julia e_o_i She wasn't my only childhood "best friend." That honour was shared by Kelsey for a few years. But she's the only one I've stayed in touch with. 240708 ... epitome of incomprehensibility It sounds weird to say I don't know how to communicate with someone I've known for years, but it was true a few days ago. I was worried what was wrong with her, because it wasn't like her to miss two things we'd planned, saying she wasn't feeling well. If she didn't want to, she'd just say she didn't want to. Or would she? But I thought it was a health thing. Dad's dad_wisdom was something that should have been obvious: "Just ask her. You can say, 'If you don't mind letting me know...'" I protested, "Ugh! But I can't just ASK!" After some thought, I did, remembering she prefers directness to obfuscation. And it's nothing deadly, but still distressing: fatigue as the aftereffect of infection. She said she was tired at the end of our conversation - this was before Christmas and me getting a mild but still annoying cold - and I realized we HAD talked a lot, almost for an hour. So I wouldn't blab more, I would go, but first: "Would it be okay if I came over to visit sometime in the holidays?" "Yeah, but I'm not sure what day works yet. I'll text you." "Would it be annoying if I also texted you to check?" She laughs. "No, it wouldn't be annoying." "I just wanted to make sure. So we'll see about later!" This is what I want out of social life: some conversation and connection, talking to people with at least a little mutual understanding or inspiration. But I am more social this winter than the last, David's absence notwithstanding. E.g. I'm going to a low-key New Year's party with some poetry acquaintances. Which reminds me: my cousin's coming over soon, so I should clear the table. 241227 ... e_o_i The other Julia I've known for years is my older cousin, one of Aunt Sarah's children. And yes, here I also find myself nervous about communicating with someone I've known for years. This time it's about a paper she sent me too proofread. I worry that she's annoyed at me for changing italics back to non-italics (it makes sense in context, even if working_on_vacation didn't explain it well) or thinks I'm charging too much for my work - that either reason, or both, is why she hasn't emailed ne back yet. This, even though my practical mind tells me, "That's NOT why she didn't answer you - she's just busy." Busy she is. Doing a PhD, teaching a class, living with two teenage kids who have totally different hobbies (the two I remember: the girl does art, the boy basketball - but that's not ALL they do, of course). She said she might drive in from Kingston tomorrow with her daughter, if she has time. Whatever her views of my proofreading, I hope she can make it. 250712 ... e_o_i EDIT: *to* proofread. How can I *too* proofread?? I'm better with proofreading other people's writing than my own little blather pieces, I pinky-promise. 250712 ... e_o_i Silly Kirsten. She wasn't mad at me. But I feel like I could have been more social. Feeling the time pressure, I was working with batiks while she and her daughter talked with the rest of the family in the kitchen. Although I did step in to grab a few fries from the poutine she was sharing. Ontario *is* capable of producing this Quebec delicacy, but I was content with one greasy forkful. Mooching aside, I chatted with her while we sat on the bench in the entry hall, her tall teenage daughter perched on the stairs. She laughed about that bench. To her mother: "You gave up the couch but kept this hard church bench?" Me: "Is this actually a church pew?" Julia: "Yes! It's from there." Me, conspiratorially, now that Aunt Sarah had gone from the room: "I was there this morning and I'll tell you a secret - the church benches have cushions on them." She and her daughter laughed - this one had a carpet draped over it as a back rest, but no cushions. 250713 ... e_o_i (I mean Julia found it funny that Aunt Sarah had the bench from the church.) 250713 what's it to you? who go blather from