THANKFUL FRIDAY

This week, we saw our first real snow of the season. Technically, there was snow a couple of weeks ago, but it happened early on Saturday morning with only a handful of people to witness it. Me being one of them since I get up with the sun even on Saturdays. The day turned out to be sunny and warm though and no one believed when I said that it had snowed that morning. This week was real, honest to goodness, snow that quickly melted. Though there is still some on the roof of my car. The weather was warm enough for the snow to melt on the ground, but then quickly fell back into freezing temperatures for the rest of the week. Morning walks do not happen during such conditions.

I have wavered between getting up and onto my mat in the early morning hours when I am usually walking Josephine and snuggling back down under the covers. The snuggling back down under the covers has been the winner for most mornings. I get up to open the pet door for Josephine and the cat. Then I hop right back under the covers. It only takes a few minutes of being out in the cold for Josephine to have the same idea. She comes running back inside and jumps on the bed as I lift the comforter for her. Then she curls her little body up as close as she can to mine. This is where we stay for another hour or so before I get up to feed her and the cat. Then Josephine and I have moment of snuggling and tussling while I wait for my turn in the shower.

At first I felt really guilty about not taking the walks. Especially because Josephine gets so freaking excited just at the sight of her leash. These moments of snuggle and play time that we have had this week eases that guilt of not walking. Michael’s moms had to say goodbye to their little dog over the weekend and then a Facebook friend had to say goodbye to her best kitty. So, I feel pretty good about skipping the walks in favor of showering Josephine with extra love.

Treats for everyone.

Speaking of treats for everyone. Tomorrow is Michael’s birthday. He’s been talking about being in his late forties for months now, sometimes with a tone of excitement and sometimes with a tone of dismay. Michael changed up is diet after our return from Vancouver. Then he made appointments with doctors and scheduled routine tests. He’s checking his blood pressure and monitoring his salt intake. He eats a banana every morning. It looks like he has plans to live past the age of fifty. Sometimes, I’m really surprised he sticks around (for various reasons), but then he talks about our future together. A lake house. Travel. Retirement. I am thankful for his random acts of kindness like yesterday morning when I walked out to my car and Michael had scraped my windshield for me. I am thankful for his raccoon/possum/even squirrel trapping skills that he didn’t even know he had until this year. I’m thankful for how he insists on getting my car washed which is something I never bothered doing unless I couldn’t see out the windows. I’m thankful that in spite of those vague various reasons that he still sticks around.

Here’s to surviving another rotation around the sun.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

No too long ago, we met an old coworker friend and her boyfriend for dinner. It was the first time for us to meet her person and she said “Cindy’s the person that says she’s going to do something and then does the thing.” This was how she introduced me, which was sweet and made me chuckle. I don’t know if this is true, but I will say that Michael has played an intricate part in me doing the things. He may not be 100% on board with some of my ideas at first, but by the time I’m ready to jump out of the plane, Michael is there to check that my parachute is secure and in good working order. He sees the dangerous side of things that I am oblivious to and can point them out for me to navigate around. If I choose to navigate around them. I am sure that there are many times when being with me, for him, is like being in the presence of a baby taking its first steps and the those first steps are happening on the ledge of a firepit.

I have a hard time communicating with Michael and using words in a way that he understands what it is I am trying to convey. We are not on the same emotional or intellectual planes and often times I put too much thought and effort into being on his plane. It can be exhausting and I know that a lot of this is on me and my expectations of how I think a relationship should be based on my past. I am difficult. The struggle is compounded by the living arrangement. Living in a small space together doesn’t help. The last two school years have been really hard on Michael. This school year seems to be worse than the last one probably because he’s dealing with HS freshmen that never really got that middle school transition period due to the pandemic. His battle with work right now adds to the challenge of being in a relationship.

During the first year of our relationship, Michael talked about how he probably wouldn’t live past fifty. He didn’t sound sad about it. It was just matter of fact, his life would not be extensive. Slowly though, as the years have gone by, he has spoken less and less on his limited lifespan. To the point where I don’t think he’s mentioned it in a couple of years. Instead he talks about a lake house and his plans to renovate that lake house during his summers. He talks about a boat and an idea for a skee-do Uber business. He talks about when he retires and the things he’s going to do. There is a small part of me that likes to believe that I had some sort of influence in his change in language.

Today is Michael’s birthday and I should be better and not save up my words for this one day. I am very proud of how hard he works at being a good math teacher and mentor. Many of Michael’s students see him as an ally and he has received a few notes of gratitude from his students for this. As hard as this semester has been, he has still managed to maintain some empathy towards these kids. I truly believe that Michael is giving his best possible effort in a difficult situation. I know that many of the schemes and shenanigans that I come up with take Michael outside of his comfort zone. That’s why he’s not always 100% on board. I ask a lot of him and I don’t tell him enough how much I appreciate his efforts. I am also very grateful for his change in language regarding his future. As much as I don’t really like to admit this, I need him around.

Because who else is going to do my parachute safety checks.

IN THIS COUNTRY, HOUSE OWNS YOU

Backyard

7 Likes, 0 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "Backyard"

There are things about home ownership that I wish I had known before buying a house. I’ve been told by every adult “Buy a house! You’re throwing money away by renting!”. When I bought my house, my monthly payment dropped by almost $400 and I was all “RENTING IS A SCAM!” Then the sewer backed up in the basement and I realized my landlord was not going to fix this because I was the landlord. I didn’t know how to snake a drain. Calling a plumber sounded like something only suckers did. So I poured a bunch of chemicals down the drain.

Then I called a plumber.

Michael has done a fairly good job of fixing things around the house. It does come with its fair share of handyman’s Tourettes though and I’ve learned to stay out of his way in these moments. Soon after he moved in, the springy thingy system on the garage door broke on one side. We were all really lucky no one was in the garage when it happened because apparently wire ricochets all around. But now the garage door weighed fifty million pounds. Michael, with some blood, sweat and a sailor’s vocabulary managed to lift the door enough to get a carjack under it. Then he was able to use the carjack to lift the garage door enough to replace the springy thingy. I stayed well out of his way for all of this and this was the beginning of an unsaid agreement between us. I would just let him do what needed to be done. No matter how much he yelled, grunted, sweated or cursed. I would just leave him to it. The only times I did not just hand the whatever needs to be fixed to him was when the tiles started falling off the bathroom walls and when the basement flooded. Both of those times I stepped in because I knew the job surmounted our physical abilities (to not kill each other).

A few weeks ago, the furnace stopped working. It sounded like it was going to kick on, but then would not kick on. Michael did his research and discovered that there was some sensor that he needed to pull out and clean or rub with sandpaper. He did this, put the sensor back in and voila! The furnace kicked into action. He strutted around the house for days because he had fixed the furnace. He told someone he works with about it and the woman responded with “oh yeah. Sensor. You have to clean it.” Then he was shocked that this was something he had never heard of before. Why isn’t this common knowledge?!? I wouldn’t have known to do this. I’m not even sure I know how to remove the furnace panel. Then Friday afternoon, Michael calls me. He tells me to NOT touch the thermostat when I get home. He was in the process of rushing out to the only repair store that carried a certain part for the furnace. This time it was the ignitor that went out. He made it to the store just as they were closing, retrieved the part, came home and then replaced the part. We had heat! He fixed the furnace!

Except the new part was not exactly like the old one.

I woke up around 7 AM Sunday morning and the house was cold. I sighed and then decided not to wake Michael. There really wasn’t anything he could do at that time on a Sunday morning any way. I had prepped dough for another (failed) attempt at making sourdough bread. This required the oven temperature to be set to 500 degrees, which heated up the house well enough. Michael got up a few hours later, came out of his room and then stuck his ear to the floor vent outside his room. I said “Yeah, the furnace isn’t working.” He took his flashlight and headed down to the basement. Then he came back up and called a service repair guy. He looked at me and said “Get your big credit card out because we might be replacing the furnace today.” Then we both sat on the couch with queasy guts waiting on the service repair guy. Our service guy, Jerry, showed up and took a look at the furnace. He pulled out the ignitor that Michael had installed on Friday and it had shorted out because it wasn’t exactly like the old one. Jerry put in a new ignitor (a universal one that is easier to replace), told us when the best deals were for buying an AC and to not let them tell us we needed new duct work when they install the AC because what we have is just fine. It cost us around $300, which is a whole lot cheaper than a new furnace.

Later on Michael and I were making enchiladas, both of us standing near the stove waiting on the oil for the tortillas to heat up. Michael uses tongs to dunk a corn tortilla in the hot oil and then places it my baking dish for me to fill and roll. He started playing around, snapping at me with the metal tongs. I put up karate hands in defense and then told him he better stop because if he hurt me, I’d have to kick him out. Michael gasped and said “But I fixed the furnace!” I immediately responded with “Jerry fixed the furnace!” This caused him to double over with laughter, but when he had regained his breath he said “but I called Jerry.” I had to give him that because I was never more shocked when I heard him call the repair guy in the first place. I thought for sure his next step was going to be taking the furnace completely apart and that this was the winter we would die.

This will not be the winter we die… from furnace failure.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

1/52 A new 52 week project begins.

7 Likes, 0 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "1/52 A new 52 week project begins."

For every year we’ve been together, Michael has struggled with what to put in my Christmas stocking. I am not much of a snacker or candy eater. I’m never sitting on the couch and suddenly say something like “I want Reese’s Pieces!” I’m pretty hard to buy snacks or candy for because chances are it just won’t get eaten. I’m not purposefully depriving myself. I’m just usually not a snacker. Snacking is like my Coke-a-cola cravings. Sometimes I think I really want a Coke. Then I’ll take three or four sips of it and be done. Those baby cans of soda where made for people like me and sometimes I don’t even finish one of those. Surprising me with things in my stocking is not an easy task. Michael’s done a great job at changing his mindset on what goes into a Christmas stocking. Usually he gets me some nice almonds and a really good chocolate bar. I can make a really good candy bar last for more than a week. This year I got fire roasted crickets, which is funny because I also got him some fire roasted crickets. Neither of us have been brave enough to open these up and give them a go.

Last year, Michael put a desktop sand garden in my stocking. I took that little garden to work and then decided it would make a great photography project. By this time, I had completed my 365 day project and was so over the idea of doing another one. I just didn’t have it in me to commit to a picture every day, but I looked at my little Zen sand garden and thought “what about a picture a week?” A picture a week seemed like less of a commitment and still kept my toes in the creativity pool. So, once a week for the entire year of 2019, I took a few minutes to draw in the sand or not draw in some cases. I carefully took a picture of my creation and posted it to an album in Flickr. The album did not garner much attention in the Flickr community. Some times I would share a photo on Instagram if I really liked what I had done, but really the project was mostly just for me. In fact Michael wasn’t even really aware I had been doing this until I posted my very last picture in the project.

This year, Michael stuck a Buddha Board in my stocking. He said that when he realized I had turned my Zen sand garden into a photo project that I would need something new for 2020. Michael thought that the Buddha Board would be a good for this. And he’s right. Michael does a really good job with providing me with tools that help feed my creativity. I have played around with both the Buddha board and Zen garden when they were on display in various stores and every time I have thought about how fun it would be to have one of these on my desk. Yet, I never purchased one. The Fortune Cookie journal is another one of things that I never would have purchased for myself. I would have picked it up int he store and flipped through the pages while thinking about projects, but that would have been it. I have a hard time spending money on things like this for myself. Maybe they seem to frivolous for me to purchase or I just feel like it is wasteful to spend money on myself in this way. But Michael does not see it that way.

I am thankful for his field of view that differs from my own. I am thankful for his ability to see something and think “I bet Cindy could do something really fun and creative with that.” I am thankful for the way he encourages my creativity. I’m pretty sure he believes more in my creative talents than I do.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

This is what Michael was doing at Tiffany's while I was getting my other ring fixed. I made a promise to stick around for at least another five years.

18 Likes, 2 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "This is what Michael was doing at Tiffany's while I was getting my other ring fixed. I made a..."

I came home from work on Wednesday to a stinky bedroom because Josephine had vomited in her crate. Then she went outside and pooped on herself. The poop may or may not have appeared to be bloody. I went straight into worst case scenario and was certain that Josephine was going to die. Meanwhile, Michael is all "she's fine. she just ate something that doesn't agree with her." Except I was adamant that she had stomach cancer and was going to require thousands of dollars worth of surgery. The veterinarian office didn't think it sounded like an emergency and Michael took her in on Thursday.

She's fine. She just ate something that didn't agree with her. 

I could not be in New York, walking down 5th Avenue, without stopping in at Tiffany's. The mothership store houses six floors with real live people operating the elevators. I tend to head for the fourth floor when I'm visiting because that's where all of the silver jewelry is contained, but Michael wanted to look at the new ridiculous housewares section. So we started on the fifth floor. Once we were on the fourth floor, I headed straight over to the charms and picked up the scooter charm. It is an exact replica of my scooter and I want it. I want it. I'm afraid to get it though because I can't figure out how to wear it. If I get it on a bracelet, I might catch it on something and rip the charm off. If I put it on a chain, it will have to compete with the other pieces I wear around my neck. It could also poke a hole in my sternum if I get squashed. I am explaining all of this to Michael when he interrupts me and says "let's go look at rings."

We looked at rings and we had a really nice sales person who listened to everything we said about what we'd like in a ring. Then I tried on THE ring and Michael asked if we should get it. I looked at him and said "I'm going to let you decide that." Then I left him at the counter and went up to the sixth floor to have my old ring re-shaped and cleaned. Later on, when we were back at the apartment and winding down from the day, Michael told me the story of buying the ring. He had explained to the salesperson and whoever was also standing near by that five years is his assessment mark of a relationship. It used to be that at the end of five years he would either leave or get married. He's only been married once. We are coming up on our five year mark and he's at a crossroads. He doesn't want to leave, but because of student loans, financially we cannot get married. So he offered me this ring as an upgrade to the first ring and then asked if we could renew our contract for another five years. 

I looked at him and thought about it. He drives me crazy at times. We don't like the same kind of music. We don't gravitate to the same kinds of movies. There's a lot that we don't have in common. But when I say "I want chickens!", he builds a chicken coop. When I say "we should get a camper.", he does all of the research and work to get us a camper. When I am freaking out about the dog, he's doing whatever he can to help me stop freaking out. In fact, that tends to be is default job: Stop Cindy from Freaking Out. So, I said to him "I think that I will renew that five year contract." We'll see what happens in another five years. 

I am thankful for Michael. I am thankful that Josephine is not going to die from some horrible intestinal disease. I am thankful for all of the eggs the chickens are laying because it makes me think they know that Spring is just around the corner. I am thankful for you. 

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Heart in my hands

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Michael was standing in the shower with the curtain partially opened so he could talk to me while he showered. He started telling me about how he sometimes thought about writing a book. It was something he'd wanted to do ever since he was six. He went on about this for a few minutes and then suddenly switched tactics and said "but, since we all know the you're the better writer, don't you think you should be the one to write a book?" I'd been hoodwinked into a tale I thought was about him when really he was nudging me about writing. I rolled my eyes at him, turned on my heel and walked away.  This was followed by some yelling on his part about me rolling my eyes at him. 

"Cindy, you should write a book!" is not something I haven't heard before. Well meaning friends and family who read the blog see a potential for something more that I don't really see most of the time. Those other times when I actually think it might be possible, I sit down and write a few thousand words and then walk away, leaving the pages to flap around in the virtual wind of the cloud. For many years, I was someone else's cheerleader. In fact, I thought it was my job as Chris's partner to constantly encourage him in his writing endeavors, forever pressing him to write that screenplay or novel. It is odd for me to be on the flip side of all of that. It is unfamiliar territory, mostly because I still tend to focus on what I think I am not. I am thankful for Michael's belief in me even when I do not have it for myself. I am thankful for his nudges even if they make me roll my eyes. Eventually, those nudges may actually work by guilting me into writing something more than a few thousand words. 

I am also thankful for the reminder to focus on what I can be.

I am thankful for silly pumpkins and even sillier puppies (Josephine). I am thankful for the colors that are showing up in the trees. I am thankful for the two blooms on the pumpkin plants I planted last month. I am thankful for that one chicken that is laying an egg every other day. I am thankful for this giant poncho like sweater I'm wearing today and I am thankful for you. 

The Cabbage has been talking about going to Science City for weeks. We finally have a free weekend where we can do just that. So...here's to an awesomely scientific weekend and a truly truly Thankful Friday. 

THE BIG SWIRL

Bling

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Michael has gotten real hipster with his beard and mustache. If he uses enough beard wax, he can twirl his mustache up into a curl on either side of his face. Yes, it's a little bit ridiculous, but I cannot express how much I love it. It's a little bit hilarious and a little bit sexy. Lately he's been thinking about suspenders and adding them to his work clothes. He wears dress clothes to work with a tie and everything. Over the weekend, he bought himself a set of suspenders and this morning he put on his blue and white checked shirt with his pink paisley tie and his new suspenders. I can't even. I came undone. I mean, usually I get a little turned on when he's all dressed for work, especially when he rolls up his dress shirt and his forearm is showing, but add the suspenders and well...I of course returned the favor by saying something about slowly taking all of that off him and rendered him speechless. 

That's something I'm really good at. Michael can talk quite a bit, but I can take a handful of words and say them just right as to turn him into a stammering rendition of Porky Pig. 

Then, I get a phone call reminding me of a life before this one. I sent in paperwork weeks ago to close out an account that Chris had had. I didn't know about the account until recently. I had supplied them with a death certificate and a notarized family tree starting and ending with me and Chris. Yet the place still had to call and ask me if I had obituary. I went blank. Obituary? I stumbled around online looking for one. I finally came across one that was in the Chickasha News. It contained a bad photo of Chris and a short paragraph announcing the memorial service. The whole thing made me wince. I can't believe I didn't write or have someone write and submit a proper obituary when Chris died. I didn't even think about it at the time. I didn't really think about a whole lot of anything at the time. 

"Couldn't pay my respects to a dead man. Your life was much more to me." - Neko Case

I could only imagine what the woman on the other end of the line thought as I sent her a link to this homely obituary. I wanted to tell her that she should have heard the things his friends said about him at his service or to go read through his facebook page. We all thought (still think) the world of Chris. We were just too surprised by his death to write about him. When I hang up the line, I'm perturbed that they would even be calling me to ask about an obituary. Don't you think a death certificate is enough? What about that whole depressing little family tree I sent in? The woman did ask about that. "No children?" said in a voice dripping with pity. I wanted to respond "thankfully, no." but instead I just replied "no." A widow is sad enough on her own without the added element of children.

This is almost a typical day. There's always a trigger. Some triggers are worst than others, like that phone call or when that one Mumford and Sons song starts playing. I see Chris, throwing his head back and opening his mouth wide to sing like a Muppet. This image is replaced with an image of Michael making a bad motorcycle sound as he drives us down the road and then watching him crack himself up over it. I'll read some political crap in someone's feed on Facebook and think about how Chris would write a response so sharp you wouldn't know you were cut until you noticed the blood and fallacy of your own statements. I always look at Michael when getting ready to leave a tip because he does the math without even really thinking and it is always correct. Chris genuinely laughing at something, probably the Simpsons. Michael laughing while twirling the ends of his mustache. The memories I have swirl together with the memories I'm making.

It is not a bad blend of colors.  

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Cindy Maddera on Instagram: "I think I'll keep him"

"I think I'll keep him"

Lately Michael has been in the process of growing out his beard. Not too long ago, he discovered that he could twirl the ends of his mustache into a style not unlike a 1920s villain and it made us laugh and laugh. Today he's having it trimmed by a professional at a hipster beard shop. Something else that makes us laugh. I can't wait to see the results though. I got him beard balm and oil that came weeks ago. When I kiss him goodbye in the mornings, I smell cinnamon and leather and if I touch his beard while I kiss him, fingers will smell of cinnamon and leather. You know how your grandpa always smelled of some flavor of candy and aftershave? Pepaw was Old Spice and cigarettes. Michael is now cinnamon and leather. It's really quite sexy. 

Michael had a birthday yesterday. I'm going to say it even if he may not like it, but he turned 40. In the days leading up to his birthday, he has been a bit grumbly about turning forty. "I'm going to be forty" has been said in the same tone as one would say "I have to get a root canal" so many times, I've lost count. He's not as thrilled with growing older as I am. While he's grumbling, I'm standing next to him, shaking his arm and going on and on about how great it is to turn forty. Yesterday morning he jokingly said something about it being a miracle. I gave him a very serious look and said "Look back on the past 40 years and tell me it isn't." He couldn't disagree. I believe he said "act of God" which would indeed make it a miracle that he has survived this long. I am thankful for that miracle. I am thankful for the past forty years because they have shaped him into the man he is now. I'm pretty partial to the man he is now. 

It's not that I thought I would never meet someone who I'd want to give my heart to. It's just that I didn't expect to meet that kind of person. I am thankful for surprises such as this. I am thankful for the way he makes me smile. I am thankful for how he makes me feel dainty at times. I am thankful for his willingness to build the things I scheme up. I am thankful for the balance of chaos he adds to my life. I look forward to what the next forty and more years will bring for us. 

This has been good week. I've been on my yoga mat. I've met my steps goal. I am thankful for a self cleaning cat. I assume that's what happened, because one day he looked like he'd been rolled in mud and the next day he was clean. It's possible he has a sister wife. I don't even care. I am thankful for a puppy who lays next to my thigh while I type on my computer. I am thankful for you. 

Here's to a weekend full of birthday celebration and chicken coop clean out and a truly Thankful Friday!

LOVE THURSDAY

This picture makes me laugh and laugh

elephant_soap's photo on Instagram

Last week I took Michael's record player to a local record store for repairs. Actually, it was just one repair. It needed the needle cartridge replaced and then the arm had to be balanced. Michael's record player has been out of commission for some time now. I've heard him lament about not getting to listen to his records and how he needs to get that thing repaired soon. I was trying to come up with an idea for his birthday and getting the record player fixed sounded like the best idea. Until the record store called me to say that my $75 repair was looking like an over $300 repair. I guess when they plugged it in, the turntable would not turn. I looked around at the record players they had in the shop thinking that maybe I'd surprise Michael with a new one, but turns out that vintage equals expensive. I gathered up the old record player and went home to tell Michael the bad news and that I suck at birthday presents.

Michael did not believe the record store guy and immediately plugged in his record player. Low and behold the turn table started turning and I am an idiot. We both went back to the record store and one needle cartridge and new Pete Seager album later, Michael had his birthday present. He was so excited that he pulled all of his records off the shelf and organized them by genre and alphabet. We have sung along to Pete's Little Boxes a dozen times and had a dance party to Michael Jackson's Thriller. Michael is so excited about being able to play records at Thanksgiving. 

When I was little, I had those Disney records that had the picture of the movie printed into them. The soundtrack for Lady and the Tramp had the image of Lady and Tramp eating spaghetti. I also had Mickey Mouse Disco which featured Donald Duck singing Macho Duck to the tune of Macho Man. I had a lot of Disney soundtracks and spent a lot of hours singing along to Chem-chem cheminee and the Ugly Bug Ball. I did aerobics with Strawberry Shortcake on her jazzercise album. I would listen to my Mom's collection of forty fives. I would set my smurfs on the turntable at night in hopes they would come alive (something my Grandmother told me). 

It was watching Michael sort through his records that pulled all of these memories to the front part of my brain. Dusted the cobwebs off and made think "Oh yeah...I used to listen to records all the time." Lordy! The show tunes I would sing. I did not realize that the simple gift of fixing Michael's record player would bring me as much joy as it has brought to him. His enthusiasm for playing records at Thanksgiving is contagious. 

Michael has been slightly grumbly about turning a year closer to forty. He doesn't like the idea of getting old which I find slightly ironic because he likes old things. Record players, classic country, folk tunes. Every time he mentions that he is aging, I reply "isn't it great!" I'm excited about being the little old lady doing macrame in the retirement home. He complains about the amount of white showing up in his beard and I tell him that it is beautiful. More importantly though, I want to remind him that every year you survive is a year worth celebrating. Every year he has brought something to my life worth celebrating. Here's to many more years worth celebrating.

Happy Love Thursday.