weekending

The weather is brutal today, a weird blustery frozen rain-like substance dripping from the sky at moments, and spitting like a firestorm at others.  I am staying inside, a blissful free weekend from work or other obligations, so I slept late as I could then made a huge decadent breakfast and have spent the rest of the morning alternating between reading poetry and social media-ing, where every turn, every new allegation against powerful men makes my feminist hackles boil with hatred and disgust  (a very Macbeth-ian image now that I think about it.)  I've also been thinking about the world and the finale of American Horror Story (though I wanted more but it seems that's it) and the idea of women's rage consuming the world, and AHS was eerily spot on to the current climate. 

It's been a busy week..our Art on the Cheap Panel, the Salon on Wednesday (and though we were pretty much audienceless in the scheme of things, I enjoyed seeing some poetry folks I don't see often enough), and then yesterday's Bingo event, which was the sort of mindless fun I needed to round out the week. In between there was a mad dash to catch up on what I missed being out the week before and trying to keep the end of semester bus from running me over like it always seems to no matter how much I prepare.  We have only a few more things happening Aof R-wise, but I'm already thinking about next semester and some more writing-focused things I'd like to try. My big push the next couple weeks will be working on the murder mystery plot and preparations for Gaming Society and thinking about what we want to do in the spring.

Bingo of course, and pretty much everything, has me thinking about my mom and her mad love of it when I was a kid, which is natural I suppose.  Hopefully, the weird waves of grief will lessen over time...how I can be completely fine one moment, and her death this lingering thing at the back of my mind but not so terribly sharp and then suddenly I smell something like banana bread on the bus and the next thing I know I'm crying because *sob* I never learned how to make her banana bread and usually it was just there when I came home sometimes, and how am I supposed to ask her how to make it now that she's gone? and sure other people can make banana bread, and sure, I can buy it or try to make my own, but it will never be HER recipe! *sob* And then I'm crying like an idiot on the bus over banana bread and people are looking at me (or maybe I only imagine they are looking at me and likely no one has noticed. )  The holidays will no doubt be harder than the day to day, and being in Rockford, where she always was,  harder than being in Chicago, where she rarely was.  And that very distance in the end, while being harder in the last few months, somehow making it easier now.

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