THANKFUL FRIDAY

Westside Local posted a picture of my art hanging on their walls, which I in turn shared to my social media places. The prints have been up all through March and I have to make plans to remove them at the end of April. Honestly, with all that is going on, I sort of set this showing out of my mind. I had intended to go into Westside Local for lunch with coworkers, but suddenly it’s April 19th and I don’t understand what happened to time.

Where’d it all go?

I realize there is still time to get there for a lunch or something. April is not over, but coordinating my calendar around everyone else’s calendars is like trying to solve a complicated quantum physics problem. Yesterday, I spent a large part of my morning texting back and forth with Jenn about lunch dates. I finally ended up just sharing my calendar with her. We managed to schedule a lunch day and provided proof to each other that it was a real date because we both put it in our calendars. Everyone is busy with life right now because we are all basically hibernating mammals. Sure, we weren’t sleeping during of the winter months but we were only into minimal effort activities. Now that the sun’s out and the birds are chirping, we’re crawling out from under our layers and setting down our bowls of soup. The salad days are upon us! I mean sort of. I have to cover plants tonight because temps are dropping into the low 30s, but it’s a brief two day cold front and then we’re right back into balmy thunderstorm weather.

Any way. Things are happening and we’re all doing the thing.

I’m super grateful to Westside Local for giving me the opportunity to hang my pictures on their walls. This has been the most chill experience. I didn’t feel rushed to get things prepared. There was zero hassles in hanging photos, which I had to do on my own. I didn’t have to endure another artist reception where I uncomfortably had to talk to people about my art. I haven’t sold anything from this showing, but funny enough I sold a print that is not in this showing, a photo from a recent trip. I do not care that I have not sold anything. Money is not my motivation, though it is a validation. It just feels special to have some of my favorite pictures displayed on walls where complete strangers will see them. Really, that’s all I want to say about it because it still feels super awkward to talk about my art.

With that, I’m off to Des Moines with Josephine as my copilot. We’re going to spend the weekend with Heather where there will be shenanigans, bubbly drinks and beagles. If you are in the Kansas City area and find yourself looking for a nice place for a meal, I suggest you give Westside Local a try. The food is delicious, atmosphere is charming, and the art on the wall isn’t bad.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Sunday was for lawn work. I bought some plants for my tiny backyard garden that ends up being a mix of herbs and tomatoes every year. I purchased some decorative plants for the front, including a hosta plant called Queen Josephine (because, of course). As Michael and I roamed through the large plant center, our cart started to fill up and I was juggling cost, durability and beauty while reaching for this or that. I kept asking Michael “Can I get this?” and he would say “yes”, but I don’t think he realized that I was asking because I wanted him to keep me in a budget. At one point I said that he could not just let me buy and buy. Then he said “But it makes you happy.” And that is why we can’t stick to budgets. Sure, buying plants makes me a little bit happy. It also stresses me out because I am neglectful and just not into the continued maintenance of plants. I want easy, tend-for-themselves kind of plants.

Tulips came up in the front area this year, but only one bloomed so I pulled all of them out of the ground. I’ll plant new bulbs in the Fall. I trimmed back the hedge that had slightly gone wild and would try to grab you as you walked up the front path and I pulled out all the weeds. This is when I discovered the perennials I had planted last year and the year before. I was like “Hey you! I remember planting you there!” The hostas I had purchased at a plant sale in OK three years ago were also coming up and they had multiplied. I split them and redistributed them around in hopes that the whole front area will be nothing but hostas. I never would have wanted a hosta in my yard if I still lived in OK. Every time I saw them planted in someone’s landscape, I’d wince. They were sad plants. They were sad plants because they prefer a muggier climate. The hostas I have seen around my neighborhood have been large leafy green things with beautiful blooms. The first time I noticed them, I was stunned. I’m not a gardener and hostas are the easiest plants for me to work with. I told Michael that next year I am not allowed to buy new plants for the front yard, only something nice for the pretty blue pot I keep on the stoop. I can honestly say that as I prepared the front bed for the new plants and discovered the plants I had planted from previous years, I felt some joy.

I wondered for a moment if this is the reason my mother tends to her flower beds.

While I have said that I am not the gardening type, there is something about planting things permanent in the ground. One of my mother’s biggest laments when she sold and moved out of our family house in Collinsville was about all the plants she was leaving behind. She had multiple beds filled with irises and various trees and shrubs, all plants that she had tended to for more than thirty years. The soil and how the sun hits the house she lives in now is totally different then it is at the old house. A smaller yard also meant that she couldn’t just dig up everything and take it with her. She had to leave them behind for the new owner to do whatever with them. I haven’t been by the old house since we helped moved my mother out, so I have no idea if those irises are still blooming or if the magnolia tree we gave mom for mother’s day one year has survived. And while the house Mom is in now is different (her front door faces directly east), she has planted new plants in the ground and spends her time caring for them and fussing over them. Gardening seems like an activity my mom does truly for herself and because she loves it.

There is satisfaction in planting things in the dirt and watching them grow, but the real joy comes from seeing those things come back year after year.

I’m meeting my mom and sister this evening in Manhattan, KS so we can go to the tulip festival happening in Wamego which is close to Manhattan. I’ve not been to any of these places before. Wamego is a tiny town known for an eclectic Wizard of Oz museum and apparently, tulips. I’ve been told that the museum is more like someone’s personal hoarding collection of all things Wizard of Oz. There a little Toto statues all around the town and a Dutch Windmill. I am excited to see the tulips and seeing my mom and sister. The weather is predicted to be sunny and warm. I’m looking forward to spending my day in the sunshine, basking in the bright colors of the tulips, something I am not sure I would have appreciated as much if I hadn’t spent years watching my mother work in her own gardens.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

At the beginning of this week, I posted tales about the state of my body that many found relatable. Women friends have reached out, nodding heads in agreement and sharing their own personal experience. This was exactly my intention behind that entry. I am infuriated by the taboo of conversing above whispers in regards to our female bodies and well over the idea that I should feel shame about the normal things that happen to my female body. And because of the lack of interest from the medical industry, we (women) must come together and share, share, share in hopes of navigating our way through this highly uncertain phenomena of perimenopause/menopause.

Chad sent me a TikTok story about Rosalind Franklin and how Watson and Crick stole her research, which ended up winning them the Nobel Prize in 1962. This story is not new to me. All female scientists know this story. My first education on Watson and Crick though told a different story. They didn’t mention stealing any work or ideas from Franklin, but they made sure to talk about how disagreeable Franklin was to work with and, one would say, a bitch. The reality is that Rosalind Franklin was standing up for her research and herself. Watson and Crick would never have figured out the helical structure of DNA without Rosalind Franklin’s work. So instead of allowing a woman to get the credit for this discovery, they villainized her. They projected their fragile male egos and jealousy into writing a false narrative of a contentious woman.

Psst…this isn’t the first time in history fragile male egos and their jealousy has been projected to vilify a woman.

Some of you are probably wondering what the story of Rosalind Franklin has to do with woes of perimenopause. Trust me. This is all linked together. For far too long women have been pigeon holed into a projection of what men have wanted us to be and in doing so this has lessened us. Our bodies, our thoughts, our appearances are all gender constructed for the man. Deviations in said construct are not to be tolerated and should be ignored, thus putting our basic needs in the backseat and our contributions outside of childbearing, something to be stolen or unnoticed. I did not intend to set off to write yet another rant on the never ending reach of the patriarchy, but I can’t ignore that the lack of research and information around women’s health is directly linked to the patriarchy. Women have been relegated to barely even whispering words such as vagina or bleeding because men find those words unappealing or offensive, while there are whole industries built around glorifying the male ejaculation. A cock and balls is probably the most popular choice for graffiti artists and it is usually placed near the mouth of the model on the poster.

Where is the graffiti artist drawing vulvas in the mouths of poster models?

This is not a sermon for the choir kind of post. I wrote all of this on Wednesday and usually writing down my rage helps to dampen it. Instead, all I managed to do was pour gasoline all over my rage. I spent the day feeling prickly and stabby. But after another fitful night of sleep, I thought about what many of the women in my community had said about what they are going through. The most common phrase written in my comments is “I thought I was going crazy.” Of course we think this; we’re all tired and doctors wont listen to us. The number of comments I read that started with “my doctor didn’t believe me” or “three doctors later..” was ridiculous. Not only are we dealing with changes in our bodies that start with messing up the very foundation needed for basic living (which is sleep. sleep and rest are the most important things for our bodies), we are doing so while still, STILL, fighting to be the women we want to be and not the women men (or society) may want us to be. I want you to know that I am grateful for your voices and your continued hard work in this daily battle. We all deserve naps.

Let’s all go take naps!

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Long ago, I stepped back from a life where I seemed to always be burning a candle at two ends. Sometimes I think of it as stepping into a life a leisure, which is a bit absurd if you think that a life of leisure is working a nine to five job, keeping up a house, making sure pets are well spoiled, teaching two yoga class a week, and walking ten thousands steps a day. But yes, apparently I consider my current life to be one of leisure. Maybe it has been a little too leisurely for me because I recently seem to be continuously adding stuff to my social calendar. There are two back to back weekends in April where I will be out of town on adventures. My norm is to only have one weekend adventure a month, if that, particularly in the winter months. Now it seems I am making up for all the days I lived the life of a mole.

I took Tuesday off from work so that I could hang photos at Westside Local. I don’t know why I thought this would take me hours, but fortunately I was home when FedEx dumped a large cumbersome box onto my front yard. The box contained a chair I had ordered that was scheduled to arrive on Thursday. Now you can just go ahead and imagine all Lucille Ball moments now because that pretty much sums up how I managed to get the large cumbersome box into the house. The chair is for the living area and it is the chair I wanted for that space to begin with but ended up compromising on a chair I did not love. That chair has served it’s purpose and now others can see why I did not love that chair because their butts have been sitting in it long enough to recognize the flaws of said chair. The new chair is a nice orange, is smaller and less bulky than the old chair. And I love it.

I also thought that by taking Tuesday off, I would have time to rest up before heading out to see Jenny Lewis in concert. This is a concert I have dreamed about for years and even though it was happening on a school night and the show didn’t start until 8 with the opener, I didn’t want to miss this opportunity. The concert was at the Truman which does not have seating unless you purchased the VIP balcony section. I was too cheap to do that when I bought our tickets months ago, thinking the balcony at the Truman would give terrible views. I know different now and was told that “we are grownups and can afford the slightly more expensive seat.” I had terrible views from the floor area, but this did not keep me from nonstop dancing for an hour and half. At one point Michael brought me a cup of water and suggested I drink it all. I thanked him for that when we left the venue and started our walk back to where we parked. He said with a little bit of awe in his voice “You didn’t stop moving the entire time.”

I can’t help it. Music just makes me move my body.

Wednesday evening, I met (Nurse) Jenn for dinner. She told me about her full dance card and the number of times she had been asked by others to reschedule our date. She had held firm, refusing to reschedule our time together. It’s the dumbest thing. I can literally walk to her house, but finding time on our schedules for each others requires the moon and stars to be in a very specific alignment pattern. I had also considered the possibility of rescheduling our date for a couple of reasons, but stayed committed. Jenn told me that even though all of these other things were going on, I am one of the few people in her life who “fills her cup.” And by this point, she really needed a refill. I can say the same is true for her. Jenn is really good at getting me to talk about things that I usually leave floating around inside my head. Our time together is equal parts listening and sharing. She thinks I’m amazing and is very vocal about it. I think she’s the cool girl I have always been trying to impress, but I also think she’s spectacular.

So here we are on Friday and I have to say that I’m exhausted. I’m looking forward to a weekend of more leisure than adventure. Our biggest adventure will be swapping vehicles around oil change appointments while getting the Cabbage to piano lessons. The fox, chicken, bag of feed and one row boat riddle is practice for living life. But while my body is tired, I am entering the weekend with a full heart. I am grateful for full dance cards and most especially grateful for spending time with someone who fills my heart.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Monday and Tuesday this week, I rode Valerie (the scooter) to work. Monday’s ride was spectacular. Tuesday’s ride was…not so great. I left the house under fairly mild conditions. The high for the day was 75 degrees, but I knew a cold front was moving in at some point. I bargained on being home before the front moved in. I was wrong. When I left work at 6:00 PM the temperature was 43 degrees. I had to stop at a local pub for an AIDS Walk Open Volunteer meeting. When I left the bar at 7:00 PM, the temperature was 38 degrees with strong gusts of wind. I was four blocks from the house when it started sleeting. It was not even remotely ideal scooter riding conditions, but I did it and I’m still alive.

I am notoriously territorial about my scooter. I don’t want anyone other than me riding Valerie. The same was true with V. I know Chris rode V once because that’s how he discovered my back tire was bad. He didn’t ask permission; he just did it. So there could have been other times. I don’t know. Once, I let my brother ride V home from work. He and Katrina were finishing up a long motorcycle ride to Canada and had stopped at my house. I went to work on V and let them have my car for the day, but at the end of the day, the city was hit with a downpour. My brother had all the rain repellant gear with him. So they came and got me in the car. I drove my car home and he drove the scooter so I wouldn’t get rained on. I am forever grateful he was there to do that.

Michael jokes about my territorial attitude towards the scooter and needles me about letting him ride my scooter constantly. Look, I am often the passenger when he’s driving a four wheeled vehicle. I am often behind him when we are on scooter rides. I do not approve of his driving techniques and this is why I will not let him drive my scooter. There is also something to be said about having things of your own. I would never ask to ride Michael’s scooter. For one thing, I’m not confident I have the strength to handle it. His scooter is heavier and has a bigger engine. For another thing, I don’t feel the need to share everything.

I struggled with my identity for a long time after Chris died; not that I think my identity is solely tied into a thing. It is a simplification of all the things, thoughts and ideas that are truly my own. I had so thoroughly woven my identity with Chris, that I couldn’t really tell what part of my actions or thoughts were Chris’s actions and thoughts or my own. I never noticed this while we were Chris and Cindy mostly because the two of us were so often on the same page about things both emotionally and intellectually. But when he was gone, I wasn’t sure how to be just Cindy. Eventually I figured out that I’ve always been just Cindy, that my identity wasn’t absorbed or defined by my relationship with Chris, but rather enhanced by it.

Being a little territorial about some things like my scooter or my writing or my ideas is my way of maintaining my own identity. Women, especially, have been trained to feel guilt for wanting/needing something of their very own, that we are being selfish for wanting our own time and space. This is yet another patriarchal lie that I am burning to the ground. Several times this week, I have looked at my reflection in the mirror and been surprised by my own cuteness. I have looked and thought “Hey there, cutie.” I may have even said it out loud and when I have finished taking note of my cuteness, I have whispered “you are deserving.” I am deserving of my own space and time. I deserve to be a little bit selfish.

Hey there, cutie. You also deserve to be a little bit selfish.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

It is currently Wednesday and I’m thinking about Friday’s gratitude posting. When I look out the window from my standing point at my work desk, I have a perfect view of the fountain in the center of the circle drive. More than a dozen robins are taking turns between being at the fountain and the trees that surround the fountain. I have seen people walking outside without coats on and this weekend I’m checking the tires for all two wheeled vehicles. This was never a Fake Spring, but the real deal with an the occasional appearance of Fake Winter. The air feels like Spring and tastes like adventure.

I gave Michael the option of joining me on my Moose Hunt in June and he got pretty excited about hunting mythical creatures. Months ago, I made a plea for a return visit to New Orleans. I know we were just there, but I feel like I didn’t absorb enough aiyee. I didn’t eat enough crawfish or slurp down enough (hardly any) raw oysters. Ever since leaving from New Orleans, I’ve been craving that place more than I would expect. I might love the Pacific Northwest, but I left my soul in New Orleans years and years ago. It has owned a piece of me since I was three. I didn’t have to twist any of Michael’s arms to get him to agree to another visit. That trip is booked and planned and I hadn’t expected to be planning any other trips for the year.

But then the Moose Hunt.

And a weekend tulip festival with my mom and sister.

And some gal camp trips.

And…

And…

I don’t want to spend a lot of money or even travel a great distance, but I want to fill this year up with tiny adventures. I did not know this at first, even though, well before the New Year, I had made some sort of word collage of wants for 2024 and “seeing a moose” and “solo camp trips” made an appearance in this collage. I didn’t really believe that I would get any more proactive than writing those wants down somewhere. I didn’t believe I would ever say the wants out loud. Yet I have said them out loud and in doing so it feels like I have cast spells. This spell casting has me feeling lighter and hopeful. There have been times when the thought of planning and actually going places has felt exhausting. Finding the place to stay. Packing the car. Making the drive to the place. Just the idea of all of it has felt heavy and leaves me in need of a nap. But something is different now.

This feels exciting.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I spent most of Saturday in our basement framing prints that I will hang on the walls at Westside Local in March. When I ran out of frames, I took a break for lunch and discovered that the rest of the frames that I had ordered were sitting on my front porch. So after lunch, I went back down to finish framing. Once that was done, I looked around at the cluttered mess of the basement and set to work breaking down boxes and reorganizing shelves. I filled a box with kitchen items that hasn’t been touched in more than year and filled a bag with garbage. Then I moved over to the camp gear and pulled items from the old camp kitchen that I could use in my car camp kitchen. I organized all of my car camping equipment into one spot so that it’s easy for me to grab and throw into my car.

It was a very productive day and I started to get excited about the possibility of throwing my camp gear into my car and spending a weekend in the woods. Recently I posed a question to a group of friends about how far I might need to drive in order to see a moose. Several agreed that straight north into the Minnesota/Canada border area was probably my best bet. That’s about an eight to ten mile drive. Totally doable. I could easily take a long weekend and go for a moose hunt. I got so excited about the idea that I started looking at maps and moose sighting forums. Moose sighting forums. They exist, probably because there are people like me that do not believe that moose are real. I’ve settled on a visit to a place just north of Duluth, MN. I’d really like to make that happen this summer.

Any way, I fell for the trap that is Fake Spring. I allowed myself to settle into the warmer temps and start to dream of outdoor adventures. Of course, the weather has flipped back to cold. There’s even an 87% for snow today. It’s snowing right now! Which seems just about right since I’m driving to meet up with Amy and Deborah for our annual gals weekend. When I look at the crystal ball that is the weather predictions, I see more flip flopping temps in the following week and it makes everything feel a bit manic. I am practicing patience and preparing for the day Fake Spring becomes Real Spring. And you know what? I feel like I didn’t eat enough soup this winter. So this gives me more soup days to enjoy.

Now to address the elephant in the room that centers around the events of this week.

I started writing this entry on Wednesday, before the Super Bowl Parade and the mass shooting that occurred at the end of the celebration. The Super Bowl Parade has and is a celebration that involves day drinking. The state of Missouri is also a Right To Carry state, with no permit requirements for handguns. It is a miracle we have not had this tragedy happen before. When looking back through archives, the last mass shooting in Kansas City occurred in 1933 during the Kansas City Massacre, which ironically was also at Union Station. Comprehensive gun control is on my list of wants and needs that I vomit out to my senators and representatives every week, which is starting to feel about as productive as a thought and a prayer. And that’s about all I will say here.

I will say that I am grateful for the texts from loved ones checking in to make sure we were and are safe.

I am grateful that my Kansas City friends who went or almost went, are also safe.

I am grateful to be spending the weekend away from the city.

I am grateful to be spending the weekend talking and laughing with Amy and Deborah.

I am thankful for the promise of outdoor adventures.

I am thankful for soup days.

I am thankful for you.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

In 1996, Chris and I drove to Kansas City, KS to see Sting in concert. It was the Mercury Falling tour and our first concert together. We had no idea who the opener was going to be and when Tracy Chapman stepped out onto the stage, Chris and I turned to each other and practically squealed with glee. Tracy Chapman was the icing on this cake of a concert. The two women sitting in front of us left the concert when Tracy Chapman left the stage. They paid Sting amount of moneys to see her and I don’t blame them. Seeing Tracy Chapman step out onto the stage to sing her song Fast Car with Luke Combs at Sunday’s Grammy’s made every one I know burst into tears for good reasons.

Chris’s birthday was on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, while getting ready for work, I asked Alexa to play songs by David Bowie. There is not an obvious link between Chris and David Bowie. We loved Bowie’s music and it was often featured in our daily playlists. We never got to see him concert, which is a bummer, but we never really talked about the possibility of going to a Bowie concert (mostly because we figured we could never afford it). My link with Chris and David Bowie is a bit more subtle. Many of you know that David Bowie died of liver cancer in 2016. Some of you may not realize that Bowie died two days after celebrating his 69th birthday. Chris also died of liver cancer within days of his birthday and it’s taken me a long time to say that this is how Chris died. For years, when asked, I’d tell people that Chris died from a large tumor on his liver that was wrapped around his bile duct. It felt (sometimes feels) that “liver cancer” is too simple of a description and the word ‘cancer’ implies that it can be removed and treated. None of these were options for us. There was no excision of a tumor or chemo treatments. We were handed a sheet of paper containing a list of phone numbers for hospice care.

Chris died four days after celebrating his 41st birthday.

Concerts were our church. Movie scripts were his scripture. Girls on Film by Duran Duran started playing in the car on my way home yesterday and I sang along with Chris’s lyrics “Dogs on stilts”. I don’t think I can sing it any other way. Chris lacked the ability to carry a tune, but was more than skilled in linking a tune to a scene. In December of 2011, Chris and I saw our final concert together, Florence and the Machine. He was very sick and in a lot of pain, but we didn’t know then about the tumor or the cancer. He spent most of the concert sitting on the floor and we did not stay for the entire show. The morning Chris died, I drove to work in hopes of getting an hour or two of tasks accomplished. Hospice had settled into our home by then and Chris was comfortable. His mother and brother were there, so I thought this would be a good time to step away for bit. As I made the drive, Dog Days are Over by Florence and Machine came on the radio. I was at my desk for ten minutes before they called me to tell me that Chris had passed.

I wanna hear one song without thinking of you… -Me and My Dog by Boygenius

I have carried a trunk full of guilt and anger over Chris’s last morning for years. I should have been there. He’s such a jerk for choosing the moment I leave the house to draw his last breath. What kind of idiot am I for thinking I could ‘step out for a bit’? If I’d been there would he still be breathing? That is a particularly horrific thought. A day and a half before Chris died, he stopped being the sharp witted person we all knew and loved. He was unconscious and incoherent. The Chris we all knew and loved had already left the building. Chris didn’t choose that moment to leave out of spite or meanness. It was just his time and it was easier for the both of us for me to not be present. My presence made it harder for him leave and he really needed to leave. Knowing this is why I don’t carry that trunk around with me all the time now. I might move it from one place to another from time to time. It is always in the room with me, but I am no longer carrying it every waking moment.

The day the doctor handed us the phone number for hospice care, I was forced to recognize that there was nothing I could do in this situation. Being put into this absolute position broke my brain. It didn’t happen all at once. It took phone calls to various cancer centers and the inability to get Chris’s pain managed for it to sink in. There was nothing I could do to fix this. With time, I’ve started seeing this as less of a failure on my part and more of a surrender. When I tell my students to surrender to their final relaxation it is my cue to them to give in and allow for relaxation. There is a floaty feeling that happens when your body completely sinks into your mat and you have surrendered. It is not dissimilar to the feeling I have when I set down that trunk of guilt and anger.

I am often asked if it ever gets any easier, this whole grief thing, and I still after all this time don’t know how to answer. There is not a day that passes where I don’t think of him or miss him terribly. But I have surrendered myself to the reality that Chris no longer has a physical presence on this planet. That particular reality has become part of that trunk I sometimes move around. The answer to the question of ease has a yes and no answer. That trunk is heavy and takes up space, but it is filled with things I can’t completely dump. On the days I’m carting that around, my answer is no. On the days when I’m not carrying it, but I can see the trunk in the room, my answer is yes.

There is gratitude to be found in the surrender.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Tuesday morning, I peeled my tired ‘don’t wanna’ ass out of bed and then pulled on some clothes. I opened my closet and reached in for my walking shoes and Josephine nearly lost her mind. Josephine does not have a big enough body for containing joy. When she sees my walking shoes, she knows we’re going for a walk and her joy explodes from her body in a couple of ways. She will parkour herself all around my bedroom and grab the nearest toy to flip around in the air. Then she will throw her little body at me in a demand to tie my shoes faster. Once she is harnessed and leashed, she will grab a section of the leash and pull me towards the front door. This is her reaction every time, not just because it’s been a few months since our last walk.

Michael and I are and will continue to be busy with various things over the next few months. Michael has several after school meetings and play rehearsals. I get home late on Tuesdays because I teach an evening yoga class. This makes me feel bad for Josephine because she has no one to pet her all day or play a game of tug-o-war. It is a long day for all of us. The weather is tolerable this week, so I was determined to at least do this Tuesday morning walk. I woke up before my alarm (not unusual) and looked at the clock. My whole body groaned. I was a little bit sore form the previous day’s yoga experience. My eyes were crusty. It was cold in the house and staying in bed, even though I would not get any real sleep, felt soooooo much easier than getting out of bed.

But I didn’t stay in bed.

I rolled to one side and peeled myself up to a seated position. Then I firmly placed all four corners of the bottom of my feet into the floor. I said to myself “get up.” even though I still didn’t want to, but once I was dressed and walking, my body changed it’s mind about the ‘don’t wanna’. Our way to the park felt slower than normal, mostly because Josephine had to stop and investigate all of the things along the way. Side note: Josephine is part pig. She grunts and snorts with her nose to the ground for 95% of the walk. At one point, she sniffed a spot on the ground, took five steps before shaking her head in surprise and circling back for another sniff. We saw two raccoons slink their way across the street (blocks from our house) and heard one owl claiming the area has his. We were the only ones in the park or out in the neighborhood. There was only the faintest of light to the East as we walked the last block back to the house.

I know that not to far from now, there will be more than just a faint bit of light as we make our way home from our walks.

Why is it so hard to get started? What happens to my body during these months that makes it impossible to want to move?!? It’s like my blood thickens to maple syrup but it doesn’t make me warmer. I am never warm. My hands are so cold that if I were to touch you, you would think you had been touched by death. I starting writing this entry thinking that I would immediately post this because I figured that getting up to walk the dog would only happen on Tuesday, but Wednesday morning there I was bundled up and walking Josephine through the neighborhood. Then I did it again on Thursday and Friday. By Thursday, this was starting feel like a gratitude post and I delayed posting. I’ve also been a little bit lazy about my writing, spending my “free time” playing The Bee or doing the NYTimes crossword. I recognize that winter is far from over and that I should expect at least two more miserably cold with possible snow events before the end of March. I also know that today a large rodent made some predictions about the weather for the next few weeks. But today, right now, I am not focused on the future or the what ifs to come.

I am grateful for a week that contained buckets of sunshine every day and temperatures that allowed us to thaw before the next cold front comes along.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Last week, Micheal had some sort of a cold, but I kind of ignored it. He didn’t really act sick except for that one morning when he said “I don’t feel good.” But still, I blew it off which I have apologized for because now I’m the one with the cold. Not too long ago I saw some joke meme tweet thing of a conversation between the brain and the body. The body was saying “We need more fluids!” and the brain replied “I just gave you tons of fluids! What are you doing with all of the fluids?! Are you making mucous?” Then the body doesn’t respond because that is exactly what it’s doing with all of the fluids. I have never found anything more relatable than this. I wouldn’t be so mad about it all if I hadn’t just gotten over the cough and funk that I had before Christmas. This has been a week of cold medicine and neti pots and lots of Kleenex. Then, I threw in some red light therapy for good luck.

Last Saturday, I stepped on a scale for the first time in over six months and for the first time ever, I didn’t give a flip about the number that appeared. My uncaring of the number did not come from a depressed state. I just didn’t care. I was standing on the scale purely for reference since it was also my birthday. If I kept a lab notebook on myself, this would be important data to add, but I don’t. So, I filed the info in my mental lab notebook. My weight is a reflection of my current state of activity level, which always decreases as I go into hibernation mode. In the Spring time, I know I will emerge from semi-hibernation to dog walks and bicycle rides. The season will shift from rich lasagnas to tomato salad and the number on the scale will still just be a number. This is the thing that forty eight year old Cindy would like to pass onto seventeen year old Cindy: The scale numbers are a social construct.

Pear, apple, hourglass, etc are all social constructs for the shape of a woman’s body.

Each year, I gain a new perspective and a little bit more wisdom about this body that my soul inhabits. Each year, I gain a new perspective and a bit more wisdom about my soul and living each day with loving kindness. The only disappointing thing about my birthday this year was that I was too busy and isolated to take time to thank each person individually for their Happy Birthday wishes left on my Facebook timeline. I took the Facebook app off of my phone years ago and only have access to it when I’m on my computer or iPad in a wifi area. So I came home from a day of absorbing yoga knowledge to a timeline filled with love and joy. Which is the only reason for social media.

This body and soul is not large enough and can not contain the amount of gratitude that I have for each of you and for those who make the choice to use these platforms for good.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Thursday morning, I dropped Josephine off at the groomers at 7:45 AM and then promptly locked myself out of my car. I locked myself out of everything. My phone. My wallet. My lunch. All inside the car. I borrowed the phone at the groomer’s and called my insurance company for road side service. This took twenty minutes and my estimated time for service was 100-130 minutes. I waited three hours, walking back and forth, standing near my car, hopping up and down. Every time I tried waiting it out inside, Josephine would start whining. So I stood outside most of the time. I finally gave up and borrowed the phone again to call a locksmith. Then I waited twenty minutes and paid $270 to have the nicest young man with the thickest Italian accent open my car.

I am not kidding when I say that I hugged him.

Seriously, it was the most ridiculous morning and I don’t even know why, but I went ahead and went on to work even though half the day had passed and I was going to have to leave at 3:00 to get Josephine. I just didn’t know what else to do with myself. So without much thinking, I headed to the closest place where I could address my physical needs: bathroom, coffee, food, warmth. That place happened to be work. I am just grateful to be able to go somewhere. That is the very first time I have ever locked myself out of my vehicle. That seems surprising, but it’s true. I’ve locked myself out of the house, but there have been people inside it. All I had to do was knock. I once locked myself out of an email account because I could not for the life of me remember my password. But I had, until just now, never locked myself out of my vehicle. I did it with gusto too.

Later, when I had finally made it to work and warmed up, I texted a friend about what I had done. A giggle bubbled up as I read the things I had written. Then I couldn’t help myself. I just started laughing and laughing. Because it was so much more than just being locked out of my car. I hadn’t had coffee or breakfast. I had no way to pay for anything. I had no way to contact anyone unless I asked to borrow a phone, but who would I call because I don’t have numbers memorized. Even then, who would I call that could come get me and do anything to help this situation? I was in true pioneer wild west territory.

My mother went through a phase where she continuously locked herself out of her car. Her colleagues bought her a special key chain that held her keys on a retractable cord attached to a belt loop. It was a brief phase, but it is something I thought about while I waited for someone to come unlock my car. I hopped from one foot to the other and thought “Oh no…it’s happening.” Then I shrugged and thought “good for me.” There are worse traits I could inherit, but I think I’ve inherited the best of my mother, like her resilience and stubborn independence. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being a bit stubborn and independent. My mother celebrated a birthday on Monday and I am grateful that she could do so.

Today is the last day that this body will ever be forty seven years old. I asked Alexa this morning to play the top hits from 1976 and it started playing a song by the band Kansas. This was followed up with an ABBA song and I remembered that I am not only an inauguration baby, but I’m a baby of the Disco-Rock Wars. Which is probably why I love roller rinks and mosh pits. I left the house singing “There was something in the air that night. The stars shone bright, Fernando.” Even though it’s dangerously cold outside, I felt the sun on my face and decided that today is going to be so much better than yesterday.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

This is one of those weeks where it is challenging to not fill this post up with words of negativity and despair. Tuesday evening, Michael and I parked vehicles in our driveway with the idea that he would be leaving first in the morning. We thought for sure that they would not cancel another day of school. The main roads were clear or mostly clear, but around 8:30 that evening Michael received the call that there would not be school on Wednesday. So we pulled on our boots and coats and went out to swap out vehicles. It was not a well timed or well choreographed event and I ended up having to drive away because a car was coming and Michael wasn’t in the driveway yet. Once you are headed east on my street, there’s not a lot of options for turning around and I ended up slipping and sliding my way up hill on an uncleared neighborhood street. At one point, I thought for sure that I was going to be stuck. It was dark. I wasn’t wearing my glasses and I didn’t have my phone. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled my car into the driveway just as Michael was locking up the house so he could come find me.

This almost could be a metaphor for the week as a whole. There was a lot of slipping and sliding and moments of feeling stuck. The accouterments for snowy weather are heavy and cumbersome. More care has to be taken just by walking to your car. I could have very easily been stranded and stuck in a snow drift, but no one had to come rescue me. I made it home. In spite of the drudgery of this week, I have gotten out of bed every morning and I have done my seven minutes of exercise while waiting for water to boil. Then I have sat in what I call Puppy Meditation. This is where I sip hot lemon and ginger water while petting and snuggling with Josephine. I made time for my own yoga practice and had a few dance parties at my desk. I even made it to the DMV to renew my driver’s license. I arrived fifteen minutes before they opened, was second in line and first to the licensing counter. It took me ten minutes to complete all the tasks, a task I had been dreading since my notice for renewal arrived two months ago.

While this particular week has felt like the length of an entire month, there has been goodness in it to be grateful for. In fact, I will make the argument that weeks that tend to feel more grueling and last longer than some, actually contain more moments of gratitude. Those moments are more clear and vivid in my memory than all the rest of the muck from the week and Puppy Meditation is probably the thing I am most grateful for. I tend to feel guilty for not taking Josephine on walks in the winter mornings. Sitting with her in the mornings and gently rubbing her belly reminds me that she doesn’t care what we are doing in the mornings as long as we are doing it together. She might even prefer Puppy Meditations to the walks. Petting dogs lowers cortisol (bad stress hormone) and increases oxytocin (feel good bonding hormone). Puppy Meditations is not sitting doing nothing.

I am grateful to be transitioning back into a routine that benefits my physical and mental well being.

Today’s weather has so far turned out to be not quite as bad as predicted. We did not receive the layer of ice followed up with more snow, which it is doing right now. Schools are closed again today, but mostly because of the severe cold. My weather app says that it is currently fourteen degrees outside, but feels like negative three. This is a weekend for mugs of tea and bowls of hot soup, for wrapping up in blankets and piling your lap with pets.

This is a weekend for making a choice of stillness.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Michael and I declared an ‘only stockings’ present year for Christmas and he filled my stocking with ridiculous desk toys. I now own a “Badass” button that tells me how wonderful I am every time I press it and a tiny glowing crystal ball that continuously tells me to '“ask again later.” The Ghostbuster’s trap, I was told, was really more of gift for Chris. So I did the very most Chris thing I could do. I printed out a tiny label with the label maker and gave the trap a name that implies it is a trap for ideas. Good ideas or bad ideas. The trap is an equal opportunity idea catcher.

At the same time I was making the trap label, Amy sent me a picture of a set of books that she would probably have purchased for Chris. It was a series of books of William Shakespeare’s version of Star Wars. She included a shot of dialogue from Scene 1 that included the line “he beepeth on and on.” Michael has a habit of asking me if I know about subject A and then explaining subject A to me even though I said ‘yes, I know about that.’ Now, all I want to do is interrupt him with “Must you, Sir, beepeth on and on?” I am truly surprised that I do not have this set of books already sitting on my bookshelf because while there are many things I got rid of, books were kept. I mean, we should all have our very own copy of Catch 22 stacked next to our bibles (yes, I have a bible, know thine enemy and all that).

I’ve told Michael my theory of soul absorption and how I believe that I have absorbed most of Chris’s soul. It is the reason why he is not surprised when certain phrases fall out of my mouth. He has yet to notice that I sometimes cross my eyes and stare at passengers in the cars stopped next to us at stoplights, not unlike Chris’s goofy-faced alter ego. This was the face he used for Rosco, the hitchhiker Chad picked up during his cross country road trip, the trip that started our friendship with Chad. I have more pictures of this face than I do of Chris’s actual face and I’m not mad about it. We recently started watching Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones and in the very first episode, we listened to a woman who is 102 talk about the importance of laughter, but this is not the first time I have heard such advice. I have experienced it first hand. The amount of laughing Chris and I did is why I never really consider anything I did as ‘grownup’ until I was thirty four and moving us to Kansas City.

The years when I feel I have laughed the least are the years I have felt decrepit and ancient and those are the years I regret the most.

When I started writing this entry, I couldn’t remember the name Chad had given to his imaginary hitchhiker and when I asked him about it, he replied “What made you think of that?” It was so many years ago, so many life changes ago. I told Chad it was because I was writing about Chris’s dumb face, which is true, but it’s really because I’m holding onto joyful moments and reminding myself to be silly. I don’t even need to look at Chris’s goofy face to start grinning; all I have to do is think about it.

I am making it a practice to laugh daily, but I do beepeth on and on.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’ve been battling a head cold all week, pretending that there’s nothing wrong with me. Each day has been a progression from sore throat to nasal congestion to barking cough. I refuse to give into the idea that I am actually sick because there’s been no fever or aches. I’ve tested negative for COVID three times now. On Wednesday morning I didn’t nudge Michael to get up. Instead he came to me and when he placed his hand on my shoulder, I opened my eyes and croaked “I’m getting up!” Then we sort of argued because he said “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” and I replied “I feel just fine…cough cough…..I’m not sick.” This week is a short week leading into a fairly long break for the whole institute. Our microscope calendar is full and I have several projects I’m helping with. I may have the available sick time, but I didn’t feel like I had the luxury to use it. Besides, the cough hit by Wednesday and that’s always the last symptom in the head cold progression.

So, I am not sick.

Though, if I was sick (and I’m not saying that I am, just if I was), now is a pretty good time for it. I have been relieved of all chores and duties until Saturday morning when we go get haircuts. My job today is rest and an eventual shower because the Cabbage wants to have dinner at the ramen place down the street tonight. I will shower for soup. The following days will be quiet ones. Our Christmas with the Cabbage is on Christmas Adam/Eve. Our Christmas day will be spent with friends for a low-key dinner with puzzles and games. We will spend two days with my family in Oklahoma and then an evening with Michael’s mom’s. Then our plans are to stay still and ring in the new year quietly at home.

During my Wednesday chair yoga class, I gave my student a little bit of extra time in final relaxation. As I helped each student gather and arrange cushions and blankets to be comfortable for a long savasana, I told them to let this time be their gift to themselves. Sometimes we need to bribe ourselves in order to allow for moments that may seem splurgy. Being still and resting for fifteen minutes feels like a splurge to many of us, me most of all. There’s something about ‘gifting’ those fifteen minutes to yourself that feels like permission. I told Michael I didn’t want anything for Christmas this year. I just couldn’t think of anything that I wanted that I would not buy for myself. I told him to save the money for when we go back to New Orleans. We are only doing stockings, but I think I will follow my own advice and gift myself a holiday of rest.

I hope that you are able to give yourself a similar gift this holiday season.

I am grateful to have the luxury of a long holiday that allows for rest. I think that this is my last Thankful Friday entry for the year. I think that having a holiday of rest includes taking a break from this space. Before we know it, we will be blinking in a brand new year, a year for new adventures. I am excited for the adventures awaiting me. Some of them are going to be big. So, with gratitude, I am taking this moment to rest and prepare my body for those adventures.

Many Happy Holidays to you.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

In these last few weeks of December, I’m finding myself to be at a loss. I’ve finished my Christmas shopping. Things at work are slowing down so that no one is on a microscope on Mondays and the calendar doesn’t fill up until Thursdays. Then I have two days of being busy and the rest of my time has been spent reading up on live cell nuclear stains. I am also spending a large amount of headspace on squashing the feeling that I’m missing something. For instance, did I really book the Airbnb for Christmas with my family or did I dream that part? Have I purchased enough gifts to make all the people happy? Have I made any real plans for the coming year or are those still roaming free-range in my head?

I can tell you that the answers to those questions are yes, probably not, and a nope.

I’m sure that being this organized around the holidays is meant to be a good a thing, leaving time for just enjoying the moments. This is the reason that I make the effort to be ahead of the game this time every year, so I can sit back and bask in the holiday glow. Maybe do some baking (that’s hilarious and I said maybe). Avoid the crowded mess of people shopping for last minute gifts. Turns out that I’m not so good at basking and the doer inside me can’t stop thinking that I need to do something.

Karen Walrond sent out a recent newsletter with journalling prompts for reflecting on the past year and taking time to celebrate your joy. I know many people who really had a rough go of things in 2023 and they’re more than ready to start anew in 2024. This makes me think back on years when I had a rough go of things and I wonder if I have the experience to encourage people to take a moment to celebrate your victories of this year before moving on. I’ve had plenty of years when my joy to celebrate is just the act of getting out of bed in the mornings. I don’t feel that 2023 has been much of a struggle for me. I did some things that challenged me and were outside of my comfort zone, but those things led me to goodness.

I have yet to sit down and do any of the journal prompts, but I did go ahead and compile an album of pictures for the year. There are pictures from this year where I had to pause and ask myself “Did that happen this year?!” not because I don’t remember it happening. Some of it just feels like is happened ages ago. Usually my end-of-year slide show goes on and on. This year, I made a real effort to only include pictures with people and animals, but it was hard to not throw in some pictures that I took of places. Some of my best pictures do not include a single person and they were taken in moments of great joy. But today, I’m celebrating moments of joy that includes the wonderful people in my life.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

There was a house just outside of Collinsville that every year, would have the most beautiful and elegant Christmas light display. We would pass by this house every time we drove into and out of town. One year they did not decorate at all. I can remember riding in the backseat and driving by the house on our way home from an evening church service and asking my parents why the house was not decorated for Christmas. My mother answered “They had a death in the family and will not be celebrating this year.” I remember nodding my head in understanding. We had experience our own loss right around the Holidays a few years earlier. There was a tree that year and presents, but very little joy.

This feels like an age old question: When is it appropriate to celebrate during and after times of great loss?

Michael and I are not Jewish, but during our first holiday season together, we listened to a story about celebrating Hanukkah on NPR. We found the story to be so beautiful and moving that we decided right then to start our own tradition of lighting the menorah. Over the years, it has become the most meaningful holiday ritual for me. We do not do eight days of gifts. We do have latkes on the first night, but the most important part is that we all take a moment to stand in one place together, lighting the candles and being grateful. Merging families with different backgrounds and traditions can be messy. We both came from a particular way of life that included other people, traditions we were use to in previous relationships. Celebrating Hanukkah became our tradition.

I woke up around 3 AM on Thursday morning and then laid in my bed thinking about the Palestinians in Gaza and their families who live in places outside of Gaza who are hearing of loved ones being slaughtered. I couldn’t stop thinking about how more than half of the prisoners released by Israel during the cease fire were all eighteen years or younger. Many of all of the prisoners released were being held without charge. I can’t imagine that the continued bombings of civilians in Gaza is going to bring about the release of the remaining Israeli hostages either. My heart is split between the Palestinians who are suffering from losing most of their family and their homes and the Israeli families who lost family members in the Hamas attack or are still waiting the fate of their family members. How do you celebrate a holiday so connected to this suffering?

I had to go back to all of those years ago when I heard that story on NPR. I had to remember what it was about that story that struck me with the beauty of Hanukkah and how it embodies the daily gratitude practice. I thought of that first Christmas after we lost J. No one felt the holiday spirit, but we gathered and celebrated because it was always J’s favorite thing. We celebrated to honor the one we had lost. This year with Hanukkah, I am lighting the candles to honor those we have lost but also to spread light.

Praised are you, lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has given us life and sustained us and enabled us to reach this season.

This year, I am lighting the candles for those who cannot. This year, I am bringing light to those trapped in the dark.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

This week has been hard work. Even though the scheduling for microscope usage has been light, there have been serious troubleshooting issues on some them. One problem was so bad that after spending two hours trying to figure out how to fix it, I gave up and called the company who made the system. Then while I waited for them to call me back, a coworker went to look at the problem and promptly fixed it in about five minutes. It was a really dumb fix and easy for me to miss considering the software that runs this particular system is a complicated nightmare. I also understand the benefits of having fresh eyes on a problem and this is one of the reasons we all work so well together as a team.

Still, it was frustrating.

Then there were some difficult conversations that needed to happen in my personal life. I have hope that those discussion will lead to good changes, but I am remaining realistic in abilities. Changes do not happen overnight. The results from these difficult conversations is that I’ve seen a glimpse of an old self, a less numb Cindy. For a really long time, I’ve been like a wooly mammoth trapped in the tundra and I’m starting to thaw out. I’m a little tentative. I mean, imagine being a wooly mammoth and being awakened into today’s time. It’s disorienting and exhilarating and a little depressing given the state of things. I am less tolerant, but leading with kindness and only time will tell if good changes unfold. I am prepared either way because I have come to realize that holding myself in one spot for so long is exhausting.

I’m tired of being tired.

Today is the first day of the last month of the year. Usually this thought would set off alarm bells in my body. I could give you a long list of things that I have left to do before Christmas or a whole bunch of woes on what I didn’t accomplish in 2023. I will not be giving out that list because I don’t feel like I have an unmanageable task list to complete and I don’t care about the things I didn’t accomplish in this year. I was going to say that I have plans for next year, plans that include taking responsibility for my health and setting clear boundaries in my relationship. This is true. I do have plans but I am not waiting for the start of a new year to start implementing those plans. Every morning we wake up, we set new intentions or maybe just commit to an old intention and then do our best to honor those intentions. I don’t need to wait for a ball to drop to start doing things and I don’t need the pressure of making the year count to discourage me. Switching my mindset to this way of thinking is the reason I am not panicking this year.

I am excited about the things to come in the New Year. I have pictures going into a local restaurant in March and some fun travel plans. I think maybe I’ll track down a moose and finally see a real live moose in 2024. It may be time to drag out my tent and invite myself on some of my friend Melissa’s camping trips. I miss camping and reorganizing my camp gear to fit into my car is a great winter time activity. At the same time, I’m proud of the things I did accomplish this year. My pictures hung on a wall inside a freaking Starbucks. I sold my art! I fell in love with riding a bicycle around this city. My four week beginning yoga class was so well liked that they asked me to just keep teaching a beginner like yoga class (there’s a giant picture of me pretending to teach yoga in the Stowers Report, which is a little embarrassing). And probably most importantly, I have actually survived without major injuries this year.

I have gratitude for the things coming my way, but more than anything I am grateful for this moment right now and opportunities to work on today’s intention.

FRIENDS LIKE THESE

Our weekend plans with my brother and sister-in-law fell through rather suddenly and it kind of paralyzed us for a few minutes. We had done all the weekend chores ahead of time. Laundry was done. The tiny grocery list for the week was taken care of. The Cabbage got to go to the school dance that they were originally going to miss. It was Michael’s birthday weekend and the weather was really nice. It seemed a bit dumb to spend it sitting on the couch. So we decided to drive over to Lawrence and explore the shops on Mass. Street. I was a little concerned that this would be a bad idea because it was Sunflower Showdown weekend. Kansas named their rivalry game after a flower; in Oklahoma its’ called Bedlam. Maybe Oklahoma rivalries are more rowdy. I mean, just two weekends ago Oklahoma State fans threw our goal post into Theta Pond in celebration of our win over OU.

There were a few day drinkers out stumbling from bar to bar, but the game started later in the evening, so the crowds were not bad. Truth be told, those day drinkers were normal day drinkers for a Saturday in a college town. We had an easy time of strolling up and down the street and browsing around in some of the shops. We found a really great thrift clothing store where the Cabbage found a clunky pair of Mary Janes in their size. I nabbed a wool dress coat that still had the original tags and a comfy sweater. Then we wandered around a used bookstore. At one point, I was standing in front of a display of old books. My back was turned to the cashier and I could hear her talking to someone on the phone. This is what I overheard: “Look, you’ve made it this far. You only have two more months. You’re doing really great. I’m so proud of you.”

I stood there for few minutes, pretending to be interested in the books in front of me and I thought what a great friend this person is. She sounded honest and genuine in her support for the person on the other end of the line. Most of us have that person who will call with similar words of support, but it is nice to know and witness that sort of support in the wild. I bought a ridiculous old paperback, purely for the cover and when I walked up to the cashier, I saw a skinny mangy looking black cat pacing along the counter. A small child was trying to pet it and the cat eyed him with suspicion before moving securely out of reach. I paid for my book and met Michael and the Cabbage outside. Later on Michael asked me if I had seen that woman in the bookstore talking to the cat. I looked at him and relayed the words I had heard. Then I said “She wasn’t on the phone?” He laughed and replied “No. She was saying all of that to the cat.”

What a lucky cat.

We left Lawrence in time to go over to Jenn and Wade’s for the tail end of their Friendsgiving, an even that we thought we were going to miss. We walked in and were immediately embraced with strong hugs and plates of food. All the others had eaten already and the crowd of guests with small children were packing to leave. Wade sat with us at the table while the three of us ate, giving us his full attention as we discussed everything from our day to where’s the best chicken in the Kansas City. Then we sat around the backyard fire pit with people Michael and I do not know well, but conversation was easy and we laughed so hard at ridiculous things. Eventually we got the nudge from the Cabbage that they were ready for home and bed. We packed up and received more hugs as we departed. I was so grateful that we made it and that they made space for us, that they were genuinely happy to have us there. Making new friends after a certain age and after moving to a new city where you don’t know anyone is not easy. But, I’ve managed to do it. I’ve always been good at collecting interesting people, but I am surprised that I have managed to collect people who think I’m the interesting one.

I would say get yourself someone who speaks to a mangy skinny cat the way that cashier in the shop does, but I suspect you are like me and have number of those someones in your life already.

We are lucky cats.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I often forget that this is the month for gratitude because I practice gratitude every day and share it here every week. So, November is just a month that happens to contain a holiday. There are those who use November for more than a gratitude month. November is also National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo for short. I have a handful of friends who have honored the month with working diligently on a novel and I have on occasion officially thrown my hat into the writing ring, signing up for NaNoWriMo. The challenge of committing to writing daily on a thing you might send off to be published as a book is enticing and intimidating. I have always failed miserably to finish anything.

This is true for any month.

Before you get excited for me, let me say that this year is not any different from any other time. I did not officially sign up for NaNoWriMo. I did not quietly make any commitments to write daily for NaNoWriMo, but I have been writing. I have been writing on a project that I know I have time to write because I don’t have plans to share it in public. At least not now. I am waiting for an appropriate time. The thing I started writing is based on an idea for a book title that just randomly floated into my brain. Since then, I have been fleshing out a story to fit under that title. This is, I just realized, the same way I write my little fortune cookie stories. I use the title of the page, in this case a fortune, to inspire the story. I never really finish a story for this, but I don’t think that I am incapable of it. I always run out of room to write before I am given the chance to finish. Turns out the Fortune Cookie Diary has not just been a practice in creativity but a lesson on getting a writing project off the ground.

This project may end up like all the others and I would not be disappointed with myself if it did. There’s plenty of UFOs on my computer and about half of those make me feel a number of negative feelings most of which revolve around my lack of discipline (I blame Chris). I can finish this or not finish this current project without any of those feelings because in the process of writing, I have let go of some stuff that has not been serving me. Each written memory gives me greater insight and understanding and unlike many of those other projects, I have yet to reach a wall that I can’t seem to write my way around. Maybe this one will keep going because it feels really good to free some of these thoughts that I have been holding onto. They are thoughts that do not serve me well and the foundation for many of my feelings of inadequacy. Those thoughts are where the not enoughs come from. After each writing session I have felt stronger in not just saying, but believing that I am enough.

So for the month that celebrates writing and gratitude, I am thankful for my writing practice.

We are traveling to Iowa next week for a friendsgiving in Heather’s new house. I’ve never been to Des Moines and from what I’ve been told, it’s really great or really boring. It depends on who you’re talking to. I’m leaning into Des Moines being really great because we missed friendsgiving with Heather last year. Up until then, our Thanksgiving gathering were beginning to feel traditional. I am a creature devoted to routine and habits. So to have our gatherings back feel comforting. I don’t know what next week will look like for this space. If I end up not posting anything, may your holiday be filled with light and comfort.

Peace.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

If you have not ever watched the series Big Love, I’m sorry. There are major spoilers ahead. In the series finale, Bill the head of the family is no longer with us. What is left behind is his three wives and nine children. They are still living in their three separated houses. Those houses are right next to each other, looking like all the other houses in the neighborhood from the front, but with one giant communal backyard in the back. This is how they lived through out the series. The thing that is different in the finale is not just the missing father head, but how these women have come together to make this family work in a way where everyone feels supported in their choices for their own lives. In fact, the family unit works better and more harmoniously now than when Bill was around.

I was riveted with the concept of this show. Chris and I watched every episode, having long discussions about the events from each episode, breaking down scenes. The show ran for five seasons and usually when one gets invested in a TV show, there is a little bit of sadness to see it end. I wasn’t not sad to see the end of Big Love, but that final episode was the perfect way to wrap up a show of complicated relationships. The final scene of the family all coming together, making time out of the lives they have built for themselves (and thriving in) to sit together for dinner has never left my brain.

I want a house with a crowded table
And a place by the fire for everyone
Let us take on the world while we're young and able
And bring us back together when the day is done

- Crowded Table, The Highwomen

On Monday evening, Robin and Summer came to my house where I fixed a pot of stewed tomatoes and black-eyed peas with collard greens and cornbread. It was a meal of comfort and as we sat slurping spoonfuls of black-eyed peas, I once again thought of that final episode of Big Love. I even talked about it with Robin and Summer. I said “This is what I want.” Tuesday evening was my last evening to spend with them. This time they made me dinner and we sat at the table in the Airbnb, enjoying our meal together. There is comfort in sitting around a table at the end of a crazy work day and breaking bread with your chosen family.

I have said this before. I have talked of my dream community of friends with one giant backyard and evening meals shared at a great big table. I imagine the table filled with chatter and busy with passing around serving dishes of steaming nourishment. Laugher is always involved. Demanded even. The care of the community is not the sole responsibility of one, but the responsibility of all of us. Community is not defined by proximity. Amani sent out a call for stories of goodness to pull her out of a dark funk early in the week. It did not take long for her little post to fill up with comments of goodness. Not surprising. She has a collected a large number of good humans. Many of us have a similar collection and this is our community.

Sometimes, I scroll through the list of people Facebook thinks I know and who I should send out friend requests to. I am always so intrigued by the connections between the people in this list and my current Facebook friends. I am even more intrigued by the mutual friend situations that happen in Facebook, how these friendships overlap. My community of good humans overlaps with Amani’s community because my community includes her and when I share my own stories of goodness those people in Amani’s community see’s it too. In caring for one single person in my chosen community, I end up caring and supporting an entirely different community than my own.

I still want my imaginary community of houses with a shared backyard, with a fire pit we gather around in the evenings. I want a great big table where we sit together for our evening meals. I want all of that, but I don’t need it. I don’t need it because I already have a beautiful community and we all may be spread out across the country, but we still care and support one another.

Because this is how communities work.