Boy Crazy

Red Yellow Green

“Find a boyfriend.

A nice one.

To help you with the house.”

This was said to me very soon after Glen died.

Said to me again — and again — from the most loving of people, with the most beautiful and caring hearts.

So when it is said, as it was recently said again last week — it’s okay and I appreciate the thought, but I don’t need a boyfriend to help me with the house.

I have me to help me with the house, and now I have Teagan (and of course Lolo), and the three of us are doing quite well together, taking care of this homemade house at the top of the road, in the mountains.

Thank you Bri Cohen, for calling it a “homemade house”, because it is, and no one has ever said that before, and now I will say it all the time.

Last Wednesday I was in the truck by 5am plowing the road of the over two feet of snow that had fallen.

At 7am, I was climbing on the roof to clean the solar panels of snow. I was sweating and spent from maneuvering Glen’s ginormous squeegee to clear the panels while walking along and keeping myself balanced, but it was a fine thing to do, as it has always been fine thing to do.

The day before, I charged the battery in the truck (that for some reason keeps dying), so that I’d be ready to plow when the snow came, and I didn’t think twice about doing it.

When I went to change the oil in the generator and found that the door to the generator was frozen shut, I knew how to bang it open with one of Glen’s hammers without making a dent.

The day before that I killed a crawling nest of a black widow mama and all of babies with my bare hands.

Just kidding, not my bare hands, but I did squash the nest. I couldn’t relocate, didn’t have time, had to kill as they were everywhere — many and crawling — and having had the experience of being bitten by a black widow and ending up in the hospital from that bite, it was instinctual — even vengeful — my killing of the black widow spider’s overflowing nest.

Oh, and I got Lolo away from a giant and long snake that was slithering backward, tail first, into its snake hole. Lolo was pawing at the snake, and barking, and the snake was hissing. Once I called him to me and he came, Lolo and I watched the snake go all the way into the hole — tail first, head last — then we looked at each other and said, “Did you see that? That disappearing snake? That went right into the mountain?”

Also chopping wood and carrying water.

I know that none of these things are hard to do or take any kind of skill. That many of you reading this have done all of these things too, and have done them way better, way faster and more, but I’m patting myself on the back remembering how freaked out I was at the beginning, not knowing how I would take care of this house on my own, and now I’m taking care of this house on my own. Teagan is too.

So I don’t need a boyfriend for that.

What I do need though — and what I want — is sex and the intimacy of skin.

Below the paywall I speak about the fun I’ve been having with this, as well as some dark and some weird because that has happened too.

If you want to keep reading — want to be part of this next chapter of growth, failure, confusion and connection — subscribe right here:

One last thing before I do the paywall:

We are dancing The Sky Inside on Saturday, June 6th, 10am-1pm MST.

In The Shop, or on Zoom.

Email me if you’d like to join our spiral slow.

Slower slower, still.

~

The door to The Shop was wide open. I was able to close it, just in time.

The paywall now, ‘cause sex: