2001-05-22 6:34 a.m.
By being up early I'm seeing what a beautiful morning it is. It feels like Christmas. Maybe that is the only time of the year I ever get up this early. Being up this early gives me a chance to see my sweet big yellow dog curled up snoozing in the middle of the yard. And early enough to see my bad little black dog laying in my newly prepared and planted tomato patch. At least now I know.
Let's backtrack through the weekend, shall we? I met with Abbycat last night to write. It was fun. We compared new haircuts, neither satisfied with our own. Our writing went in completely different directions from last time.
Work yesterday was a struggle. I had worked Sunday and done half of Monday's work, which turned out to be a good thing since it took me twice as long to do the half that was left. My mouth and my mind were not cooperating and everything I said came out slurred or confused or stumbly, and, no, this was a workday that I hadn't been drinking. Maybe that was the problem.
Yesterday at home I became Susie Homemaker. Maybe I'm nesting in preparation for being home more in July. I cooked a real lunch for a change and did all the laundry, even the delicate stuff that gets set aside when the big stuff gets washed and even the dry cleaning stuff. And I ironed. Yeah, shocked me too.
Back another day to Sunday. Mark and I ate migas at Cisco's and had a discussion about the jealousy and fear associated with TB. It didn't resolve anything at all but it appears it is good to have that sort of a discussion in a public place. No tears, no storming out, no loud voices. I headed off to work, which helped, being alone.
Later in the day we went to a graduation party for the girlfriend of the sax player in the band. We were the old people (besides the sax player). Met a guy who went to the same high school that Mark went to---only graduating 20 years later. The party was reasonably fun, neat house up around Lamar and 45th, good food and a keg of Shiner. A writer I admire and have met once before was there and that made me fantasize about the writing life again. Her writing life is very short on funds so I don't suppose I exactly want the life she has, just some of her talents. Which, I probably have, I just need her persistence and confidence.
Okay, let's backtrack to Saturday and the blues festival. I started the day at the graduation party for my friend that earned her PhD. She's a friend, but she's also my step-sister-in-law. Her mother introduced me to Mark and then she married Mark's dad, so I was friends with this girl and her mother before the days of Mark, but now we are also related. Mark didn't make this party, but his Dad and wife were there and others I knew. No keg at this party and since it was noon I only drank the Diet Cokes. Food wasn't as good as Sunday's party either but it was a nice outdoor party on a reasonably cool cloudy day and I enjoyed it. It was at a bed and breakfast near Lamar and 11th in the cool hilly old part of Austin.
Then on to the blues festival for the afternoon. It was really a schizo day. I enjoyed the festival and Waterloo Park and the whole Austin vibe that was going on. I hadn't been to a festival yet in Austin and this one was nice. Small park, under the trees, good music that never was delayed as it switched from one stage to the other and you didn't even have to move to see and hear it all. Vendors and food, even chair massage, of which I availed myself after standing for four or so hours.
The other side of the coin was the omnipresent TB who was there by my sweet husband's side as I got there and was there as WE left. It made for an uncomfortable day where I never felt like I could be myself. I was standoffish and distant and Mark criticized me for that on Sunday. He said, "It's not that you CAN'T be yourself around her, it's that you WON'T be yourself around her." I told him it appeared that he had two dates for the day which he took issue with, but, by staying with her more of the day than he did with me (granted, because I was leaving them every chance I got) and by bringing beers to both of us it appeared as if he was catering to her as much, or more, than he did to me. He doesn't see it that way.
A saving grace was that the other "band wives" (girlfriends) were also appalled at his behavior and were supportive and said that their boyfriends in the band feel the same way that they do and feel like I'm being mistreated. I hate playing victim and harping on this over and over. Sometimes, usually after a Xanax, I can calm down and feel like this is no big deal. At other moments, many more of them, in fact, I feel anxiety squeezing every cell of my heart and I foresee a day where Mark says, "I don't know how it happened, but I'm not attracted to you anymore and I don't want to be married..." or something equally devastating that I am thinking but don't even dare put it into words here.
Sunday I asked Mark to talk to a married friend that we trust (his choice) and get an outside unbiased opinion. He thought of a man that he says he will ask. The man is a drummer, too, but not regularly with a band now. He has a lovely wife and home and children. I don't know what his opinion of this will be, but maybe he and Mark can talk about it and he can talk to me and explain how it is with men. Or maybe he'll slap some sense into Mark. We'll see if it happens at all. I have a feeling Mark has forgotten all of Sunday's conversation and unless I bring it up again, it won't come up.
Okay, enough moping. I say I hate to dwell on it and then that is all I do. Dwell and dwell and f*&king dwell.
To give him some credit for his behavior on Saturday... Miss TB has this neediness of always having to have someone walk or take her to her car. She had asked earlier in the day where I parked and was pleased that we were parked in the same garage. At the end of the night the three of us, again, were watching Ray Charles and I told Mark I thought I would cut out and go. I told him I would go ahead and leave because I figured TB would want him to walk her to her car in the dark and I'd leave him to do that if he wanted. Bless his heart, he said he was ready to go and it would probably be easier to get out if I just went with him and we came back and got my car Sunday. I finally agreed and he told TB we were cutting out. She jumped up too and said she'd leave too so I could go with her to her car. I said I was going with Mark. So she asked if we could give her a ride to her car. Mark said no since there was no room for a third passenger in the car. She had to make on her own (which apparently she did since she was at work yesterday). Even he thinks she is a big baby when it comes to getting to her car at night. So, I appreciate him for that.
Back to the music of the festival, which was a good thing about the day. I saw Carolyn Wonderland, Patrice Pike (formerly of Sister Seven), finally some blues with Mark's band (it was, after all, a blues festival), Toni Price, Jimmie Vaughn with Lou Ann Barton, who were incredible and awesome, the highlight of the day, Jake Andrews, Robert Cray, a guy that I've forgotten his name, Tom something, formerly of the Subdudes, and then Ray Charles. I'm glad I've finally seen Ray Charles but it wasn't all that good. He plays with symphonies and in quiet halls mostly now (like in Dallas the night before) and his set list is all soft and quiet. Sure, I wanted to hear Georgia (I didn't stay for America the Beautiful) but after slow song after slow song (Lucky Old Sun, etc.) I was clamoring for "What I'd Say" or "Hit the Road Jack." He didn't do either one. I miss the young Ray Charles. He probably does too.