Neptune’s Yellow Sands

Hello again old friend, the slurring, the glossy eyes, the unreason, the distance, the suddenness of the descent.  Obsession over the character of others.  The rise of loneliness, the rapid fall into an abyss which takes time to get out.  That time again.  The moon cycles.  And you never learn because it happened once more. So much to deal with and balance and yet.  The same.  Analogies with trying to instruct AA about the rules.  No hitting no pushing no kicking no biting no throwing.  And yet. No drinking no smoking. And yet.  The human being. See you next month, same time, same maddening place.  Or maybe vow to make 2025 different?  Can you?   Nothing is impossible…

Don’t jump to them.  Or better yet, don’t tell others to do that.  In my experience it can lead to fairly catastrophic circumstances that spiral to places beyond your control. So here you are.  COSS in-person session. Car Accident.  Shock. Havana Club. Trump. In a landslide.   We survived another month, but can’t say it was unscathed. Still, progress in moving forward.  We’ll need to wait to see what else time has in store.  Please let the Salt Marsh Mazda tail light be the last penance for the trip to the Thames.  White Point next weekend should hopefully provide a nice break before the final run-in for 2024.  Book is coming together, Mama an boys adjusting to school routines, and work just about under control if you can get through a few of the next procedural unscathed.   Let’s do it.  Beware of time’s answers.  But do not fear them.  They’ve been good so far.

 Different blog, same Halloween tradition.  Cruise ship day so a totally different vibe to prior years, but there is always a wrinkle.  The year has flown by and we have our second parade in the books.  AA and JB rocking the dinosaur outfits, and splurging on the lobster nachos and double rum cider seemed the natural thing to do.  Well stuffed. Four years ago it was here you waited for the flight out to be married the night of Biden’s win.  Trump, incredibly, is on the verge of a return.  Please no.  Let’s banish him and his ilk to the past as best we can.  A new way forward.   Book completed, contest won, edits and website in the works.  That’s the big fun of next year, as the UARB files will be a slog but with an even temperament you can find a way to make it all click. Go enjoy the fog and the memories.  Time marches, and the new possibilities are to be savoured.  Well done, McMahon.

Interested to hear what this will be?  On the meeting with the parents?  The epilogue?  Nanny?  Something not even on the radar?  Worked out well to provide the advance copy…  actually just about moving up the ring and adding the pearls from his mom’s mom and showing affection and the epilogue being a tad long.  Easy fixes. More concerning is the return of the drinking and smoking since the Thanksgiving trip, which seemed to go well and yet.  The desire for wine on night one, switched to rum on night three, and all the old terrible signs - the glossy eyes, the slurred words, strange behavior with the boys.  Managed to avoid triggering an escalation before the inevitable passing out, upright watching some show. Need to be delicate in raising the concerns pre-London.  It’s the price you pay for the selfishness of the trip back to the Thames, but the sanity requires it.  I’m sure it will work out.  The guys need the wake-up call a...

Into the danger zone in terms of the month, so spot the warning signs and act accordingly to avoid disaster, please.  From failing to close the curtains (that are meant to be closed) to boiling over inside at the waiting around, the exhaustion of the parenting.  Not knowing when to print, when to wake, when to do anything.  Time for cuddling.  Swallow your pride and sense of what’s right, or you’ll be sorry, I’m telling you.  Rest well and good luck McMahon.  Don’t forget the AA meltdown en route to the drop today.  The fun of seeing the boys playing with each other at this stage, the way JB walks with shoulders hunched and arms outstretched and a smile.

 The posts are always the same, one month or so apart.  When I become (along with you people) a narcissist who doesn’t listen because the thoughts in her head are not spoken out loud.  Or are caged in such a way that it is too difficult to decipher.  Laughably common, apparently.  Stick the meme on a wall somewhere.  Every f’ing month.  Particularly as you try and take a night to do something for yourself and it backfires drastically.  London is a test case in weighing what measures are worth it, but still feel the sacrifice must be done.   I have to leave, so entitled, all the old classics.  Controlling, judgmental.  The keying off a word that will be thrown back in your face for decades.   Extreme. I swear.  The patience has been slowly getting better, agonizing time by time.  Never enough though, to overcome the illogic of it.  Big communication problems, ha indeed.  If you hadn’t asked about the vaccine ...