Settler's Lane.
Our land is on Settler's Lane. My god, we could hear the ocean. How wonderful. I know how much that means to some people here, and I never dared to hope for that. It's so goddamn beautiful out there. Things seem to be settling with Gray. I noticed that Angelata was doing okay with him. They made some decisions about the block together. He complimented her on her pruning skills. We were in a little too much pain to go and see but the fruit trees have apparently responded brilliantly. It doesn't surprise me. I'm a terrible gardener myself, really quite dreadful, but all those Hinchinbrook chicks have green thumbs. So maybe this will be a way for them to relate? They shared three beers which they drank in the tin camping mugs. Not much was said, but I think there was some kind of sympathy between them. Maybe.
I wouldn't want to get too hopeful.
In any case, my own relationship with Gray isn't anything other than the usual skittish truce. Mannie and I have colluded to insist on the Own Room Thing Again. There are gorgeous new linens and an antique lampshade waiting for the spare room. It all needs tidying. Sorting. Organising. Oh, how hideous. The new linens are for the single bed we plan to put in there and the lampshade has two err... lampshades.... on so we will have one pointed to give light to our writing and one to give light so we may read in bed. We'll move our wardrobes in there too. We still need a desk - the camping table is useless. We've been needing this for a while. You know, room of one's own and all that.
I had planned (with Angelata) to drive to Bigsplat myself and buy all this stuff, last Thursday, but Just Jo insisted on talking it over with Gray and in the end he came with us, and was Really Quite Helpful. (We wouldn't have bought the lampshade without his encouragement - it was very expensive!) I know Angelata wanted to demonstrate something - her right to travel alone, her right to spend money. She has a tendency to go straight to ultimatum. This life that she and I lead, vicariously married, vicariously heterosexual, vicariously loved for what we most definitely are not, that is, given a kind of accidental love in the flesh, you know, that same old tale of woe we have which is true but not true, well it wears a lesbian down sometimes, even a resilient and brilliant lesbian like me, or Angelata, and we do sometimes grow tired of being so gracious about it all. We sometimes would like to get in the car and drive a long way away and stay overnight in a roadside motel. Just Jo tells us we're Not Going Anywhere but we've already come to that conclusion. We can't run away from each other. So, Angelata and I won't be running away together either, except perhaps across the hall to the spare room.
There's a glimmer of hope here. Truly. Surely.
I wouldn't want to get too hopeful.
In any case, my own relationship with Gray isn't anything other than the usual skittish truce. Mannie and I have colluded to insist on the Own Room Thing Again. There are gorgeous new linens and an antique lampshade waiting for the spare room. It all needs tidying. Sorting. Organising. Oh, how hideous. The new linens are for the single bed we plan to put in there and the lampshade has two err... lampshades.... on so we will have one pointed to give light to our writing and one to give light so we may read in bed. We'll move our wardrobes in there too. We still need a desk - the camping table is useless. We've been needing this for a while. You know, room of one's own and all that.
I had planned (with Angelata) to drive to Bigsplat myself and buy all this stuff, last Thursday, but Just Jo insisted on talking it over with Gray and in the end he came with us, and was Really Quite Helpful. (We wouldn't have bought the lampshade without his encouragement - it was very expensive!) I know Angelata wanted to demonstrate something - her right to travel alone, her right to spend money. She has a tendency to go straight to ultimatum. This life that she and I lead, vicariously married, vicariously heterosexual, vicariously loved for what we most definitely are not, that is, given a kind of accidental love in the flesh, you know, that same old tale of woe we have which is true but not true, well it wears a lesbian down sometimes, even a resilient and brilliant lesbian like me, or Angelata, and we do sometimes grow tired of being so gracious about it all. We sometimes would like to get in the car and drive a long way away and stay overnight in a roadside motel. Just Jo tells us we're Not Going Anywhere but we've already come to that conclusion. We can't run away from each other. So, Angelata and I won't be running away together either, except perhaps across the hall to the spare room.
There's a glimmer of hope here. Truly. Surely.
posted by Polysemous at 2:16 PM
1 Comments:
i think its superfabuloso that you can hear the ocean! what kind of fruit trees? how is the fairy house? all the other grownup stuff it will work out. know how i know? cuz stuff just does one way or another! luvees ren
little kitten kisses for your booboo knew!
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