I've been tagged

According to the rules....

Each player of this game starts with the “6 weird things about you." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog. I was tagged by Regal.

1. I believe I was around 12 years old when I received a chain letter somehow. I was supposed to send a dollar to the first person on the list, send the letter to 100 people, and put my name on the bottom. I did that. My mom wasn't encouraging, but she helped me out by taking me to the library so I could make 100 copies of the letter. (That was the only place one could get a xerox back then.) I sent it to my few friends, to schoolmates I could barely call friends, to relatives I barely knew. I don't remember how I found that many people to send it to. Of course I didn't get any money, and I'm sure somebody told me "chainletters are illegal." I don't know why I'm doing this now....yes I do...because Regal is sweet. I'm not sure I know 6 bloggers I dare to tag this on.

2. I wear men's Ecco boots with skirts. Hey, I need really good shoes to support my weight and keep my ankles straight, and I look good in a skirt. I no longer wear pants, except on the rare occasion I join an exercise class.

3. I do not get jealous. Not only do I not get jealous, I love to help out with the relationships of my relationships.

4. I have had my hair cut by a hair stylist once in the last 20 years. That was not the time I had my hair cut short....I did that myself on a whim just before I turned 30, and my husband at the time helped me trim it neatly. Within 6 months we were divorced. I kept my hair short that year: one length to just under my chin. Within a year I met my love Steve. I stopped cutting my hair short. I didn't plan it that way. Now I joke, "Beware when a woman cuts her hair."

5. I think the TV show "My Name Is Earl" is quite profound.

6. I love kids but I don't have any, nor will I.

Who should I tag?

You're it: Nacho, Sinister Dexterity, Thomas Paine, Chez Bez. Gah, that's all I know. I can't even tag Steve, cuz he's on hiatus, or Krissy cuz I'm not sure she wants these worlds colliding. It's like that chain letter all over again...who have I spoken two words to in the blogging world and won't say "Who's Heidi and why is she sending me a chain letter?"

Email from Antarctica

I got email and photos sent to me from McMurdo Station in Antarctica. My friend Tina shared that she just finished survival school. This mom, adventurer, scientist, pacifist...I could go on...said, "The weather was very fine, clear skies and around - 9 C so we had plenty of opportunity for recreation, thus Amie and I built the meditation maze."



That and this next one are my favorite pictures she sent. The only way you know who's inside is by the name patch. That tickles me for some reason.



She confirmed for me that her patch says "United States Antarctic Program National Science Foundation." She said, "The local nickname for the parka is 'big red,' as in "you can use your big red as an extra insulating layer over your sleeping bag." She's using snowmobiles and airplanes to travel to different camps, and has email when at McMurdo, unlike her last expedition 14 years ago.

New York: Erotica in Chinatown

It just so happened that while I was in New York, a free reading of erotica was happening in Chinatown, so I went. I've liked reading Lusty Lady's column in Village Voice, and she hosts this monthly reading series at Happy Ending Lounge. My companion and I went different ways after seeing Wicked, he to check up on his 'stepson', me to find the library so I could look up just where the erotica reading was. For some oddball flaky pms-y scatterbrain reason I left the printout that I carried all the way with me from Portland back in the hotel room. This was a trip full of obstacles. Some would say the cosmos was trying to tell me something, or at least my subconscious. He said he would call me to find out where we would meet. (He didn't. Why couldn't he just say he didn't want to go? I could tell that, but he still acted like he would meet me. Sheesh.) Before he went the other direction, he pointed me to the library at Bryant Park. (Now I know that the entrance with the lions I found on my last NY visit is temporarily closed. This time I found the right door.)

That was an experience. Here in my Multnomah County Library visitors get a guest pass good for an hour. This was a research library of the NYPL system, and they simply gave me a card good for three years, compete with photo.



You sign up on the computer, are given a computer and a time, and a receipt prints so you don't forget. The guy before me leaves a few minutes early so I gain a few minutes. I go to the Village Voice website. The sex columns are blocked! Good grief, thanks to CIPA, this research library that needs federal funds, in which I don't see anybody under 25 years, has filtered web access. With a little creative googling, I find out the actual name of the reading series, and the blogspot page for In the Flesh is not filtered. Hallelujah. I guess that's what they mean when they say there are ways around the filters.

Now I knew where I was going and what subway to take and I only had about an hour to get there. I almost missed the door. This Chinatown was grungier and dirtier than Flushing Chinatown. The address led me down a narrow alley with the closed metal doors everywhere. I almost walked by, but I did see the address on the awning. I looked closer at the 2-way mirror doors. Was that a bar? Here in Portland the only places I know of with doors like that are the dirty movie theater and the dirty bookstores. Closer, closer, in tiny print, grey on silver, Happy Ending Lounge. The gatekeeper opened the door for me.

A dark hallway lined with candles led me to a tiny bar, hardly bigger than my living room, I thought. The walls were lined with velvety red cloth, padded. Three or four half-circle booths to my left, curved benches and little ottomans for seats. To my right, a curved wall with bench, little low tables and more ottomans. I asked a pretty blond with drink and open binder notebook if the seat next to her was taken. She gladly bade me sit next to her, and introduced herself as Christen, one of the writers. She was having trouble deciding what to read, because her book Baby Love wasn't exactly erotica, but did have some sexy passages. She was working on her first drink. I figured I'd better get one, since the show was free. Ten bucks, another buck for a tip. I decided since I wasn't really interested in drinking I would nurse that ten buck drink through the evening.

Christen was buoyantly hopping up and returning to her seat: to the restroom; to greet other people; to talk to the host, Rachel. Each time she returned, I picked up her binder notebook and handed it back to her, which earned me a "You're so sweet!" (Takes one to know one.) We developed a comfortable table-mate camaraderie. Her reading turned out to be last, and she admitted right up front that she'd had a couple of drinks so she didn't quite know how it would work out. She was fabulous, quite a performer, and had a funny sexy story about facing her libido's shyness by preparing to masturbate while nursing...but then the fedex guy rang the doorbell.

When I first arrived I wondered how few people they expected, since the room was so small, but we got cosy. There were 6-8 people on our wall bench, where I thought there would be 3 or 4. There were about a dozen people standing near the restrooms. So I would say there were around 50 people in the space, everybody happy and sexually charged by the readings. It didn't hurt that Rachel scored free cupcakes for us, and handed out books she'd got for review. I scored a whodunit mystery with lesbian romance...I can't remember the title because I read it on the plane, and when I finished it I donated it to the Friends of the Library.

Some of the writers were simply readers, some with really great writing, some just ok. Some were performers. I was especially impressed with Mo Beasley and his team of performance poets, as were we all. Christen and I shared a moment of lustiness for Mr. Beasley. He was so fine...and talented. I was thinking it was a good thing my companion didn't show after all. Should I ever visit New York again, I would look for the Urban Erotika performers.

I also especially liked the writing of Stephen Elliott and Jami Attenberg. I told Christen I couldn't believe this was free! I was happy I had the chance to sit next to her.

HNT #8: Sleep Apnea and the View

I'm still watching The View after a month and a half. I understand the show's ratings have gone way up since Rosie O'Donnell joined the show. love her! My favorite part of the show is the Hot Topics section. Get any 4 women together around a table and a cup of coffee or tea, and will the talk not inevitably turn to sex in some way? More on that on The View, later.

I am more hooked on Rosie's blog. Towards the beginning of my reading it, a couple of her fans mentioned her snoring and urged her to get checked for sleep apnea. Rosie said she could never fall asleep in a clinic. Another fan mentioned she could get it done at home. So Rosie finally did that, and they covered it on the show. Indeed she has sleep apnea, and sounds just as buoyant and amazed at how good she feels as I did when I got my CPAP machine. Rosie and her doctor worked with the Sleep Doctor, a sleep expert on WebMD. He was able to hawk his book, Good Night. Rosie seemed to want to blame her weight for the sleep apnea (good grief) but he, the good doctor that he is, managed to squeeze in that people who aren't overweight have it too, and to convey that sleep apnea can cause weight issues. It can also cause death.

People who snore, especially loudly with a snort, must get that checked in a sleep clinic. Don't be embarrassed! Rosie talked about how she was embarrassed and wouldn't go to the doctor. Steve and I think too that because a person's brain is addled from sleep and oxygen deprivation, there is a weird denial that happens.

So here I am, showing my naked medically treated self at night, wearing my mask that blows air from my CPAP machine into my throat, keeping the airway open while I sleep. I call the notion of sleep without my CPAP "fake sleep" because when your airway closes, you never fall asleep deeply enough for REM sleep. Happy and well-rested HNT all!

Babysitting Toddlers.

Last week I had twin boys for guests while their dad went to an appointment. Their mom is in Antarctica, part of her job as a glaciologist at Portland State University. It is my hope I will be among the 'favorite aunties'. These two year olds are climbers and explorers, but they've been quite respectful so far when they come to visit. Their daddy was surprised they didn't try to go after the cat, but Tim and Sam remembered the kitty could get scared easily.

The boys also remembered "the drawer". (They've only visited my house once before.) In my library I have a telephone chaise. The built-in end table has a drawer where I have stashed all my little toys I've collected here and there. Silly putty, little canisters of play-doh, party noisemakers, prizes from the Wunderland arcade. They especially like the little cars and trucks that are the fragile plastic prizes found in Kinder Surprise Eggs.

The library is the cat's hiding place when anyone comes to visit. We were very very quiet when we went in there to check out the drawer. The cat did a cat-slink out the door and cowered in the next room near my desk. Funny thing was, the boy that Daddy thought would miss him didn't say a thing. The other said several times, "When's Daddy coming?" I assured him Daddy would be back soon. When Daddy finally came back, he didn't want to leave.
They also like to pull things out of my coffee table. Since I tend to cover all vertical surfaces with nests of paper and things, this glass-topped table works out fairly well. I get to display my (and Steve's) little doodads, and I have reason to keep the top surface fairly clear. I just put the bowl and the incense burner with sand up out of the way and let the boys check it out. Funny thing: I've been nervous they could break the glass, but around the time they left, I set something down near the edge and clinked the glass just right so I was the one who chipped the edge.

I'm thinking I'll have to make a trip to Lippman's, the local party supply store, and pick up a few new toys for 'the drawer.' Interestingly, they did not check out these drawers in the coffee table. I imagine I'm living on borrowed time there. Also with the climbing...they haven't yet tried climbing my kitchen drawers.

New York: Wicked, and Flushing Chinatown

I disappointed my buddy because I didn't remember who played Elphaba in Wicked. He was horrified when he thought for a moment that I didn't remember which character that was. (This is the friend who told me several times he would take me to see Wicked in Portland, but then he didn't. ...no...i won't stop pouting...) For the record, Elphaba was performed by Ana Gasteyer but as I told my friend, I thought Glinda was better, Kate Reinders. I would have to say the highlight of my October visit to New York was the Museum of Natural History, but this came a close second. It could well be my favorite Broadway musical so far, so it is pretty neat that I first saw it on Broadway. (ok ok, I guess I can stop pouting...though it would have been nice to see it twice) My NY friend (friend?) also thought Glinda was the best. I finally gave my Portland friend the black Wicked sweatshirt I purchased by request for his lovely wife.

Before we entered the theater for the matinee showing, we had lunch at the restaurant right next door, Azalea. I had a yummy salad with watercress, avocado, artichoke hearts and a lemon dressing. The Parmesan cracker was amazing, gotta love melted and hardened cheese, but too much even for me. He had a salad with fresh mozzarella and grilled zucchini, and a rum and coke, "Since you're buying" he said. While walking earlier through Times Square he pulled out some coupons for Subway. I wasn't going to eat something I could get anywhere, and wasn't going to eat in front of him while he salivated, so I offered. Sad thing about Times Square, most of what you saw were places like Subway, MacDonald's, and S'barro. Steve and I talked about that later, how it must be that those are the only kind of food places that can afford the real estate. I was glad to find this place right next to the theater, or I was going to be starving by the time we got out. My companion shared a taste of his mozzerella. I told him it was possibly the best I'd had. He told me cheese in New York is like drugs, or a secret society. You have to go to the back of the store and ask for it and they don't give it up easy.

Part of my vacation turned into a pilgrimage of sorts. I stayed in Flushing Chinatown in Queens.



A few short blocks away I found buildings from early Quaker history in the New World. In the mid-1600s Flushing was known as Vlissengen, and was part of New Netherlands. The Society of Friends were jailed for holding meetings, yet they persisted. I came across the Bowne House, built in 1661 and the first meeting place for the Friends.



John Bowne refused to pay the fine when arrested for the offense of hosting the Meeting of Friends, and he also refused the opportunity to escape jail. His civil disobedience and subsequent petition in Holland to the Dutch West India Company earned the Quakers the freedom to practice their religion in New Netherlands. In 1692 John Bowne donated land for a graveyard and a meeting house site. The Meeting House, established in 1694, is still in use by the Society of Friends Meeting for Worship. I found out these places existed from the yellow pages.



The Society of Friends holds a special place in my spiritual history. When I first moved here to Portland, my first husband and I attended Meeting For Worship. An elder led a class series on a study of Buddhism, and she entered my dreams as a member of my Teacher pantheon.

Around the corner from my hotel I found the Happy Buddha Vegetarian Restaurant.



Brown-robed monks congregated in the back for their dinner. I missed them, but my companion saw them. We got a platter of appetizers with faux eel, faux duck, tofu in disguise, and very good spring rolls. He got sticky rice, and I wish I had. It included some tasty mushrooms. I could have gone back to try more of the intriguing vegetarian menu.

Next to the restaurant, the Happy Buddha Condominiums, and three doors down, the Temple of Mercy Charity.



I was urged to step inside to bow and to snap my picture by a sweet Chinese lady.

Books Read

(these book lists are really to help me remember i read them. ah for the younger days when i remembered the things i read.)

Bloody Bones by Laurell K Hamilton

An Anita Blake Vampire Hunter novel. Still has those sexy BDSM undertones. I imagine I'd find a certain type of person at the scifi conventions who just loves these books and mostly goes there to get laid. There's a really neat afterword by the author, written 10 years later. She looks back and sees how this book really changed the direction of the relationship between Anita (vampire hunter) and Jean-Claude (vampire master of the city). She also talks about how she sees her own personal process through her writing. She also points out how this book is the first one with an actual sex scene and how some readers don't notice it (I did) perhaps because it wasn't the main characters. It was very SM-laden.

Find Me by Rosie O'Donnell ....got that covered

Tithe by Holly Black

I read this before, but I checked it out because I wanted to skim and remind myself of the story before I start on Valient, the sequel. I skimmed for about 5 pages, then found myself simply reading. It's a teen fantasy skating along that dark edge of faerie. Great for those social outcasts, which are, well, all teens. It has a little bit of romance, fairy tale ending of course, a little bit of adventure, and the most important ingredient of all, special powers and magic.

Witch and Curse, books 1 and 2 of the series Wicked by Nancy Holder and Debbie Viguie

Purely witch fantasy escape fiction. Holly comes from a long line of powerful witches but she doesn't know it. Her parents and best friend die because of it, and a Montague/Capulet battle ensues along with a doomed (or is it...more books may tell) Romeo/Juliet love story. Epic magic battles rage on land and sea, seen as great storms and killer whales by the regular folk. I read this because I found it while looking for fantasies for teens as I was working reference. Of course what I found was the 2nd book, and I had to send away for the 1st. There are better books like this out there (confirming my reluctance to read books by 2 authors) but if someone is already hooked on this genre, it's good. The series Sweep by Cate Tiernan probably a better example of the genre. It certainly seems to have a greater fan base.

Falling Free by Lois McMaster Bujold

Came across this from someone on my college alumni list. Straight science fiction about orbiting space stations and the humans engineered genetically to live in such places. Many of those books written by men miss some of the subtle interconnected details that are implied by these future worlds. This one includes a rather condemning outcome from capitalist amorality. Very classic, with the main character a crusty engineer type.

HNT #7: Headed to Bed

Osbasso, creator of Half Nekkid Thursday, featured his fresh-out-of- Bed Head today. Mine is what the mirror sees as I get ready for bed, brushing my teeth, etc. No one else sees that, really, though some people might get a similar view for other reasons. See how my hair is in a braid? When I was younger I used to braid my hair to get it up off my neck when hot. Now I wind it up in a bun. Often while at work at the library the handiest hairstick is a pencil. (pencils work the best, too) How librarian-ish is that?

Now, I braid my hair just for bed. I have to, and have been doing so since I was about 18. My hair is a tangled mess in the morning if I don't. Sometimes I remember the show Little House on the Prairie when I do that. Ma Ingalls had her hair up in a bun during the day, and her very long hair in a braid at night.

Find Me

On the plane to New York, I read Rosie O'Donnell's book Find Me. I'm still watching The View because of her, and am addicted to reading her blog. How'd she get to be so wise? I had to know.

In this book, Rosie talks about believing things happen for a reason, and how sometimes she just knows things. Other times, not as deep, but profound, she has spingles. Spine tingles. When she recognizes those significant times, she feels compelled to follow up. In Find Me she tells of an obsessive quest to help a young woman. She recognizes a certain narcissism in wanting to be a superhero, sometimes to the detriment of her own family.

All the while reading this, I found myself thinking, but of course you're a bodhisattva! I found myself composing the short emails to her blog, thinking if it was meant to be, she would find me among the thousands of other messages. How I would tell her a bodhisattva is an enlightened codependent. She says several times in the book that she is not easy to love, with this obsessive superhero complex. I have to wonder though, if that has changed, or really, what her love Kelli would say to that.

Here I was travelling to New York on the basis of one of those spingle moments, thinking that if this man and I met for a reason, I was going to find out. I couldn't turn away, I had to investigate, and here I was reading about someone else's ability to obsess, turn it over into greater understanding, and come through it with a meaningful friendship. I hoped I would too.

Last Sunday I met two of my best friends for lunch. We'd all missed each other this summer, since my work on Sundays kept me away from our rendezvous. My homie asked me how my New York trip was. "A mixed bag." I managed to say it without a quaver. I wasn't quite ready to talk about it I thought.

But my homie wasn't going to let me get away with that. I told her about the confusion and hurt when he said he'd meet me, but wouldn't show up. About the constipation when the toilet wouldn't work and I had to put the brakes on my emotions. My other friend advised kindness for myself. I told them about reaching the understanding that if I chose to be angry and bitter it would make me a smaller person, stunted, but that if I chose to keep my heart open to love I could continue to expand my self, embrace love, love all. All three of us teared up in the noisy restaurant, a small bubble of intimacy among strangers. I was glad my friends could understand that was my kindness to myself. We laughed over my starting out wanting to tell them of the 'good things' like the musical "Wicked" and the erotica reading and the Museum of Natural History, but that the 'bad things' turned out actually to be the 'good things' of the trip.

Yesterday I talked to my homie again about a dream I had. I confessed that as I do with strong feelings, I'd been requesting my dreams to tell me what's up with this. Why did I persist? Why the strong connection? All that time, I could not remember my dreams. I haven't been sleeping well due to back pain and allergy issues. That night, I didn't ask that I could remember, but yesterday morning I had a long dream that I knew was significant. My friend is going through a profound transformation of her own right now, and I asked for her help with her wide open state of mind. Together we realized that

1. I put myself out there in the world as my real self, knowingly. Even if I felt like covering up, cleaning up that messy self, that way is closed to me. [I was walking in the mall in my bathrobe. I knew and didn't care. But then it occurred to me that I might be smelly and my robe dirty and I didn't want to bother others with that so I decided to buy some clothes to wear home. Too late the gates were pulled down on the stores, the mall was closing.]

2. I am making a practice of this love of all, seeing where it leads even with someone far away, but I didn't do that with my family. I got out of Wisconsin, away from my birth family. I had to. I'm sure I knew on some level that it might be easier to chase love far away than to chase love on my own childhood's doorstep, but I confessed to her I probably didn't want to know that. [In the dream I went from the mall in a giant pickup truck that is my brother's, and he is with me when I get to the hilly neighborhood with winding curvy streets. We come across a time traveller (I am a time traveller too) in the body of a dog, too late I realize my nephew Zac was time traveling too and the dog was trying to warn him. My brother and I turned to the dog, too late. Something happened to my nephew and he is dead, injury irreversible in time travel.]

My friend commented it was too bad I couldn't extend this practice of love closer to this home. I said I am, but that in this man's case the love found me and I couldn't turn away, that I have managed to walk that fine edge of remaining open to love but not falling head over heels into love. I was glad that made sense to her, and that she accepts that I am capable of both and many kinds of love.

I could and I do need to make greater effort to reach out to my nephews. That is a long distance love it has been too easy to take for granted, and I need to take care, at least as good a care as I do for this stranger in New York. I have not come out to my birth family as polyamorous and bisexual. In some ways, many ways, they are strangers to me. That was another lifetime, and my nephews grew up without me. It has been vital to me to be honest with a stranger who I would be sexual with, but it has not been vital to me to reveal this truth to my family. No need to shock my grandma, and probably not my mom. If I knew my nephews better, perhaps they need to know me better...something for me to think about.

Incidentally, in Find Me, Rosie transforms some deep scars regarding her mother's death through her obsessive superheroish love. Today on The View her best friend from the age of 3 said that what people might not know about Rosie is how generous Rosie is. When cohost Joy said, "The world does know," Jackie said, "No, you don't." Rosie shushed her. She doesn't want the world to know what a tremendous superhero giver she is. Another bodhisattva clue, I would say. She sees the selfishness in her love, as I do mine, but she keeps turning it over for the benefit of the world, as I try to do mine. She doesn't want the accolades for giving, she doesn't do it to feed her narcissist self.

HNT #6: Eyeglasses

I was feeling sort of narcissistic and silly about posting another HNT, but I clicked through the 122 HNTers before me, and I felt better about it. What is blogging but at times silly and narcissistic? Certainly some of my resistance may be because I feel like hiding a little, still licking my wounds a little. But, looking through the others, I am inspired to be silly and to come out of hiding.

I got new glasses this week. Another HNTer posted eyeglass pics here, so I thought, why not, we've got our mini-theme for the week. It took me a couple of days to get used to the ground appearing closer to my face. My vision took on that warpy feeling like when you're just starting to get tipsy. I could see individual leaves at the tops of trees. My prescription didn't change much, they say. In fact it's wobbled back and forth the last ten years. I've wondered if there's really been no change, and it just depended on how awake I was at the time of the vision test.

My frames have also wobbled back and forth for the last 5 years. You see, in 2002 I discovered rhinestones. I felt the need for a peace pin, being surrounded by so many flags on lapels, cars, windows, homes, etc. I found a rhinestone peace pin on ebay. Peace pins weren't easy to find at that time, apparently others had the same idea. The sparkle caught my eye in the mirror one day, and I had to get more. Who knew I had some crow in me, I don't really wear jewelry.

So then I found vintage unused frames on ebay, the first pair black. Two years later, the same seller still had some. The second pair same style but brown:



I figured he was going to run out soon, so I bid on another pair, black again, this one a quarter inch smaller. (I paid less than $25 for each unused frame.) Sometimes I think maybe I'll turn into one of those old ladies that still has her same eyeglass frames from the fifties, or the seventies. People won't be able to recognize me if I actually change my frames. Shouldn't I branch out, change my style? I work half-time in a library, and I would say at least a couple times a month somebody tells me, "I love your glasses." A couple more times a month, some stranger on the street says the same. So I keep them. I glanced around at the eyeglass shop. All the frames looked exactly alike. Who's going to say "I love your glasses" to that? Nobody notices the switch, black to brown, to black:



The first photo is cropped from this in my hotel in Flushing, Queens. Do I look sad, or just serious?



Felicityattheling with her artwork inspired me to start talking about it here. This is what I do, get emotionally naked. So often we humans carry around our despair, our unhappiness, our fears, our anxieties, all alone, and we think we're alone in our experience. In the past I hid from others and myself, this out of fear. I came out of hiding among the right people and in the right place, and that fear lost its grip on me. I resonated with Felicity's art: I too felt the fear of being alone. I felt what I thought was love, but really it kept me from loving fully. When I no longer was afraid to be alone, that is, when I had enough confidence and love in my own self, that fear no longer blocked my full loving potential.

Now, many years later, I love to love. Each new experience teaches me how I can love without expectation, without conditions. If violence begets violence, love can only beget more love. I have faith in that. So when I met someone in New York that seemed to have the possibility of a deeper connection, I couldn't turn away even though I am wary of long distance relationships. Well, I hadn't seen all I could see in NY either. And airfare was so cheap. So I went. And he spent some time with me, but he blew hot and cold. He would say he would meet me, and not show after all. That evening I had a choice, to become angry and bitter over being hurt, or keep my heart open to love. I chose love. The moment we met we touched something greater than either of us. I would not spoil that by closing off my heart. I wouldn't let him either. At the Polyween party, Darklady pointed out that people are skittish when encountering polyamory for the first time. I was forgetting while I wasn't completely trusting him, he is probably not trusting me either. She counseled patience.

The great thing, keeping my heart open, not closing off, I come home to my best sweetie with more love than ever.