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Magic Decoder Ring

I’ve been thinking about Kitey a lot lately and feeling sad and worried that she hasn’t written. I haven’t written her, either, so I guess I shouldn’t be complaining.

Todd says that he thinks that when everything happened she backed off and is waiting for me to write, which is a possibility. There’s this whole really difficult to understand way that she goes through life that makes me extremely frustrated and I don’t know how to deal with it. Here’s a good example: 1. Kitey says, “Want to go for a walk?” 2. Sage says, “Sure, I’m ready to go when you are.” 3. Three hours later Kitey is upstairs working on her rug, crabby and scowling. (She and Claire have a lot in common.) 4. Sage says, “Hey, whatever happened to the walk?” 5. Kitey says, “I was ready to go two hours ago.” 6. Sage says, “Why didn’t you say anything?” 7. Kitey says, “You looked busy and involved in what you were doing. I didn’t want to bother you.” And so on and so forth. I get so confused and feel helpless in the face of her wanting something but not saying that she wants it and then things get gaggy and weird.

So there’s a possibility that she wants me to write first and is waiting, or there’s some secret signal that I’m supposed to be flashing with my magic decoder ring and the whole thing is so exasperating. It’s made even weirder by the fact that she’s also totally honest and open about what she’s feeling. I don’t understand how the two ways of being can exist side by side either, so don’t ask me. And then I think, well, she’s probably very involved in getting through the winter (her teepee is heated just like any teepee, with a fire in the center, and she spends a good part of her winter days gathering wood) and in being with Jill and…oh, I don’t know. I still feel a strong connection to her, though. I always can feel her near me, no matter what.

Had a great time yesterday in the afternoon talking to Laurel and — erm, someone who’s permission I haven’t asked about putting their name in here, a good friend of Laurel’s — on IRC. We were talking about what the point of cleaning your room is and I mentioned that one of the things I used to do when I lived with my father and Ruth was to run downstairs, make myself something quickly to eat, and then run back upstairs with it if Ruth was home. That way I didn’t have to see her or talk to her (you have no idea, saying “Hello, how are you?” to this woman has the potential to somehow obscurely offend her and piss her off) even though I wasn’t supposed to eat in my room. So after awhile I had a whole collection of dirty dishes underneath my bed and *grin* Laurel and her friend were both saying, “Ooo, charming, thanks for telling us about THAT, Sage,” and I said reflectively that I really cooked a lot as a kid just so I didn’t have to eat any meals with Ruth, and that it was ironic considering how much I hate to cook. And Laurel’s friend, who has been following my journal, said that he somehow got the impression that I liked to cook, and Laurel said that it was probably because Todd cooks a lot and loves cooking and I write about it. So I said we should come out with a cookbook called “The Galactic Web Empress’ Consort’s Handy Keep Your Pookie Happy And Fed CookBook, As Told By Todd To The Galactic Web Empress”, tee hee.

Diner-style Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

Soggy Toast