Coping with Coping

I haven't been sleeping well. I can fall asleep easily, but I wake up at least twice every single night. I can still function during the day, but I really, really wish I could sleep all night. Our bed just isn't doing it for me, but I haven't had trouble sleeping on the couch. I fall asleep out there, and I sleep well and soundly. I mentioned this to Em, so last week, she made a fire and hunkered down on the couch with me. I didn't ask her to, and she didn't offer. She just did it. We snuggled, and I got some real rest. That was one of the sweetest things she's ever done, and she's done a lot of sweet things.

When we first started dating, I didn't drink coffee*. We went Up North with her family, and in the morning she got herself a cup of coffee. Without even asking, she brought me orange juice because she knew that's what I wanted. It doesn't seem like something big, but I knew right then that she loved me. I was kind of embarrassed to have her family witness something so intimate and tender. It didn't seem like I anyone else should see it.

Other reasons Em is wonderful: she put down her bowl of ice cream** to drive frantically across town so we could vote for the special ed school millage before the polls closed. She builds fires. She knit me a sweater and a matching hat. She reads Harry Potter books aloud to me. She helps me with the crossword. She supported me when I couldn't work. She snuggles on the couch and listens to This American Life with me. She eats my cooking and doesn't complain. She is all around a truly wonderful human being. I love her so very, very much. And I think I've even convinced her to marry me legally in Canada.


*She has since changed that. Now, she has given it up (mostly) and I am a fiend.
**Actually we took it with us, but whatever.

Tuesday morning, Em took me to work at 6:30. I wasn't scheduled until 7, but she needed to drive to the polling place. I had coffee and toast, then started my shift. For lunch, I had chicken salad. This upsets me because I don't eat chicken. At least not intentionaly. The container was labeled tuna. It didn't totally taste like tuna, but you know, I've never bought fancy schmancy tuna before, and my mind was elsewhere. Part of me thought it might be chicken, but I kept eating. Maybe because it was pretty good, maybe because I wondered about this whole vegetarian thing. Who knows. But it was not a good idea. I haven't had chicken in years. I don't even like chicken. At least, I never did. It had been so long, who knows? About half an hour after lunch, my stomach started to hurt. And it didn't stop. I feel better now, on Thursday morning, but Tuesday and Wednesday were long days of uncomfortability. No more chicken for me.

So I confessed to Em. It really did feel like confession since I thought maybe it wasn't fish, yet I still ate it. And what did she do? All night she made ghostly chicken noise at me. Baaaawwwwwk Baawwwwk. It was one of the funniest things I've ever heard. I love her.

At least it was fancy, free-range happy chicken.

Enough about the chicken! Moving on to the election: We watched the returns drinking French wine and Boston lager. And still we lost. As much as I hate it, I think Kerry showed a lot of class conceding the election when he could have contested it. I think it was better for the country to move on. But still it makes me sad. At least Michigan went for him. And the gay marriage/civil union/domestic partnership ban passed by a less wide margin than I thought. So that's good. What a pathetically unshiny silver lining that is. But if the U gets challenged about domestic partnership benefits, which it will, we will be part of the case because we take advantage of them. And that gives me a perverse pleasure. That is, if we haven't moved by then.

Enough about the election! Moving on to my job:

I'm working at the fancy schmancy pricey deli's mail order division for the holidays. They are looking for more people, so if you need a job, let me know. I love it. It doesn't pay super well, and I may not even bring much of it home (why pay the mortgage when you can buy brownies! and coffeecake!and olive oil! and really expensive vinegar!). I'm on my feet on a concrete floor all day. And I love it. I absolutely love it. I'm going to beg to stay on when I go back to school. The Bakehouse is hiring, so maybe I can. Damn near everyone who works there is queer, and they feed us and The New York Times gets delivered, so I can read the food section on my break. And I'm good at it. I wouldn't have thought that I'd be good at it, but I am. I can find you dry goods or pack a beautiful gift box if you ever have need of that.

Off to cash my check so I can hit the deli to get dessert for tonight. We meet with our first pastoral candidate tonight.