September 11, 1998.

It has been a very odd day so far. And tonight Sister Sunshine is celebrating her birthday at a dance club specializing in "old-school house" and retro, so it promises to get a whole lot weirder.

At about 3:30 last night, I finally trudged off to bed, resigned on losing both the turkey cold cuts & the 4 litres of milk that I bought on Wednesday. At least my parents are coming through with some money, so I don't have to regret that I spent six of my last twenty bucks on rapidly spoiling food.

(My bed is far too large for myself alone. It cries out for sleepovers. And it made me especially lonely when I went to bed last night.)

And then at 11:30, there came a pounding on my window & the front door. Feeling more than a touch disoriented, I stumbled to front & opened the door. And what to my nearsighted eyes should appear, but Trevor in a black t-shirt, offering cheap beer. (Let the rhyme scheme begin! Maybe not.) Long story short, I ended up accompanying him an a meeting with his father over tuition. And not only did I get a free lunch out of the deal (nothing to sneeze at when you don't have any fresh milk, you know), but the 3 or so glasses of excellent beer worked with my general fatigue to make me hopelessly tipsy by 1 p.m. - a personal best, I think.

I'm trying really hard to remain emotionally neutral about Trevor's parents. It's such a potentially contentious issue that I try not to form a strong opinion of anybody's parents, but especially not when said parents are separated. It's too easy to say the wrong thing. But I must say that I was somewhat less than impressed when his dad gloated to his business associate that he'd convinced his youngest daughter to return to school by sending a notarized letter to "the ex" stating his intention to withdraw child support if the youngest didn't go back to school. I just find it irritating when parents exploit their financial power over their offspring. Especially when they use it to further emotional agendas unrelated to their offspring. But what do I know, right?

"It's all my fault 'coz I played that game
When I knew you were carrying another man's name."

But overall it was a good morning. Trevor brought me a present to take my mind off my financial woes...a copy of the new Big Sugar album, which Poet has been talking about the entire summer. I find it somewhat strange that all the major relationships in my life have been marked by Big Sugar (and all the boys have been Tauruses...but that's another kettle of stars entirely).

But despite this subtext, I was absurdly touched by the whole scene. I was standing in my doorway, my hair snarling up in the back, unshowered & bleary, feeling like something small & active had died in my mouth during the night, in short, with all my feminine wiles missing & disconnected, and Trevor didn't care in the slightest. And then he helped to mop up the water from the finally-thank-God defrosted fridge. I couldn't help but mentally compare him to my other Big Sugar-loving do-nothing food-mooching boys (which I mean in the nicest possible way (snort)). For once, I felt that it was okay to tell him this & therefore mention the forbidden topic of Previous Relationships.

I find this section very difficult to write overall. All three of these boys (Mr. Blonde, Poet & Trevor) read this page, and I have to tread a middle ground between what I feel comfortable telling each of them. And I try not to write about how happy I am with Trevor, because how many variations can I work on that basic theme? But just to be blunt for once, he's so sweet that you've all prolly got tooth decay just from reading my writing of the last few months.

Sorry.

Do you guys miss me yet? I miss you.

one year ago today: I act heretically