The Foo Weather Report

I was just on the phone with Navarre, who is on his way back home after a couple days away.  Due to time and logistical concerns I won’t see him until he travels down to my house tomorrow morning.  I’d like to see him sooner, but it wouldn’t make much sense for me to travel up to his place tonight.  Oh well.  Distance stinks, but he says it’s not the distance that’s the issue but the fact that we want to spend time together.  If we didn’t care to spend time together it wouldn’t matter how far apart we lived.

I really do have trouble dealing with too much time home alone.  I realize now how completely insane I was before Navarre came into my life.  I go crazy here stewing alone in my own juices.  The house and yard may be en route to being pristinely clean, but up until I started with the gin cocktails I felt like I was tearing apart my own insides as I steeped in my own craziness.  I get bored without attention.  Boredom makes me view things too creatively in order to find them interesting.  I know if I were a normal rational human being I could keep myself perfectly entertained and occupied with intellectual pursuits, but the fact is that I am a childless thirty-year-old woman who has a primordial need to be occupied with taking care of her man.  When I am with him and caring for him I feel I am on the correct trajectory, toward arms full of blue-eyed babies.

Yes I am crazy and silly and I’ve had a few gin cocktails.  Hm.  I fear overseas deployment based on two major concerns:  (1) I don’t want to be a young widow, (2) I may really lose it if left alone for so long.  I told him if he is deployed I want to be pregnant before he leaves.  I think that would be necessary.  I want to be pregnant now.  No I don’t.  Babies can wait, be patient little ones.  First things first.  I’d like to be engaged in the next few months.  I don’t know that I’ve put it to him that way.  Maybe I should.  He tends to not be able to remember things unless I tell him and make sure he writes them into his calendar.  He’s so unaware of time; I am hyper-aware of time.  I’ve had to turn to many independent sources to reconstruct the events of his life prior to our meeting.  He is aware of “years,” vaguely; I know exactly how many years and months.  I get more hung up on his past than he does because I know how short a time “months” are.  He just knows “past.”  After eight-and-a-half months our two versions of time are becoming reconciled.  I am finally able to accept that past is “past” and that the present transcends.  I guess it says more about me than him that I don’t understand how someone can get over a heartbreak in less than three or four years’ time.

He said he saw rain clouds heading toward New Hampshire.  And now, at last, it is raining!  My garden hose and I will not have our special time together this evening listening to EWTN podcasts.  I think the great crab-apple tree out front is smiling, so happy it is to have rain.