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One step, two steps . . . I'm in the midst of marking now . . . and feeling my way through change . . . needing any extra time I have to process what I still don't understand. I'm reading A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore and Understanding Stepmothers by Elizabeth Church. The latter is the more challenging read, because I'm discovering that my way isn't really going to work. I had huge expectations regarding family and how being with E would somehow satisfy my need for a sense of family, but I realize, reading this book, that those desires will never be met by our union, not unless I radically change my perspective, which may have to happen. I suppose I don't mind being pushed beyond my comfort zone, but that's not to say it is easy. I feel lost in these shifts and like I have to redefine myself in ways that I resent, to a certain extent. However, that's life, I reason; it must be good for me, or, if not good, then necessary. My yard is filled with straw-like hay while my neighbours lawns are coming in beautifully. I must do something about that . . . and my ugly awnings . . . and my garden. That's a summer project . . . my other summer project will be to improve my French and start to write something I've been thinking about for a long time. I need a project because now that the conflict with my ex is at simmer, I can turn my attention to something else. There is so much else to be concerned about. A most of all. I feel guilty about everything that preoccupied me so fruitlessly over the past year, and I want to refocus on her. E would argue that I've always been focused on her, but I was working so much that she had a lot less of my attention than she had previously. Now that she's with her father more often, she's complaining about not being with me. What can I say to that? I never seem to have the right answer. I have to keep trying to find it, recognizing that it may never happen.