A DOOR TO ANOTHER DIMENSION

The kitchen in my house has been in need of a major upgrade and remodel since the day I moved in, but I have ignored this need. Major remodeling projects stress me out. I mean, like irrationally stressed out. Hair falling out in clumps and mysterious itchy rashes kind of stressed out. The bathroom remodel wasn’t too bad because we overpaid someone else to do it with the guaranteed time frame. The kitchen is another story. First of all, a kitchen remodel is not cheap and if you are paying someone to do it, it is really not cheap. Secondly, I feel that the chaos of a kitchen remodel would be my undoing.

Sometime recently, a mysterious puddle of water would just show up next to the fridge. Michael did some research and read something about a drain in the freezer. So while I spent last Thursday cleaning the house, Michael spent the day taking our refrigerator apart. The results of his labor is that we ended up refrigerator shopping on Sunday. I don’t want to tell you which refrigerator we ended up purchasing, mostly because I am embarrassed. It’s not that it is crazy expensive or anything like that. We stayed within our budget and it will be wonderful. There’s a TV screen in the door. That’s the embarrassing part, but Michael really pushed for it because of my obsessive menu planning. The problem is that the refrigerator is wider than the old one. Actually, we were very very limited in choices based on width and we bought this fridge knowing that it was not going to fit. A cabinet will have to be removed. I had to resist the urge to lay down on the floor of the appliance section of the store we were in during this whole discussion on refrigerator width.

Michael got a snow day on Monday and he spent the day assembling a set of shelves for the basement so that I could organize rarely used kitchen items. Then he removed the cabinet to make space for the new refrigerator that is arriving on Saturday. He sent me a picture of the space and I sighed with relief. It really isn’t so bad back there. Michael asked me what I had expected to see behind the cabinet and I sent him a gif of the fridge scene from Ghostbusters. I truly expected a doorway to Hell, because that’s what I do. Remember when I was convinced that the bathroom floor was going to collapse into the basement when Michael replaced the toilet? Or that time Michael replaced an outlet in the living room and I was convinced that if he removed the old one there would be nothing there at all? I’m not sure I have the right constitution for home ownership, but I was so encouraged by the shape of the wall behind the removed cabinet that we have decided to remodel one side of the kitchen. The south wall of the kitchen will require a complete demo and some electrical work, but the north wall, the one with the fridge and stove requires nothing more than a coat of paint and some new cabinets. We’re ignoring the floor for now.

All of this is dependent on if and when IKEA gets the cabinets in that I want, but I feel pretty confident that we could get the walls painted and new cabinets up in two weekends, without too much disruption. No one is more surprised than I am about how calmly I’m walking into this remodeling project. Hair is still intact and I haven’t even scratched and clawed at my skin once. I’m even excited about the whole thing.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Heart

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We bought a new blender because I broke my old blender. I mean I buhroke it. About a year ago, I went on a cleaning bender and collected all of the kitchen appliances that only get used when every other planet aligns and carted them to the basement. My arms were full of appliances, including the blender, and I took one step down the basement stairs when the blender pitcher toppled off the base. It bounced all the way down the stairs and shattered on the basement floor. At the time, I just sort of shrugged it off. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I had used that thing. I don’t like margaritas.

Just before the dumpster fire that is the current state of affairs, Micheal and I started intermittent fasting during the week and we just stuck with it. It means skipping breakfast and having a snack around 10:30 am. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, my snack has been some cottage cheese with some fruit. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s avocado toast with a boiled egg. (Shut up. I know I am lulu crazy pants.) Then, I started to get a craving for a smoothie. Not just any smoothie. I wanted a really green smoothie. One with kale and spinach and maybe a bit of celery, a squeeze of lemon. The more I thought about it, the greater my craving became until I finally decided that we needed to buy a new blender. So I told Michael that I was going to buy a new blender and he said “Wait a minute. Don’t you think I have a say in this?” Then he went down a rabbit hole of research into blenders. By the time I woke up the following morning, he had ordered one and as soon as the delivery person set it down on our front porch, I grabbed it up. I pulled it from the box and then immediately sliced open my finger on the blade while I was washing it. Appliances work better after they have been given a blood sacrifice.

That was two weeks ago. Now, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I put half of a banana, a stalk of celery, a handful of kale, a handful of spinach, a dollop of plain yogurt, and some ice into one of the individual blender cups that came with our blender. I squeeze half of a lemon into it and then blend it all up. Michael thinks it tastes like a pasture, but I love it. I drink it up, relishing the gritty kale bits, while watching a tutorial on electron microscopy or Numpy coding crap. Then I go do about an hour and a half of yoga before lunch. I just realized as I re-read those last two sentences that it sounds like I have fully gone granola hippy chic. Don’t worry. I’m still shaving my armpits and using deodorant that is not made of crystals, but I am one pound away from just barely being in the ‘healthy weight’ section of the BMI chart.

And I know that all of this sounds like a really lame thing for a gratitude post, but this week has not been easy. The dumpster fire has gotten worse. People are not wearing masks and social distancing. The lack of effort makes me think the worst of them, that they are either so selfish or too ignorant to separate science from politics. I had a phone call with my mother that had us both crying and neither one of us handle tears in an effective manner. I have been short and snappish with others. I have been disappointed with myself for not handling things better or doing more or walking more steps or just more everything. Many times a day have been a practice in containing the rage that threatens to boil up and out of this body and exploding over the smallest incident like the inability to put recyclables in the recycle bin (the kitchen counter is not the recycle bin). I know we are all feeling the strain and stress and frustration. Our lives are different and change is hard, but some of the most rewarding transformations come from the hardest changes.

The other evening, I held a firefly tightly in my fist. I watched its tail light blinking through the cracks between my fingers. When I finally opened my fist, the firefly crawled out to the tip of my index finger. It sat there, flashing yellow-green light, for two or three breaths and then it floated up and away. That is how I am approaching the feelings of this week. I’m going to take a moment to squeeze them in my fist and then I am going to gently release them. I am going to find gratitude in green pasture smoothies that bring me joy. I’ve never been a part of the ‘healthy weight’ section of anything. So I’m going to take a moment to celebrate that.

I am going to take today to see gratitude in tiny victories.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

8/52 Buddha Board Project Fading octopus

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Prints have been ordered for my April showing and the large prints finally arrived this week. I was the most worried about these because I have ordred large prints before from some place different and they did not turn out well. The photo paper was the desired size, but the actual photo printed onto that paper was smaller. So when I placed my order for six 16x20 prints (costing me almost $100), I set the computer down and headed to the bathroom to throw up. I’ve been waking up in night sweats and mumbling ‘disaster!’ with a jolt of panic because I have had yet another nightmare about picture sizes. When they finally showed up, I hesitated in opening them, but they are good. Actually…they are really good. I am fascinated by the one of a Japanese beetle. The size of the image makes it possible to see the battle scars and scratches on his beetle armor. I am happy with these prints.

Of course, now that this worry has been removed from my plate, others have taken its place. Wednesday night, as I drove to teach my yoga class, I started to feel overwhelmed by all of the things. I have spent every spare moment this week taking online courses for CPR training and I will spend four hours on Saturday in more CPR training, which feels like a lot of CPR training. My class that I’m teaching at the Y is struggling with attendance and I have started toying with the idea of finding an alternative teaching venue. We have been going through the process of refinancing the house and it is taking months. I have called twice, been sent to voicemail and emailed twice about what is going on and I have heard nothing back. I made Michael cancel spa-birthday because our debt is out of control and a spa day is an inappropriate use of funds right now. I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to hang pictures on a brick wall or figured out when I am supposed to get into the building to hang pictures. I need an HDMI cable and a way to hook up my laptop or even my iPad to a projector. I need to start putting together my lesson plan for my photography workshop.

Shut up! I know the workshop is not until June!

Michael has a comedy showcase Sunday night. March has Michael headed to San Fransisco for a conference and then he comes back to spring break. We need to pick up a chicken coop that JP has so generously gifted us. I need to figure out something really nice to give or do for him and his partner. I am behind on keeping up with people (Terry, how are you doing? You doing okay?). I think I’m volunteering for the AIDS Walk Open in a few weeks. At least, it is on the calendar. All of these things need to happen on top of normal day to day chores. I still don’t know who I’m voting for in the primaries AND I just got an email with a DIY video on how to tighten up your turkey neck that I have to watch. I also need to schedule my yearly exam, a haircut for Josephine, and an eye exam. When I think about all of it at the same time, my chest tightens and I struggle to draw a deep breath. I have been focusing on making mental lists and categories each morning during meditation to keep myself from hyperventilating. I have been mentally filing stuff into two major categories: things that I can do and things I have no control over.

Quite a bit of all of those worries have easily been placed into the things I have no control over category.

Thank goodness I got a firm handle on my meditation practice, particularly at a time when I have decided to fill my calendar with a whole bunch of things. The things I can do category is organized by timeline and what needs to happen first. I imaging these things in a manilla file folder, placed in order, and on the outside I’ve written with a fat Sharpie “SLOW YOUR ROLL”. I have assignments but those assignments are not due tomorrow. I am not, nor have I ever been, a procrastinator. I invested in a calendar so that I could keep myself organized and on task. All of the things that need to be accomplished and that I have control over will get done in the time it needs to be.

Slow your roll. And take a deep cleansing breath.

I’ve got this.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Nothing except

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Thursday evening, I attended a yoga mala to celebrate the upcoming Winter Solstice. I signed up for it ages ago and kind of forgot about it. Then I remembered that I had decided to do this and I regretted putting my name on the sign up sheet. Everything that I could get into the mail has been sent. All the presents have been wrapped. Josephine’s been to the groomer’s. The house is as clean as I can get it right now what with all the snow and Christmas clutter. Despite all of that, I still had a lot to do before we headed out to Mom’s for the weekend. Did I really have an hour and half to spare for 108 sun salutations? Did I really have the energy to spare for 108 sun salutations?

The table in our break room is covered with treats. There are cookies and spicy Chex mix and some sort of homemade chocolate/peanut cup that must be laced with crack because I cannot stop eating them. I don’t understand how there are any still left. They have to be multiplying in the night. I am not a snacker or much of a stress eater, but on any given day this week you could find me shoving a handful of Chex mix into my mouth or two chocolate/peanut cups. Conversations that need to happen are weighing heavy on my mind. I am super busy at work (Do you read the New York Times ?!? Science doesn’t stop for the Holidays). We have a new dish soap that smells like Chris on the day he died and I am filled with anxiety that I will not come close to meeting the expectations some might have of me. Wednesday night, I dreamed that I stepped on the scale and was delighted to see that I had lost weight. Then the number on the scale started dropping. My delight turned to panic as I realized that I was disappearing.

So the real question I should have been asking myself was how could I not spare the time for 108 sun salutations? It is the time of year for self-care gurus to shout the loudest because they know how hard the Holiday season can be on a human. Social engagements, bright lights, loud noises, the struggle to meet expectations. All of these things wreck havoc on our mental and physical well being. Spending an hour and a half on my mat, in a place where I feel the most confident, secure and comforted, is the very least I can do for myself. But this class was not an easy lay on the floor yoga class. This was a physically and mentally challenging class. I mean a sun salutation is the original burpee. A hundred and eight of them with some warrior poses thrown in here and there and you will be left a sweaty mess with noodle arms. The mental aspect was just as rough. We started the class in meditation where Kelly asked us to focus on the 2009 self. “What piece of advice or warning would you give the 2009 you?”

Ha! Seriously? Buckle up baby.

Then we got to the very last round and suddenly Kelly was yelling at us to stay strong. “You are strong. Don’t ever believe that you are not strong.” And there I was pushing myself to stay in proper form as I lowered down through chaturanga, sweaty and crying and doing this. It is tattooed on my fucking wrist. I am strong. All that stuff up there. The hard conversations, the dish soap, not meeting expectations. They are nothing. I’ve had harder conversations. That dish soap can go in the garbage. I don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations except for the ones I set for myself. I am not responsible for anyone else’s happiness but my own. I am doing my best and right now my best is good enough for me. There is so much gratitude in that knowledge.

Don’t ever believe that you are not strong.

I am sending out a wish for peace and joy to all of you this Holiday Season.

I HARDLY EVER DREAM OF ZOMBIES

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high.

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Early last night, not long after I'd gone to bed and drifted off to sleep, I had the worst stress dream I've ever had. OK. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but I do have welt lines on the insides of my cheeks this morning from chewing my face from the inside out. Michael and I were at the airport trying to get our boarding passes. We went up to the desk clerk and he put in all our information, but when he went to print the passes, his printer started eating the paper and completely jammed up. The clerk said not to worry, that he'd send the information over to the next clerk who could print it out for us. At this moment, Michael realized that he didn't have a coat and that he really needed a coat. So he left me in line to deal with boarding passes to go find himself a coat. I'm standing at the counter for some time before I finally see the second clerk print our tickets and then stick them in a paper bag. I stepped forward to get our passes, but thats when the supervisor stepped up and shouted at me "What do you think you're doing?" "You have to go back and wait in line." I told him that I had been waiting in line and that my boarding passes were ready. I explained about the printer malfunction and passing the tickets to the next clerk, but he just kept yelling at me and he made me so angry. Finally I just reached up and grabbed my paper bag containing our passes. I looked at the ticket supervisor and said "I will be filing a very large complaint about you and I will make sure that you are fired from this job."

I turned and walked away from the counter, pulled our passes from the bag and noticed that our flight would be leaving in ten minutes and we still had to go through security. Also, I had no idea where Michael was. I started running down the moving sidewalk that would take us to our boarding gate. I was about half way down the corridor when I saw Michael running on the moving sidewalk that was going in the opposite direction. I yelled his name, but he didn't hear me. I started running backwards on my moving sidewalk (like going up the down escalator, but way harder). I reached the end and there stood Michael wearing the most ridiculous coat I had ever seen. He replied before I could say anything "it's the only thing they had that would fit me." The coat was huge, gray and furry. To top it all off there was a giant lion skin running down the back of it with the front paws draped over the shoulders and the head of the lion acting as the hood of the coat. Now, let me just say, before there's outrage over me dreaming about Michael wearing a lion skin, the lion was not a real lion. It was a knitted lion. I looked at him and said that we had to hurry, but then I couldn't stop laughing. Every time I looked at him in that ridiculous coat, I'd just crack up. We're running through the airport, laughing and trying to find gate B. For the LOVE OF GOD WHERE IS GATE B!!!!????? That's the last thing I remember before I woke up. 

I reached over for my clock to see that it wasn't even midnight. I rolled back over, trying to go back to sleep, but I couldn't get my brain to stop racing. I thought about how Mom and I had to run through Heathrow to catch our flight to Chicago. We were going through security when we heard them announce final boarding for our flight. I was that person hopping into her shoes while grabbing all of my things and sprinting to our gate. Mom followed behind, shoeless, yelling at me to "Go Cindy! Go! I'll catch up!" I came to a halt at our gate where people were lined up to board the flight and no one was on the plane yet. Final boarding in London does not mean what I think it should mean. That dream left me feeling like I'd just raced through Heathrow again and I couldn't stop thinking about it or Michael's coat. I finally got up and crawled into his bed. He wasn't asleep yet, but his lights were off and I startled him. He pulled me in close so that my ear was pressed to his chest. I have had dreams that have woken me with gasps of terror. I have woken from a dream nearly drowning in my own tears. I very nearly never run to his bed when this happens. Instead, it's the dream that stresses me out the most. It's the one where I end up running the wrong way on a moving sidewalk (that shit is HARD) that sends me to his bed. 

I just had to tell him about the dream. I had to tell him about the rude awful ticket supervisor. I had to tell him how frantic I was. I really needed to tell him about that coat. When I finished telling him all of those things, I laid there a few minutes more until both of our heart beats slowed down to normal and I was finally ready to give sleep another try. I ended up back in my bed where I slept without dreaming for the rest of the night.