WooHoo! no...wait, what?

Ostensibly, Lillian was there to help design the production for Ethan's new musical.

Ostensibly.

However, precious little drawing was going onto her sketchpad. There was doodling, of course. And there was gazing thoughtfully out of the window. But very little drawing.

Lillian frowned as she thought, swung her legs on the stool she was sitting on, fretted inwardly about how freakishly short she was at 35, and then fretted more about the question she wanted to ask, and then sighed. There were very few things she could not talk to Ethan about, very few things that she had any difficulty discussing with him.

She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to actually broach this topic with him when the time actually came to do it. But if she didn't do it tonight, she never would, and she really, really wanted the answer to be yes.

She thought it would be. She hoped it would be.

But what if it weren't?

She sighed again, softer this time, and then leaned her head on her hand.

She should really do some more sketching...

Puck was in a great mood because his dad had visited over the weekend. Dad was the coolest guy ever and thing were awesome when he was around. For one thing, whenever he came home, he always brought the coolest, most awesomest presents - like the gun that shot Ping-Pong balls that Puck had in his hands that very minute.

(The one thing that Puck didn't like when Dad was home was that he always made Puck's mom cry. There was never a visit that Puck didn't hear them yelling at each other at night, when they thought he was asleep and couldn't hear them. Sometimes Puck didn't like his mom, but she was the one who always took care of him and even at his age, Puck knew that was important.)

Anyway, back to the cool Ping-Pong ball gun.

Puck was presently lurking in the bushes with his new toy, waiting for the perfect target to walk by. Maybe one of the kids from school would show up. An impish grin broke over his little face. That would be totally wicked!

Julia Cohen-Chang-Abrams trod carefully over the snowy, slushy sidewalk, one mittened hand stretched out towards the armrest on her father's wheelchair just in case. Artie had warned her that if she fell, it would be very hard for him to help her get back up, and his normally rambunctious daughter took the warning to heart.

She wasn't a chubby girl by any means, but her bulky winter jacket (bright purple, her current favorite color) made her look like a butterball. Or a grape.

"I can barely move, Daddy!" she complained. "And why is it so cold?"

"This is Ohio, sweet pea," Artie reminded her. "We have weather."

It was two days before Christmas.

Lillian hadn't heard if Ethan was back in NYC yet. Things with his mother had gotten so difficult, and she understood how important it was that he deal with it.

But she was worried about him.

Ethan tended to work too hard and ask too much of himself. She knew the trait well, as she had the same problem. They'd been talking on the phone, but nothing regular.

But it was two days before Christmas. And for the most part, she was alone in New York. Oh, of course she'd had invitations, to Blake and Eliza's, and to Kurt and Tanner's. There was something Lillian didn't like about being a third wheel.

Plus, Lillian had gotten a notion that she wanted to spend at least part of Christmas with Ethan, and once she took a notion to something...well, it just needed to happen.

So she went about throwing things into a suitcase, and dialed Ethan's cellphone number, counting the number of rings till he answered.

If he didn't, she'd just text him.

Noah Puckerman skulked in some bushes, busily tying a length of fishing line across the pathway leading to the playground. He was supposed to be in the bathroom, but he supposed that this was more fun than peeing.

It was nearly time for recess, and he snickered as he imagined a whole crowd of kids tripping over each other on their way outside. Maybe that stuck-up Kurt Hummel will be one of them and he'll get dirt all over that stupid bow tie he was wearing that day.

Does being a badass, or falling for them, run in the family?

My sister Becky's boyfriend just asked her to marry him. She and the dude are only 26, even though she and my mom think that's plenty old enough (Mom was younger when she got married and had me). I guess that's OK, but couldn't Becky have gone with someone else?

Jared The dude isn't totally bad - he doesn't smack my sister around (he would totally die if he did that), at least, but other than that? He doesn't have a real job, he's too hot for his own good, and good God, his hair!

...

In other words, he's exactly like me. And honestly, I don't know if that's a good thing.

I wonder if it's not too late to lock Sarah up in a tower or something.

I've been looking into the junior roller derby leagues for Beckett. She's been working really hard at skating and it'd give her something to do to expend all that OMG I'M A KID energy she has. There are definitely leagues around that have junior teams, I just need to find out when they have their clinics and stuff. And then make sure that they aren't too physically intense.

Then again, this is the same kid who hip checked a bully into a wall yesterday. I know I should reprimand her, but...

Blake waited at the arrivals gate at the airport, shifting his weight from side to side anxiously. Talking on the phone was good and all, but he hadn't seen his wife in months. That was way too long to go without seeing each other. Every time he'd planned to fly out to the other coast and visit her, something had come up. That wasn't something he was proud of, but it had happened. And he didn't want it to happen ever again.

So there he stood, his eyes scanning the mass of people coming through the gate. He had sign that, instead of her name, said "the love of my life", and he held it up over his head, hoping she would see it if he didn't see her first.

My daughter is one fierce thing. She just came out of her room in all her roller skating gear, hip checked my leg, got sad when I didn't fall down, and proceeded to skate around the kitchen. She's incredible.

In other news, who's going to the airport soon? THAT WOULD BE ME. So stoked.

God, please. No more grief.

I'm sick and tired of crying.

I guess no one ever said therapy would be easy and now I'm not having a real easy time.

Sometimes I hate being human.

***

In better news, I'm all settled into my apartment. It's not nearly as echo-y and scary now. It's kind of like my parents' house, mostly because I took most of their furniture. Very retro-fifties.

And I have my first wooden canvas about half-way done for my first art project in...a very, very long time.

I sorta feel like I've come home at last. Mostly, anyway.

So apparently I punched Nate in the face last night. I was, I don't know, sleep flailing I guess. I really hope he doesn't end up with a black eye or broken nose or something. That could be awkward to explain.

Really, I'm surprised it hasn't happened before now.
Unless it has and that's why every relationship before this has ended and no one had the guts to tell me...

At least Dustin always gives me the cold shoulder if I accidentally kick him off the bed. Until I go near the kitchen, then he's my best friend again.

I'm off to Chicago on the weekend! For the first time in, well, years. And it's for a wedding too so I get to drink lots of champagne, fight dirty for the bouquet and then get carried home. Can't wait!

This place was huge.

Well, that was the primary reason that she'd bought it, of course, but for a few moments, standing in the cavernous main room, she felt very, very small. And very, very alone.

She really hoped that Finn came over soon. If nothing else, they could get stuff arranged and then she'd have boundaries in her space so she wouldn't feel so...open. Though she did love those windows...

In the meantime, she hauled over some Rubbermaid storage bins to mark out the boundaries for the skating rink and her studio. She had some portable walls she was going to put up to mark where the boundaries were later, but she'd definitely need help putting them up.

It was weird, being here. It was weird being by herself after so long. She hoped she'd get used to it.

After Tanner told her what his 'father' had said to him over the phone, Melinda Fabray knew something had to be done. That man might call him whenever he felt an itch to have a son--and place so many conditions on him as to make it impossible for Tanner to be himself at all.

And she couldn't watch him have this pain of rejection every single time.

So, in the afternoon, she had gone out and met with her lawyers. They had worked for several hours and drawn up papers.

And then she'd gone home and made stew, because stew involved chopping lots of vegetables. And God knew she wanted to chop something. The dinner table was very quiet that night, as Melinda couldn't help being angry.


Later that evening, she put on her best suit (a navy Christian Dior), and drove over to the Tanner home, sitting in her car for a moment, making sure people were home. And then she went to the door and knocked sharply on the door.

I think I need a holiday. I wouldn't change my career for anything but it really does suck when I get home and my boyfriend's already asleep because he has to be up early. We seem to just be passing each other as we come and go and I hate it.

God, I've got so whiney these days!

Dad's going into hospital next week (nothing major, just one of those things) so I'll be back in Ohio for a few days next week at least. Interesting to see if it's changed much since I was last there.
It'd be nice to see people while I'm there so let me know if you're free!

I am sleeping on the floor of MY NEW PLACE and waiting for the movers to get here with my stuff from the storage unit in the morning.

This is *so* awesome.


It's very echo-y.

Finn, you still up for helping me move furniture about? Not tomorrow, though. The next day. Or the next. or whatever, I'm flexible.



[private to Ethan]

Hey, are you okay? How are things with your mom?

[/private]

So, Iron Horse (that's my band, which all of you should know by now) is doing OK. We just wrapped up our tour of Japan and we're pretty big over there especially since we got a Japanese guitarist to replace Max.

It's weird playing rhythm guitar after doing lead all this time, but Sushi (that's the Japanese guy's nickname) can really shred. And at least this way, I can focus on singing - and playing keyboards if it's needed.

So how's everyone doing?

Bed rest.

BED REST.

You have to be friggin kidding me.

Will somebody please tell my wife to stop trying to tear down our living room wall? We don't need a ballet studio IN the apartment. And I'm not convinced a giant hole in the wall will 'up' the value of our place.

The girls are starting dance rehearsals today. Both of them. I'm still not sure how I feel about this.

In other news, the first day of the new school year was Monday! So far...I have given away 0 detentions and I have convinced 6 kids to sign up for choir. Mrs. Lovetts now owes me a pizza. Our football team is looking good- we might actually make play offs this year if we keep this up. I hope.

It had been far too long since she's seen Benji. They never seemed to be in the same place at the same time and it had been that way for years. She explains to the cabdriver (perhaps over-explains, because she's a little hyper and has been all day long) what the procedure will be so that the taxi driver doesn't drive off.

Not that he would, without getting paid, but these are the sorts of things she worries about.

She has the driver stop in front of the Port Authority and gets out of the cab to flag Benji down.

I am at the Port Authority bus Terminal and would very much like a ride to somewhere with a bed or couch or empty floor space. Thank you.