take my car in. That's not the truth, but it's not not the truth. In reality, I had to take the car in on Friday, but on Thursday I went out to pick up the tires so that I wasn't running around on Friday morning. I also felt like, since I was going to be out of the house on Friday working from Mel's parents' place, I wanted to be home on Thursday as a trade-off.

Friday... bluh. Not that it was a problem to work from the in-laws, I was very welcome and everything, but I ended up getting some unfavorable news about the car. Things could be worse but I would rather not have to deal with it... but you know, this is part of being a grown up. I had a mini-crisis, not helped by Mel messaging me talking about how stressed she was at seeing old food products in the fridge. I would like to gently correct her perspective on that and empower her to throw it out without a fuss, but I have perhaps coddled her, possibly because doing so feels good for my self-esteem.

These are not necessarily healthy habits, but it's not like I think it's a problem.

The main thing is, she's overworked, so I try to minimize outside factors that stress her out, and I feel like a failure when I can't fully do so. I try to make everything easy for her, serving her and supporting her, and I know that sounds bad, but that's both my nature and the easiest way for our dynamic to work. And with me now out of the house so much, things have gotten rougher on that front, hence why I'm so desperate to leave Indigo (also, every day I get up and go to Toronto I spend the whole day feeling like my head's underwater and I just hate it and have an existential crisis after lunch.)

So you know, there's good and bad, and we feel all of it. I dread days when I can't offset the bad with good. Some days we just sit around feeling sad about what we have so far been unable to do in life. Some days we know we are making the most of it. The cause of suffering, after all, is desire, but in the end aren't we entitled to some desires? And therefore we accept suffering.

I just wish there wasn't quite so much of it.

So despite all that, you've kind of caught me at a good moment. We are thinking of hitting Williams Cafe today for breakfast, which should be nice but if we don't end up going I'm sure we'll have a lovely Sunday anyway.

Any day could be good.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

J: The Ride

How did a mild winter give way to a cold spring?

The place is in mild disarray, with some stuff where it shouldn't be and some stuff clean. It's become important to me to try to keep the kitchen as clean as possible. You know, it only takes maybe twenty minutes or a half-hour to do all the dishes from a night's cooking, but the work from home life often saw me neglecting this. Ditto throwing in a load of laundry. But things are changing by necessity.

At the beginning of April, the mandatory return to office began. I am not happy about it. We are not happy about it. It's nothing against the building itself or the people there. But when I am there I am tired and unfocussed, distracted by not only the abundant activity around me but thinking of ways to prop myself up: more coffee, more sugar, a little walk, pining for the return of the quiet room for a little nap, a needless trip to the bathroom just to be alone for a bit. I had it so good for so long and I appreciated every moment of it. Now my situation is in disarray.

"You're quitting," Mel would remind me anytime the topic came up. Yeah, wish we could afford that. I am looking for another job but my search has, admittedly, been slow to start and I have barely had any energy these last two weeks to be a person let alone look out for my own interests. I'm always going from place to place or thinking about how I'm going to get there. I feel very dehumanized. I know that sounds dramatic but those thoughts have become the background thrum of my life. It didn't feel good just before the pandemic and it feels way, way worse now. Back then I was literally only coming from a few blocks away, a short jaunt on a streetcar.

With that, Mel is left alone all day, which she does not like. If it were just her lounging around living her life I'm sure she could manage somehow -- not great but no tragedy. But they're working her to the bone and she needs help getting food and with tech support and moral support. Things are not great at the Heimpel Williams House these days but it's not for lack of trying.

This week felt like two weeks because the office stuff punctuates the time so oddly. On Monday was the Eclipse. Mel wasn't able to see it because she was stuck leading a call for work, and we both feel really bad about that. Out of deference I didn't look much but I did go get a picture of the totality. Imagine not being able to experience a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event because you're stuck doing your part for the wheels of capitalism. Ugh. We're trying to move past it.

That evening we went to see a friend of Mel's who she met through our surrogacy process. I admit I have not always been the most active in the quest, mixing it up on social media and whatnot, but it's only because I find that part so draining. Mel though, would be more drained if she did not. She is jittery and needs to be active. Which is good in this case, I just hope she doesn't resent me for not matching her pace. I feel like she's got it covered and I am there to do my part when needed. Anyway, Rippun lives in Oakville, where he just moved with his partner Brian; they are expecting a child any day now. We walked around the trails then went back to their house to sit and chat. He had a lot to say and really hammered home what an immense project this is. It's not as easy or clean as signing up and being delivered a surrogate. There is so much. It is overwhelming, crushing at times, and this would be if there were nothing else going on in life. How do we live? Sometimes we just put it away for what feels like days at a time, and then it comes roaring back and we feel bad for having neglected it, but what else is there? Keep scrolling, keep posting, keep mingling, someone is out there. We had a close encounter a few weeks ago that gave us some hope. It didn't pan out. Mel's takeaway is somewhat negative -- that it will be hard to get that close again. My takeaway is that we're only one day away from meeting the person on any given day.

Mel has a lot of fears about the viability of the situation. I have those fears too but I can't let them consume me. There is nothing we can do but proceed down this path as we have begun to do, and to do our best. And I told her, whatever we are doing is our best, at any given time. What we have the energy for, what we have the resources for, what we judge to be the best use of our time and effort. Whether we do another round, whether we...

I'm going to leave it right there. I stopped mid-thought to do other sruff and I lost momentum, but you get the picture. Maybe I'll tell the story later of my Ferris Bueller day.

Life.

Keep on rockin

Scott