There is no pressure for this holiday. It's a weird one. Not many people get it off. What are you supposed to do to celebrate it anyway?

I made breakfast for my family, packed them all a lunch, my son and I changed his bike inner tube, and they were off! They all have school/work.

I did some cleaning, walked the dog, took a long bike ride, and went grocery shopping. I mixed up some bread dough to rise. I had a nice caprese salad on the porch in perfect fall weather. I talked to my (retired) dad on the phone. I checked the bread dough and baked cookies. I have some household chores I want to get done and then I will make veal cutlets for dinner (I usually make meatballs and pasta for Columbus Day, but my family requested something different - no problem!) with a nice sweet potato and leek gratin (thank you, North American sweet potatoes for being discovered).

There is no shopping, decorating or expectation. This is my favorite holiday - my Christmas, I tried to explain to my dad.

Got several texts this morning from her dad. He's done, or rather, his wife is done and she needs to move out. His wife is threatening to leave, and as he put it, she helps pay the mortgage.

So where does she go? I have really enjoyed NOT having her at our house. It is SO much more peaceful. It's everything - the whole house is calmer. I have really recognized that I have some PTSD when it comes to her. I can't relax. I can't enjoy her. I am just waiting for the next thoughtless, harmful incident.

I buy low calorie ice cream snacks for myself. Right now in the refrigerator there are, no kidding, FOUR BOXES of various flavors of ice cream. And my diet ice cream treats. I don't have one every day. There was a bar in the freezer all weekend. And last night I went to go eat it. It was gone. In my head I thought, oh yeah, Anna was here. I have talked to her about this issue many times. Sometimes she actually argues with me and tells me that it's stupid to get so upset about ice cream. She does not get it. Why my ice cream? Is scooping ice cream really that big a deal?

You know, if it was just the ice cream I could deal with it. But the ice cream is symbolic of what it is like to live with her in total. She is totally oblivious that ANYone else exists or has needs or thoughts. She dominates conversations. She argues about my house rules. She takes things from every member of the family - coats, food, gum, pens - if it is out then it is fair game and she doesn't even get why that is a problem.

The upside of all of this is that I am relieved to know that her dad can't handle her either. I am not the common denominator here...

(This is going to be hard to describe because you actually have to see the room, but bear with me.)

On Fridays I work at the court house in what is called the Self Help Center. The idea is that an attorney sits at a desk in the court house and helps people with pro se forms - simple divorces, name changes, etc. Depending on who is there it can get more complicated. I have helped people draft motions or file answers, that kind of thing. There are no appointments.  It is just walk ins and I never know what issues I am going to get or how many people will stop by.  I look at paperwork and help people understand what is happening to them. I assure them that they have a fair judge, I nod when they tell me about their asshole ex, I suggest counseling or tell people to just move on. I refer them to attorneys and route them to attorneys who are fair and affordable and not assholes who won't return phone calls. Several counties have this type of center. And they all have their own office space at the court house. As in, they have an office just for them and the door locks. In my county I have a hallway. Seriously. I am in the fucking hallway in the clerk's office. I have a wall to the west, and the door is on the south, but the west and north are cubicles belonging to the employees of the clerk's office. Specifically, to the East there are two cubicles.

The door is supposed to be my door. But it is used by the other employees to come and go to the bathroom or vending machines. One of the women in the cubicles to the East gets really angry that I let people come in and wait (basically right outside her office). She gets mad when people are on their cellphones. She reminds me that she is trying to work. She has tried to ask people to move into the vending machine area outside the door while I am meeting with someone and they are waiting.

"For confidentiality," she'll say.

"There is no confidentiality. They're not my clients," I say to her. "You can wait right there," I say to the woman with her sister and their 2 kids and their cellphones.

So then cubicle lady goes into her cubicle and slams around her files until everyone leaves and there is a lull so she can come out and complain to me.

"I know. It's a shame I don't have my own office," I say. And then she slams back into her cubicle and lets me know that she is pissed off at me.

Now usually I am a nice person about shit like this. I get that my customers and I are loud. I get that it's annoying to have toddlers running around because they're bored. And you know what? Usually I try and accommodate people like that and manage disruptions.

But the reason I don't have my own office? The reason I am in a hallway? Is because they didn't want to give up their windows. I could have easily had a small office with my own door and they wouldn't have to be around me. But they wouldn't give up their windows.

So I sit here in the hallway with no windows and let my customers pile up and talk on cellphones while their kids run around. Because I think she's a bitch.

"So basically this is about people who drink too much and have affairs all the time," my son said, referring to The Great Gatsby.

I snorted milk across the dinner table.

---

He agreed to come to yoga today. (!!!!) He agreed to consider a trip to Indian Cave State Park to go hiking over the weekend.

"Or suggest something that is not Sit on the Porch," I said.

I'm thinking about opera season tickets and I know that he will not go with me.  I will ask anyway.

---

I've always thought that The Great Gatsby is about love - Gatsby's love for Daisy. Last night I started thinking about what a good marriage that Tom and Daisy Buchanan had if a good marriage is judged by couples that do things together and support each other. "They were careless people, Tom and Daisy- they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made."

I think I will swear off yellow Rolls-Royces.

I got to the race early.  I was nervous about the location (outside of town at a lake that I have only been to a few times).  I was worried about parking.  I was worried about getting my bike set up.  I got all of that taken care of and then I was standing around wondering where Shirley was.  Shirley is the one who got me hooked on swimming again and talked me into an individual triathalon in July.  Her proposal this time was that we do an Olympic distance team triathalon - she would swim, I would bike, and Laurel would run.  I worried (and articulated) that I was going to hold them back - Shirley and Laurel are nothing short of amazing at their sports.  They were competitive in college (which wasn't that many years ago for them!).

So one minute before the pre-race meeting Shirley strode up in sweats and stripped to her suit and pulled her wetsuit on.  It was cold.  It was windy.  Some pranksters stole the buoys that marked the swim route in the lake.  Shirley smiled and laughed.  She plunged into the lake with a smile, swam her mile, and came out with a smile.  I took her lead.

Technically I took her hand off.  She came out of the lake and we high fived for an exchange in the transition area and then I was off on the bike.  It was cold.  It was windy.  And there were lots of hills.  I had a well marked course though and I had two really good laps around the lake (26.5 miles at 15 mph on hills!  I am happy!).  I came into the transition after my second lap and tagged Laurel, who took off for her 10k.  She came in at just under 40 minutes.  (I told you she was fast!)

And?  We won the women's team division for the Olympic Distance Triathalon.  Our boss (who sponsored us) will be really happy.

I love triathalons.  I love the friendly competitors.  I love the different events.  I love the challenge of transitioning to different events.  I love that I have gotten to know these two women and I have learned a lot from them.  I want to be positive and relaxed and heck yeah, let's go swim in a lake, ride a bike around it and run.  There is nothing cooler than that.  I need to relax and smile.

My parents are in love with each other. Which, I have realized, I am jealous of in many ways. I have no doubt that they love each other more than they love me. I have no doubt that I will never have what they have - 40+ years with someone who loves and supports them.

I finished a book today that centers around a very sad, older couple. Their only son dies and they nearly lose each other over it. They separate and in the end they come back together. (It is not as formulaic and sentimental as that all makes it sound. It is nicely written.)

This week has sucked in many, many ways. Bill and I have been fighting this week.  I am stressed out at work.  My birthday plans got all fucked up due to my husband being out of town unexpectedly and I was pissed.  I turned 42 on Friday and while the whole week was bad, Friday was supremely bad (husband out of town, kid out of town, other kid with activity clear the fuck across town in the evening, car trouble that ended up meaning that the car was irrepairable and I rented a car only to realize when I was trying to input my credit card on the Expedia site that my wallet was in the van that my husband took out of town, and then there was just the small shit like not getting to go out to lunch with my husband because of a huge issue with our mortgage that took up the entire lunch hour that we were going to use to try and repair some deep disappointments and then when I got take out for myself and got the pad thai with chicken?  Yeah, it came with tofu.  And you know, I LIKE tofu, but I ORDERED chicken).  People I needed to step up did not. People I did not expect to step up did anyway. And I listened to friends I can count on to be there. When they offered support, I accepted. On Monday I had a friend who took me to dinner and enjoyed my favorite movie with me. I had work friends who bought me a cake anyway when I grumped around and they made it a point to tell me how much they like having me in the office. I have exercise friends who reminded me that I am an essential part of a triathalon team this weekend. I have a friend who went with me to a football game when I didn't think anyone else would. I had a group of female friends who planned a brunch for me today and we sat on the deck on a perfect fall day and ate potato/leek quiche and drank fall spiced sangria while we enjoyed easy company and conversation.

As I sat at the football game last night I noticed the couples. I always do. I see the moms and dads there together to support their kids at whatever school activity it is - even better is when the grandparents and/or aunts and uncles are there to support the kid. My kids don't have that. I don't have that. I feel isolated and strange in those situations. When a friend of mine found out that I was going to the game alone to watch my son play in the band she offered to come along. "You shouldn't go alone. And I like high school football anyway." It was genuine and loving. I said yes. We had a great time and surprised ourselves by getting into the game.

My life is not traditional. I embrace it and reject it at the same time. I had a tough week and was reminded that my life is also pretty awesome and that is in large part due to the awesome people in it.

My middle kid turns fifteen today.  My son, the youngest, turns thirteen in a few weeks and the thought makes me tear up.  No more kids.  Just teenagers.

As much as teenagers irritate me, I prefer them to younger kids in many ways.  My oldest got bored on Friday night and decided to make banana bread which she tweaked to add chocolate and nuts.  She even cleaned up after herself.  My middle kid went to see "Beasts of the Southern Wild" with me at the local indie theater and when the preview for the Ai Wei Wei documentary came on, she elbowed me and smiled.  "Can we go to that when it comes?" she whispered.  Hell yes.  And my son, recuperating from a football injury on my chaise lounge, straddles childhood and adult hood.  His body is the body of a man, but his face and mannerisms are still child-like.

She got a cool bike for her birthday - steel frame in a blue that nearly glows.  Brown wrapped handlebars and a brown leather seat. 

"It's not a Brooks seat, it's a generic Brooks seat," she explained. 

"You're such a hipster," her brother teased. 

"Well, yeah, maybe, but I think a real hipster would have a real Brooks seat.  I'm keepin' it real." 

"You're a punk rock hipster," I suggested.

We all laughed.  I loved them the moment they were put in my arms.  It was overwhelming, the wholeness of my love for my child.  The difference now is that I love them for the people they are and will become.  They are just fun to be around.

"We'd like to offer your client $MoreMoneyThanAnyOfferIHaveEverGotten," says counsel for Enormo Bank.

I pause and make my face look thoughtful.

"I think we're getting closer to a figure we can both agree on," I say calmly.  While ohmygodohmygodohmygod is going on in my head.

What a fucking week this has been.

This week I have two trials scheduled (divorce and eviction), an appellate brief due and a mediation with LaDiDahFancyPants Bank.  Not a typical work week for me.  I prefer hanging out at the homeless shelter talking about child support or listening to the mentally ill rant about being forced to take medication they don't want to take.

Yesterdays trial was pretty ding dong crazy.  I know more about El Salvador real estate descriptions than I ever wanted to know.  I got home exhausted.  I went to bed early, slept really well, and had difficulty getting up this morning.  While I am good at litigation ("Who is (Name of Mistress?)" "I refuse to answer."  "I would ask the court to instruct the witness to answer," I said, calmly.), it exhausts me.  I won the trial yesterday.  My client was happy.  My boss was excited.  And I feel like I could sleep for a week.

But I have shit to do.

Saturday was a crazy party at an old train station.  The crowd was young.  The music was loud.  The setting was surreal - lights and beautifully dressed people (it was the after party for Omaha Fashion Week).  I looked fantastic.  Cute dress - ruffled skirt and full length zipper in the front - flirty and fashionable and age appropriate.  Super comfy and cute heels.  But I had the problem that all white women my age (and younger) have.  Men don't like to dance.

An acquaintance, a poet that I met at a Winter Solstice Party, showed up to be my dance partner.  He took my hand and twirled me.  He kissed my neck and framed my hips with his hands.  He easily swung me through the crowd and made me feel graceful and beautiful.  I complimented his dancing.  He told me that Latin men are the best dancers because everything is either a merengue, a salsa or a cha cha.  As the bass from the house music, not exactly Latin-sounding, pulsed through me I laughed, but really, I recognized that this was authentic.  We danced for three solid hours.  We stood in line for the bathroom and he noted the "Citizen Kane" lighting coming in the top windows nearly two floors above us in the cavernous train station.  I felt myself melt just a bit at this nostalgic observation and leaned into him while we smiled at the light.  We sat outside on a cement step while I waited for my girl friend to finish talking to her friends and drive me home.  He tried to kiss me on the lips and tried to talk me into coming home with him where he assured me he would be a "total gentleman."  I felt a bit like I was at a high school dance, I realized, and I was acting like it.  Are 41 year-old women more or less responsible?

I got myself safely into my friend's car.

Things are not good at home.  I am lonely.  I miss being touched.  I miss the swoony feeling of having someone look into my eyes and smile.  It was good to be reminded of my sexuality and all the (potentially messy) things that go with it.