LOVE THURSDAY

I've been dreaming of a getaway. Every email that's come in promoting a chance to win a trip to Peru, Paris, Thailand, Any where, I have diligently entered. Last Saturday, we took the Cabbage up to a farm just north of Kansas City. Kansas City is strange. It is a city, urban sprawl and everything, but just barely another five miles north, south, east or west of it is all farmland, rolling hills and forests. It's like you hit an urban sprawl wall and just on the other side is corn fields. So, any way, Saturday, 45 minutes north of us, we were frolicking on a farm, riding ponies, picking apples, and feeding chickens. Then we were loading up a wheelbarrow with pumpkins. Or I loaded up a wheelbarrow with pumpkins while Michael looked at me with raised eyebrows and the ticker tape of "really?" running across his forehead. What? The Cabbage picked out the tiniest pumpkin. I can't carve that! 

While we were in the apple orchard, the Cabbage and Michael ran off hunting apples as I strolled slowly along the path with my camera. It was nice in the orchard. Warm. The trees blocked the cold wind. The sun was so bright it made everything look techno color. I inhaled deeply catching the smell of farm animals and rotting apples, which doesn't sound pleasant, but really is kind of nice and I thought "wouldn't it be great to just spend a weekend strolling?". I got home that evening and looked into some bed and breakfast places in that area. All of them are booked right through Thanksgiving. 

It should come as no surprise that this urge to pack up some bags and a good book and running off to some remote area should hit me just as construction begins on the bathroom renovation. I greeted the guy in charge of construction Wednesday morning (he was an hour late) and left him with a key. I headed to work with a knotted stomach. Talaura and Michael both did their fair share of talking me down and assuring me that all would be fine. All will be fine. It's going to be just fine. But honestly, I've had this travel fever for some time now, way before we signed up to have the bathroom remodeled. 

There's something about packing and preparing to go to someplace new. That anticipation of what's to come, the excitement of staying in a new place. Jumping on a hotel bed. Eating vacation food. All of those things are lovely things that I am craving. So for today's Love Thursday we are going to play a game. We're going to pack a suitcase for an adventure. You can go anywhere. I'm going to pack jeans, comfortable walking shoes, layering t-shirts, a comfortable sweater, maybe a nice skirt and sandals and a rain jacket. My passport is tucked into the side pocket of my camera bag. I've downloaded a copy of Rick Steve's guide to Italy and I've brought along a couple of empty SD cards. 

What's in your suitcase?

LOVE THURSDAY

Letters from Steph

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I came across a letter Dad had written to Mom way back when. In their very early years (like year one or something) of their marriage, Dad was in basic training for the Air Force. He was just about to be stationed in Michigan when my brother was born. Mom went home to her family to have Randy in the hospital in Mississippi. This letter was written two months after Randy was born. I was shocked when I found it. "Dad wrote you letters?!?!" I asked Mom. She sort of shrugged and waived it off with a "your Dad used to write me letters" like whatever. I didn't even know my Dad could write whole sentences, let alone a three page letter. I mean, I could see him sending a card signed "I love you", but not actual letters. He told Mom how much he loved her and how important Randy was to him. He talked about all the fun stuff they'd get to do in Michigan, all the camping and fishing. He was very excited about possibly visiting Canada. It was a letter of love and hopes and dreams for their future together. And it was sweet. 

It was a side of Dad I'd never seen. I love catching that glimpse of him at that age. I love the excitement I could hear in his words. I love most of all that he took the time to write it all down. Of course this was back in the day before email and texting. Long distance phone calls were expensive. Letters where how people communicated. I remember when texting became a thing and how I would never be into that. Now I'd rather send a text than talk on the phone. I'm supposed to call the home improvement company this week about how they said it would be 8-10 weeks and it's been 11 weeks and I'd like to have my bathroom done by Thanksgiving and I am dreading using my voice and talking on the phone to whine about this. I dread about 80% any verbal conversation. Sometimes I think I'd be better off walking around carrying a piece of chalk with a small chalkboard tied around my neck. Text is simple, to the point and concise (if in the proper hands). I don't have to worry that I'm calling someone at an inopportune time and bothering them. 

There is a downside of course. It's taken away the art of telling our daily stories. Let's be honest. If someone sends you a text asking "how are you doing?", you're probably not going to send them a lengthy reply about how things are really going. You're most likely to send back a simple "fine" or "good". You're not going to go on about how you and the family had colds last week, but all seem to be getting better now. The text will end there with the originator replying with something like "that's cool". And the day to day story of our lives become edited to "fine" and "OK". Writing an actual letter takes time particularly when using fingers more used to keyboards than pens. Yet, there is a sweet calmness in writing a letter. There's something about taking the time to form those letters and words. There is mindfulness in the composition. There is a little excitement in putting a stamp on the envelope and sending that letter off. I'm still naive enough to be thrilled by the romance of the postal service. Admit it. Those times you peak in the mailbox and find something other than junk or a bill, you get a little excited. There's joy and love and hope waiting inside the mailbox. 

Maybe the best way we could spend a Love Thursday today is to sit down and write a letter. And then send it. 

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

Rainbow without the rain

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"Are hummingbirds real?" the Cabbage asked me. I looked at her like she was crazy and replied "Of course they're real!". Then it dawned on me that she's never seen a real live hummingbird. Also, recently we had been reading Uni the Unicorn and she asked if unicorns were real. Not wanting to say no to the idea of unicorns not being a thing, I told her about narwhals and how I thought that unicorns evolved into narwhals. Then I had to explain evolving to a four year old and things got complicated because of my science brain. But any way....the kid has only seen hummingbirds on TV which is something we're going to have to fix next summer.

I remember every summer putting out a hummingbird feeder at the old house. You'd see one occasionally, but not often. Mom always kept at least two feeders in the camp trailer and every Colorado trip we'd put out those feeders along with some we'd make from soda cans for the swarms of hummingbirds. No kidding. I mean swarms. I can remember carefully walking out of the camper carrying two very full hummingbird feeders and before the door would close behind me, I'd have hummingbirds at the feeders that I was still holding. They were eating out of my hand. The last camper Mom and Dad owned, the dinette was situated at the back end of the camper with a window that took up most of the end wall. There was ladder there that lead to the camper roof and I'd always hang a feeder on one of the rungs. We'd sit at the table for hours watching the hummingbirds fight over the feeder.

They really are remarkable birds and there are over 300 different kinds of hummingbirds. They are only found in the Western Hemisphere ranging from southeastern Alaska to southern Chile. I have always been fascinated by how they never seem to stop moving, flapping their tiny delicate wings about 80 times a second. In fact, I vaguely remember someone telling me that hummingbirds are always in constant motion. Probably Dad told me that. Aren't we all kind of like hummingbirds zipping from this to that? There's always someplace to go to or something needing to be done. 

One day while watching the hummingbirds chase each other away from the feeder I noticed a small green hummingbird resting on one of the ladder rungs. He was just calmly sitting there very still. When one hummingbird would chase away another bird from the feeder, thus freeing up the feeder, this little guy would zip up to the feeder, take a few sips and then come back to his perch. It was the first time I'd ever seen a hummingbird perch. Even a hummingbird needs to sit still at times. Even a hummingbird recognizes the benefits in waiting patiently. 

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

That crumbling photo album I pulled from the attic was actually my Mom's high school scrapbook. The book itself was unsalvageable, but we were able to pull all of the photos free. the photos were mostly pictures of Mom, Dad, Uncle Russel and their cousin Helen. It showed them goofing around the giant monuments of the Civil War cemetery in Vicksburg. All the boys were wearing those white t-shirts with jeans, so James Dean cool. The girls wearing their pleated skirts and flats. Mom said they would all load up in a car and drive off to all kinds of places and spend the day. These pictures where the proof of those carefree days.

I snagged that picture of my mom and tucked it into the few bits of odds and ends I took home with me. It has become my favorite picture of Mom. I look at it and almost don't even recognize her, though I've seen pictures of her during this time period before. For some reason, the woman in this particular photo is foreign to me. She's wearing a smile I've never seen. She's flirty and has a sense of humor. It is a picture taken before marriage, Michigan, kids and loss. It is a picture that was taken before all of life's disappointments and bitterness has had a chance to settle on her. 

I look at this picture and I think "Mom was happy" and I wonder when exactly did it all change because I don't really remember a time she was just happy, unconditionally happy. There has always been a "but" or "except for" tagged to the end of joyful moments. Looking at this picture makes me wonder, even want to believe that wasn't always the case. And I want to know that girl. I want to believe she still exists. She doesn't tell many stories about the good times. This picture is a relief to me. It proves that there were good times. I love that there was a time when she could smile with ease and be flirty and funny.

LOVE THURSDAY

Whatever

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Saturday evening, Michael and I rode the scooters out near the river to have dinner. It was the longest scooter ride I'd been on in weeks. The last time I parked the scooter, I was sick and I did a terrible job of parking. For the last two weeks, every time Michael rode his scooter he'd have to maneuver his way around my scooter. He teased me about it daily only because I usually do such a good job of parking my scooter. The one time I don't is the time it ends up sitting for weeks. But then Michael's scooter started leaking and he had to put it into the shop for a week, so getting in and out of the garage wasn't an issue. But Saturday, Michael got his scooter back, I wasn't blowing my nose every five minutes, and the weather was nice. Basically, stars aligned. 

We are creeping into that season where scooter rides are less and less frequent. This week we've had rain or enough of a threat for rain that the scooter has been a no go. This is the hardest part of the end of summer, saying farewell to the daily scooter rides. It's what makes the simplest scooter ride so important. Our ride that evening was not really an extended ride. It was not an all day affair. It was just a simple ride to dinner. It took us into the heart of downtown, past the Power and Light District. We traveled through the City Market area and onto a bridge that took us over train tracks and into the River Park. Our ride put us close to Bond Bridge right around sunset. It was the magic hour of the day. The streets were quiet. The weather was cool with that slightly crisp hint of the coming Fall. Yet the sun was still just barely up. It was at that spot on the horizon where you can see the physical rotation of the Earth happening in real time. 

It was dark as we made our way home, but just barely and the street lights along Troost are bright enough. We watched a girl walking along the sidewalk with eight or nine puppies following her. No leash. In fact the girl didn't even seem all that concerned about the puppies, barely glancing back as one of them started wander off. As we stopped at a stop light Michael turned to me and said "DID YOU SEE ALL THOSE PUPPIES FOLLOWING THAT GIRL!". I suggested we steal one of them and then I remembered the "no pets" sign on the inside of my scooter seat. We passed the car lot that always reminds me of Christmas tree lot with the way the lights are strung up all around (I call it the Christmas tree car lot) and made our way home. 

It was the kind of ride that was peaceful and relaxing and just what I needed. It was the kind of ride that I'll think about when snow falls and I'm shoveling the driveway. A scooter ride to pull up from memory on those mornings I'm running out to start the cars when the temperatures are below freezing. I'm like a squirrel except instead of nuts, I'm gathering memories to sustain me through the winter months.

Happy memory catching. And Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

This makes me happy

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Labor Day weekend is also the weekend for Santa-Cali-Gon Days in Independence, what I can only describe as a smaller outdoor version of a state fair. It was started in celebration of the Santa Fe, California, and Oregon trails. Independence is the starting point for all three. Actually, Independence is an interesting (in a bizarre way) town. It is the home of Temple Lot, the first Mormon temple and many of the people walking around town look like they are in training for carnival life. There were a few "craft" tents, but mostly the vendors where selling As Seen on TV type of wares or siding and windows. There were corn dogs and giant turkey legs and funnel cakes. And there was a section of carnival rides and games. 

I'm a sucker for carnival rides. I know a number of people who would turn their noses up at the idea of riding a ride that was setup in just a few hours. The ride spends it's lifetime being disassembled, carted off to the next town, and reassembled rinsing and repeating over and over throughout the summer. Doesn't really sound like the safest thing to ride. I think that's what puts the "thrill" in thrill ride, that rattly vibration of nuts and bolts straining to hold everything together as you're flung this way and that across the seat of the Sizzler. Exhilarating. The Collinsville Tri-County Fair never really had a large selection of carnival rides. There were usually a couple of kiddie rides, a thing that would spin (like the Sizzler---why was it named after a steak house?) and one big "scary" ride. It was usually the Zipper and I'd ride it over and over. I think I rode it seventeen times in a row once. I may have been going for some kind of record. I don't know, but I do love carnival rides. (Hey Todd, remember that time we rode the SkyScraper at the OKC State Fair? Oh..man..good times.)

The best, most wonderful carnival ride by far has got to be the giant slide. It may not be as thrilling as something like the Zipper. There's no crazy twirling basket. There are no moving parts at all. It's just you and a burlap sack on a slide, but it is my favorite thing. If I thought I could have one put up permanently in my backyard without getting complaints from neighbors I totally would. Bell's Amusement park had the best one. I was kind of intimidated by that one actually because it was so big, but once I plopped down on my burlap sack of a sled those butterflies of fear quickly fluttered away. The only thing left behind would be the absolute joy of racing down those fiberglass hills, that tickle in my belly as I felt my body lift up as I flew over a hill. Of course you always risked a section of skin to some rug burn as you'd skid to a halt at the bottom, but it was completely worth it.

I may have to admit that I might be a little too old for those fling you around type of rides. It's been so long since I've been on one. I was tempted to take a spin on the Tilt-a-Whirl, but Michael is not into carnival rides or more likely the possibility of getting sick from a carnival ride. Many of those thrill rides are just not as fun when you have to ride them alone. The giant slide is meant to be ridden alone and if I have to choose one ride, it's always going to be that one because of the type of joy it induces. It only takes a few seconds to make it down that slide, but in that brief moment everything is coated in rainbows and tastes like cotton candy. 

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

Jeff shot this giant rubber band over into my cubicle one day. I could have shot it back to him, but instead I've left it by my key board. In those down times when I'm reading something or listening to someone, I'll pick up that rubber band and twist it around. One time I set the rubber band down and saw familiar shape. I laid the rubber band down in the same shape on my sticky notes and drew in some eyes and a beak. It wasn't much, just a few dots here and there and that rubber band was turned into a turkey. 

It was a simple moment of creativity. Sort of like finding shapes in the clouds. Since that day I've made it a point to take a few minutes to throe down that rubber band and find a shape. I never force it. If the image doesn't come to me quickly, I set it aside for another time. It's like solving a puzzle. I like to think that solving this puzzle makes me better at solving bigger, more important puzzles. 

Happy Love Thursday

LOVE THURSDAY

"I love you more than you do" says the Cabbage. I know what she means, but I hear it grammatically and think "you're probably right about that". Instead I tell her "it's not possible" because I know she means that she loves me more than I love her, which is sweet.

The other day I took a new selfie to replace my facebook picture. I figured it was time to remove the one where I'm swallowing a giant blue pill. I took several images of myself. I pretended to pick my teeth in one shot. Another one had me doing my best evil Calvin impression. I went with the somewhat serious, more professional looking photo. Of course, once I posted it, I immediately received all of these nice comments about how pretty I am and blah blah blah. Really, all I kept looking at in that picture was my teeth. It's almost like I should have captioned that photo "My! What big teeth you have!". The better for tearing out your throat! Which is what I mentally do to people who have pissed me off. I'm looking at you Dude in the pickup truck that sped past me in a school zone and then cut me off. This Love Thursday entry is moving quickly over to the dark side. 

Any way, my eyes gravitated instantly to the things about me that I see as ugly, like my big nose and crater pores. I have brown spots on my cheekbones that look like dirt smudges (they are probably sinus or gluten related). Also, why is my forehead always so dang shiny?!? I use mattifying EVERYTHING on my face. And my teeth are seriously the size of Chiclets. I mean, I could replace all my teeth with miniature marshmallows and no one would even notice. That's just my face. Don't even get me started on what's going on from the neck down. Lumpy dumpy mess. 

"I love you more than you do."

OK, so I have big teeth. But guess what? I've never had to wear braces. Those straight (fairly) white teeth are mine and I haven't been to a dentist in twenty years (I know...I'm going soon...I promise). I know that smile holds power. Those eyes? Stunning. Hands down, my eyes are probably the best feature on my face. Sure, I may use a little mascara, but it's only because the tips of my eyelashes are blond. The mascara just helps you get the full effect of my long doll baby eyelashes. 

It's so easy to love others more than ourselves. We can easily see the beauty in others. In fact our eyes are usually trained to find the best features. Except when we're looking at ourselves. And yeah, I know the Cabbage doesn't love me because I look like a princess. She loves me because I sat on the floor and colored with her and sometimes I buy her junk from the $1 section at Target. But any way. Today, I'm going to love myself a little more. 

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

Monday evening, I sat down for meditation. You would think that it sounds perfectly reasonable for me to sit down for a meditation practice, that in fact this is a common every day occurrence. You would be wrong. My meditation practice never really recovered from my move to Kansas City. There have been times when I think I've gotten it back on track. I will have weeks of consistency to 20 minutes, but eventually that road block would show up. I'd get sick or go out of town. There would be one late night or one full day where the only effort I could make physically was to press a button on the remote control. So for me to even announce on Monday "hey, I'm going to sit down for meditation right now" is kind of a big deal. 

And let me tell you it was awful. I made it through ten rounds of alternate nostril breathing and twenty four rounds of mantra, but spent the rest of my time wiggling around on my meditation pillow, moving my legs this way and that, and peaking at the timer. Instead of focusing on the breath, I noticed every twinge and ache, every prickle of a limb falling to sleep. The fan was too loud. There were people outside talking. That one dog never stops barking. I felt it all. I heard it all. But somewhere in the middle of that there was a moment of peace and almost clarity. It may have only lasted for a brief minute, but it was there.

There's nothing like a bad meditation practice. It showed me how out of practice I have become and it is a reminder of imperfection. I did not assume for a minute that I would sit down after over a year of not meditating and find instant enlightenment. I knew it would be a struggle. Just as much as I knew the next night would also be tough. I'll tell you a not so secret. Part of the practice of sitting down for meditation is making the choice to set a time to actually sit down for meditation. 

We live in a world where we are constantly striving for perfection. We beat ourselves up over and over again for not being enough. Yet, I think we all know by now that's there is no such thing as perfection. It is enough that I set the intention for my practice. I am enough.

Don't forget that you are enough. Happy Love Thursday!

LOVE THURSDAY

I left Michael here last week. It just seemed like the most humane thing to do. He didn't really know Dad and we were supposed to have the Cabbage that weekend. It was too much. It was just easier to go on my own and only have to worry about myself. But schedules got shifted and weekends changed and Michael ended up spending the weekend on his own. We'll have the Cabbage this weekend. This worked out well for a couple of reasons. The last night of the last full week of Cabbage summer, I was doing my part of the nightly ritual. After a book and goodnight hugs, kisses, and animal kisses with Dad, I talk her through a final relaxation. I trick her to sleep with yoga. At the end I said that I needed to go to bed too so I could get up early. The Cabbage asked "Do you have to go to work tomorrow? When are you going to stay home so we can play?". Stab and twist kid. I felt a little guilty knowing that the next time we had her, I'd be out of town.

Michael's summer vacation if over and he's back to work this week. Really he's been part time back to work for two weeks now, but this week is full time with no kids. Next week is full time and with all of the kids, officially ending summer. Michael needed that weekend before to himself. He needed to be able to gather his thoughts and things and tools he's going to need to teach and teach well. So Michael got a weekend to himself and the next time we have the Cabbage for a weekend, I will be able to stay home and play. Michael did spend some of his weekend alone time cleaning out and organizing the food closet. Saturday evening he sent me a picture of the food closet after he'd done all the cleaning and I swooned. No, like really. It made me weak in the knees. Maybe a before picture would have explained things better. I mean, it's not like you couldn't open the door without fear of things falling out on you. It wasn't that bad. I should say that we should never buy tea again or we don't really need to buy tea again.

You see, some girls like their significant other to bring them diamonds or flowers. Some girls are into being romantically serenaded or have pages of poetry written in their honor. There are women who think there's nothing more attractive than seeing their partner holding a child, preferably their child. There are many ways to woo a woman. Apparently, well organized closets are my thing. You should see how I react inside a Container Store (pure joy). When he sent me that picture, I immediately replied "I love you". I may have said a few not safe for work things after that, but all you really need to know is the "I love you" part. Because that sums it up really. I believe I had a similar reaction when he cleaned the garage.  Michael has learned or is learning the way to my heart. 

LOVE THURSDAY

Chances are highly likely that I was part of a social experiment. Well, haven't we all been part of some social experiment or another? I think the first one was called High School. Any way, on Monday, OKCupid published the results of three different tests conducted on users. Yes. A very popular online dating site was performing social experiments in the name of love. Some people are really bothered by this. They feel like they were being duped and I get that. I probably would be feeling a little annoyed by their antics if I had taken the website more seriously. One of the tests they did was to "fix" or lie about compatibility percentages. For instance, statistics may show that you're 30% compatible with this one person, but in reality you were 90% compatible. Or the other way around. 

A good example of this would be Caesar. According to OKCupid, we were 90% compatible. Now don't get me wrong. Caesar is an amazing human being, definitely entertaining. But I couldn't see us together in a romantic way. First of all there would be no way I could have ever kept up with his energy level. Also....he told me something about his penis that made me think sex would have been a problem. When I was on the dating site, I knew those percentages where there. I just really never paid much attention to them. The only reason I know that it said I was 90% compatible to Caesar is because I was curious after I'd met him. I used OKCupid as that pal who likes to introduce you to their single friends. I never felt that the profiles or even a lot of the pictures were an accurate representation of the person and the only way to really find out who a person is was to meet them. In person. Like as in real life. Face to face. 

In fact, OKCupid did an experiment where they only showed peoples pictures and not their profiles and found that more people responded to the pictures. Meaning, no one cares to read your profile. I read profiles just to help gauge intelligence. I wanted to make sure the guy I was about to meet could write a sentence with out "lol" and "omg". This didn't stop me from meeting some of them for a drink though, like the guy who wrote in his profile "If you're looking for a guy to wine and dine you and take you on trips to Vegas, I am not that guy". I just wasn't surprised when he rolled his eyes when I ordered food or that I'd end up paying for my own dinner. I found that if I relied too much on the profile picture, I was completely lost at the first meeting. So many people use photos that do not represent how they look now. My favorite profile pics where ones where the guy was posing with a group of his buddies. Which one of you are asking me out?

I had lost interest in online dating and was about to close down my profile when Michael emailed me. He told me that of all the girls he'd contacted, we had the lowest compatibility percentage. He said it was something like 58%, which I don't think is all that low, but he's better at math and paid more attention to those things. I think he even struggled with the idea of reaching out to me because of that number. He says that he contacted me because he liked my spiritual beliefs and my "legs looked sexy" in my picture. I don't know if we are a product of OKCupid's social experiments or we just got lucky. Or we were just brave enough to give each other a chance.

I like to think we are brave. Happy Love Thursday. 

LOVE THRUSDAY

When I was little, I read all of the Little House books. My favorite one for some reason was On the Banks of Plum Creek. I was fascinated by the sod house or dugout that they lived in and would spend hours in our pasture "building" my own sod house. I'd wear my bonnet and one of my prairie style dresses and I'd set up a home in the pasture. What? I'm from Oklahoma. Of course I owned a bonnet and a prairie dress. Every kid in Oklahoma had some type of pioneer outfit because you didn't get through elementary school with out re-enacting the Oklahoma Land Run at least once. Actually, I don't even think you're allowed to graduate unless you've been in at least one performance of the musical Oklahoma! . Also, you probably know all of the words to the B.C. Clarke Jewelry store Christmas jingle. You could re-write any of those sentences with "you might be an Oklahoman if..." and my Oklahoma readers out there are all nodding their heads and raising a hand with an "Amen!". 

Any way..sod house...Laura Ingalls Wilder. I still had long hair then and mom would put it into two long french braids. I'd put that bonnet on and I was Laura Ingalls. I'd fill my Strawberry Shortcake tablecloth up with dishes, a teapot, maybe some bread if I could sneak it from the kitchen and tie up the ends in a hobo sack and cart all of it out to my makeshift sod house. There was a lot to keeping up your sod house. Sweeping. Setting the table. Finding water. Prairie life wasn't easy and I'd spend all day working on it. While most kids were playing G.I. Joe or Smurf, I was playing Little House on the Prairie. This was not unusual. I played more book characters than cartoon characters. There was a tag game we used to play where you had to say a cartoon character name to keep from getting tagged. I was always getting tagged because I couldn't come up with a cartoon character as quickly as a book character. The summer I read the Little House books was the summer I lived as Laura. 

As we made our way up Hwy 29 through South Dakota, my eyes grew large as I read "Laura Ingalls Wilder Homestead, Exit 133". I looked over at Talaura to see that she had the same look as I felt I had on my face and said "We might need to make a detour". Talaura did some fast research and when it was discovered that not only was it Laura's homestead, but also where she met and married Almonzo Wilder there was no question. We detoured. I may or may not have emitted a squeal of delight as we drove up to the homestead and once we were inside, I headed straight to the dugout, which had been built as a replica of the one the Ingalls lived in on the banks of Plum Creek in Walnut Grove, MN. I placed my hands on the dirt sod walls. I could smell the earth. I watched my feet kick up little clouds of dust as I walked across the floor. I was standing inside a book. And I've just teared up thinking about it. For a moment, I was once again that little girl with french braids and a bonnet, playing in the pasture. 

This is what books and reading does to me. It turns me into a nostalgic sap, but I don't even care. In my lifetime I have been Alice chasing a white rabbit, Lucy peaking through a wardrobe door. I was Juana Maria, surviving on my own on my own little island. And I was Laura Ingalls, living a prairie life and falling in love with Almonzo. I have lived so many lives. 

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

My dad would come home from work every day around 4 when I was little. He'd set his work things down and then grab a cold pancake from the morning stack of pancakes, smear peanut butter on it and then eat it while walking back to his chair where he'd usually nap before dinner. My whole life I have gone through food phases. One month, I would eat nothing but a poached egg for breakfast. Every day. Poached egg. Sometimes it would be a month of oatmeal. Breakfast is my ritual. I have no recollection of what dad ate for a snack during poached egg season, but pancake season meant a left over stack of pancakes that dad would eat (cold) with peanut butter. This was the most disgusting thing to me. Every time he'd ask me to go smear some peanut butter on a cold pancake for him, I'd screw up my face and say "ew". Today I will gladly eat peanut butter on a hot pancake. I am still uncertain of cold pancakes. Dad would also pour molasses all over his biscuits (mom too). I'm pretty sure this is a Southern thing and one that never rubbed off onto their children. My dad introduced me to Vienna (Vv-eye-anna) sausages and potted meat. I will admit to eating these things with him. Of course, even if I were a meat eater, I wouldn't touch the stuff now. Oh the chemicals those little cans contain! He also introduced me to banana sandwiches. When I tell people about banana sandwiches, they scrunch up their faces and say "ew". White bread, mayo and bananas. That's it. I suppose it's the mayo that turns most people off. I come from a home where fruit salads where/are made with cool-whip or mayo. A banana sandwich with mayo is really just a fruit salad with bread, minus the maraschino cherries. I also put mayo on hot dogs. When Stephanie first heard of this she said "that's as bad as putting mayo on a baloney sandwich!". I did that too. Baloney is just a flattened hot dog any way. The mayo on sandwiches was not my concoction. This was learned behavior from Dad.

In the years before I got my drivers license, Dad would drive me to cello lessons in Tulsa. He'd always get us there too early. To kill time, we'd go to McDonald's and split an order of french fries. I know now that he got us there early on purpose. To this day whenever I eat McDonald's fries this is what I think of. I remember the two of us in the front seat eating french fries with my cello propped up carefully in the back seat. Dad would always eat the crunchy fries that I didn't care for. Come to think of it, Dad would always eat the thing off your plate that you didn't like. Janell burnt a whole batch of cookies once. Every single one came out of the oven looking like charcoal. The dog wouldn't even eat them, but Dad did.

These are some of the things I love about Dad.

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

I have heard of family road trips from others and all the games that were played while driving to their destinations. I have heard tales of car bingo, slug bug, name that roadkill, I spy, and I'm sure there's more. We took countless road trips growing up. My parents had a camp trailer and Dad loved nothing more than loading that gas hog up and travelling across country. Vacations that involved flying to our destination also included a rental car. Once we arrived, we'd get in the car and dad would drive all over the place. One time we drove all the way around the island of Maui in one day. I was raised on road trips, but I was not raised on road trips with car games. The closest we ever came to anything resembling a road trip game was on our annual trips to Colorado. Dad would offer a silver dollar to the first person to spot a moose. No one ever spotted a moose. I spent those car rides staring out the window (looking for that elusive moose), reading or just plain listening to my Walkman (and singing along). Often times I was the only kid in the car and was left to slug bugging myself. Michael and his brother used to play "those cows are mine" while riding in the backseat on car trips. Every time you see a cow or a heard of cows, you say "those cows are mine!". I don't really know how you keep score or how you keep track of how many cows you own. I think part of the game is smack talking the other player's newly owned cows. "Your cows look like they have the mange". "Those cows are skinny sickly looking things." All things usually said by the person with the least amount of cows. The first time Michael and I took a road trip together, I remembered him telling me about this game. We were having a conversation when I stopped mid sentence and waived my hand in the direction of some field. I'd forgotten the correct wording and ended up saying something like "Those cows over there? I own ALL of those cows" in a very Royal like way. Since then, I've claimed cows and sheep even though Michael says every time I claim sheep that it doesn't count. Those sheep are mine too. In the meantime I have introduced Michael to the game that Chris and I started when we moved to KC where we made SmartCars the new punch buggy.

Talaura gave us car tags for this road trip. We kept a list of all the different state car tags that we saw. The ideal is to find all fifty states. She told us this was something they always did on family car trips. I realize now that I missed out by not playing these car games. I probably would be a lot better at US geography. We managed to accumulate a list of 30 states, two different government plates and five Canadian plates. The more states we accumulated, the hungrier I became to find all 50 states. Yes. I realize the probability of spotting a Hawaii license was like 1% if that, but it sure didn't keep me from looking for it. I think we were all very surprised by the tags that we saw and the tags that we expected to see in that area but didn't. We didn't get a New Mexico tag until our last day, but found a Maine and New Hampshire early on. I would have expected to not see a Maine before almost missing a New Mexico. And those people that traveled from New Hampshire? That's what I call a road trip.

We also kept a list of wildlife we spotted which included a real Cowboy (spotted just inside Wyoming). But it's the car tag game that sticks with me the most. I love that Talaura added this to our trip and I can see that she's given me a game that I'll keep going for all my road trips to come. I will spot Hawaii! What about you guys? Tell me about your favorite road trip games or memories for this Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

Tuesday morning, I pulled up next to a slick Mercedes at a stop light on my way to work. The driver of the car just happened to be one of our security officers from work. The light turned green and I took off. He caught up with me eventually and passed me, but we ended up walking into the building together. The first thing he said to me was "man, you sure get that little scooter up there in speed". The second thing he said to me was that it is so much fun watching me ride that scooter. He told me that I just looked so happy and that you could see that riding the scooter was pure joy. I agreed wholeheartedly with him. Tension, sadness, anger, frustration just sort of blow off of me when I ride the scooter. I didn't buy a scooter. I bought joy on two wheels. But that's not something you guys haven't all heard before. This is not another entry about how wonderful the scooter is, though the scooter is the most wonderful thing. No, this Love Thursday is all about the contagion called joy. I am going to admit that this week has not been easy for me to navigate. I have been easily irritated and riddled with anxiety. There's a lot going on and coming up and stuff happening. Change is good, but sudden change is like getting hit in the face with ice water. I need a minute to catch my breath and get used to the idea that I just got hit in the face with ice water. Maybe all of this has made me hyper aware of the things in my life that bring me joy. Like riding the scooter or yoga. There was a day this week where Richard and I took our practice outside under the pavilion near our beautiful water fountains. It was just us and the roar of the fountains and it was bliss. At the end of our practice I said something about it being almost like resort yoga. In that hour of yoga outside I found so much peace and joy that I couldn't help smiling. I'd start grinning and then Richard would start to smile. My joy would spread over to someone else. Just like seeing me riding the scooter brought joy to that security guard. Joy is contagious.

And my days are full of these joyful moments. All it takes is for one person to witness that moment for that joy to spread. Faster than the common cold virus. I didn't even realize that security guard was paying attention to me when I was on the scooter. He witnessed me in a completely unguarded moment of happiness. Someone's always watching. I remember telling a friend this once in our HS freshman biology class. She'd cheated on a test and she turned to me and asked me if I thought any one had seen her. I told her "someone is always watching you". This reflection has made me very mindful of the times this week where I've expressed my frustrations in a negative light. How often has someone seen me scowl this week? Too many times, that's for sure.

For today's Love Thursday, I'm working on being more mindful of who sees those scowls and spending more time focusing on the little joyful moments that happen throughout the day. I'm going to be a new kind of Typhoid Mary. A Joyful Cindy. Look out. You could find yourself coming down with your own case of joy.

LOVE THURSDAY

I've been watching the AMC series, Hell on Wheels while walking on the treadmill these days. The other day the the show opened with a scene involving a Native American ritual. The Chief and a holy man lead one of the warriors out into a field. They placed a tall pole with two long threads of leather hanging from the top. Then they threaded the leather through the skin on the warrior's chest. The warrior leaned back on his heels and just sort of hung suspended from the leather tongs. The Chief told the warrior to follow the sun and stay strong. He said that if he remained true and strong, he would be rewarded with a vision. History is full of rituals that involve fasting and hours and hours of physical discomfort to bring about visions from the Gods. Yogis sit for hours a day meditating in search of enlightenment. I used to attend a Buddhist temple and after the lesson and meditation, we'd all gather in a circle and discuss the things we saw during our meditations. While I tended to find peace and comfort during meditation, I did not have visions. Others in the group told tales of sitting under enormous trees and even becoming part of that tree and light and warmth and hoodie voodie mumbo jumbo. The occasional word, a moment of understanding maybe, but there were no trees or becoming trees behind my closed eyelids. I tell you these stories of vision quests because I have nothing else. I started this entry realizing that this week I have no words of wisdom or insight to share. Not even a scroll through recent pictures did any good to trigger inspiration. It may be time for a vision quest of my own. A good juice fast and a day of laying out on hot pavement could do the trick, or maybe just a good old fashioned road trip across the Dakotas (more on that later). While my time on my mat has grown more consistent, my meditation practice has never recovered from when we first moved here. There were stretches of time where I had a fairly good on again off again meditation practice, but it has not picked up into a daily habit. Like brushing my teeth every day or taking my birth control pill every morning. It is not so much about quieting the mind as it is poor time management. There just doesn't seem to be enough time to settle myself in one spot for twenty minutes of mantra and breathing. Especially when there's new episodes of Orange is the New Black and I have two library books to read.

There's something I have noticed though. There are moments throughout my day where I'm unintentionally meditating. My mantra is cleaning objective lenses or chopping potatoes for the next day's breakfast. Yesterday, I blew up 400 balloons to put in Jeff's cubicle while he was out for his birthday. There was a calm rhythm to placing the balloon on the air nozzle, filling it with air and then tying it off. Occasionally a balloon would pop and the loud smack and shock of it would bring me back to where ever I had let myself drift off too. I may not be sitting down at a designated time and setting a timer for twenty minutes, but I am making a point to be mindful. I know that one day I will get my meditation practice back. I don't know if I will ever see visions or find "enlightenment". There have been times when specific words have floated through my brain while meditating, but never visions of any kind of God speaking to me. My science brain probably won't tolerate such nonsense. But I do love those moments when I find myself smack dab in the middle of a moving meditation without purposefully going there.

Maybe I'll have more thoughts on this after I juice all that kale I harvested from the garden. Happy Love Thursday!

LOVE THURSDAY

Kansas City is holding to that whole thing about the first day of summer officially being on June 21st. April showers have been delayed. These days I read the weather report and when it says 30% chance of rain, I think 70% chance of scooter. Yesterday the forecast was 100% scooter and today we're back to 0% chance of scooter. Saturday morning we woke up to yet another day of steady rain. Usually I'm all about crawling back into bed with a good book on those kinds of days, but Michael was all "let's go do something!". After looking up various indoor activities, we decided on a visit to the Kemper Museum for Contemporary Art. It's a museum that I hadn't been too yet, which is crazy because it is a free art museum. FREE ART MUSEUM! The Nelson is also a free art museum by the way. The Kemper is very small compared to the Nelson, but I will say it again, FREE ART MUSEUM. Can I just say that I love that I live in a city that understands the benefits of providing these beautiful spaces of art appreciation to it's citizens? It is a wonderful luxury and a great way to spend a rainy afternoon. Like I said, the Kemper is small. It does not take long to see the whole of it, but the exhibits rotate frequently. That means there's always something new when you go back. The Kemper also keeps a small stack of floor cushions near the entry way of each room, encouraging people to sit and meditate on any particular bit of art they want and if it hadn't been raining I would have taken full advantage of the hammock sculptures out front. This time we were treated to a video by Barry Anderson, a wonderful Andy Warhol piece and a lovely bright and sunny Georgia O'Keeffe painting. It was nice to walk in and immediately be greeted with a Chihuly sculpture. But my favorite piece on display was a three panel painting by David Bates. The panel depicts the reaction to the events following Hurricane Katrina. It is the painting that I would sit in front of on a floor cushion for hours.

The thing about this painting that draws me in is that each face is so different. Yet they are all expressing some variation of sadness and anger. You see it so clearly in their eyes. Even if you didn't know the story behind this painting, you would know that this group of people were witnessing a terrible event in our history and you see all the sadness and anger this event evoked. But it's more than that for me. It's the concept of even though the faces are so different, the emotion still looks the same. Sadness, anger, joy, love. Each of us are so different and unique in our own way and we all feel and express these emotions the same. It's the thing that connects us, joins us together and builds bridges.

The events that happened during and after Katrina where horrific. There's no pussy footing around it. But there were good things born from this too. People came together to help each other. Beautiful stories of births and survival emerged from the rubble. Determination and love has sprouted up in the rebuilding and healing of that city. Art work like David Bates' reminds us of those horrible times sure, but it also shows us the beauty that can come from suffering.

I think I may be spending more rainy afternoons at the art museums. Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

The first time I saw him, he was running down Troost Ave. It was one of those sites that made me do a double take and think "wait...did I really just see an old black man dressed as Superman running down the street?". I would see him again in other areas of the city. Sometimes he'd be running along Main Street and sometimes he'd be carrying an American flag. When Michael and I visited the World War I Museum on Memorial Day, he was running laps in the big circle drive of the museum. As I stepped out into the drive to take his picture, he looked at me and said "I'm about to finish up lap number seven.". Later, I read that he calls these "Jericho laps". I wanted to know this man's story. Michael waived the man off as just another weirdo, but I believed there was more here than just plain old kooky. I discovered that our running Superman's name is Michael Wheeler, he's 61 years old, and he's been running for most of his life. He has jogged through every state twice and has been in several marathons, including the Boston Marathon. He says he started running to escape bullies. He was tired of getting beaten up, so he ran. Now, he says he runs for Jesus. He calls himself a running evangelist and he runs six days a week rain or shine, starting in the mornings, breaking for lunch and prayer and finishing his run around 8 pm in the evening.

The Superman costume is a fairly recent addition. He only started wearing it the last couple of years. He said that he just gets a kick out of the attention the costume brings him. He's always had a love of Superheros and thought maybe donning a cape would be inspirational.

“People need inspiration and hope. In our world there’s so much going on. People are fearful,” said Wheeler. “There’s a lot of hate. If people just let that down, this would be a better world.”

And he admits that the Superman costume gives him a mental boost too. When I started writing this post, I struggled with how I should describe this man. What's the difference between saying "old man" and "old black man"? Why should it matter if the man is black or white? Normally I would say that it doesn't matter at all, except in this case and totally not for any negative reasoning. The Superman emblem brings to mind images of a muscular young white man. Wheeler's choice to use this as his costume says to me that ANYONE can be a Superman. He's telling the world that race and age don't matter and that we all have the potential to be superheros. We all have the potential to inspire and bring hope to others. So, while some people will look at this man, shake their heads and say "crazy weirdo", I will look at this man, raise a fist in the air and say "totally awesome inspirational dude". When I see him running down the sidewalk, I know that the world is going to be a better place that day.

“I’m gonna run till I take my last breath.”

Happy Love Thursday Mr. Wheeler.

LOVE THURSDAY

We are sitting outside by the fire and he says to me "I've never been this happy with anyone before." He knows that I have. Says he knows. I have paused, just sitting back in my silent way and feeling slightly guilty for my silence. But I am always cautious, choosing my words carefully. I can feel his judgment of that silence or maybe it's my own judgement of my silence. I know that there are times where he is aggravated by my how little I say out loud. The thing is, I'd been working on my timeline on Legacy Builder, backing up images from my Flickr with dates. It didn't take me long to wish I had just started with my current timeline. It didn't take long for me to see that my timeline is broken. Distinctly broken. Split in three: my life with Chris, my life alone, my new life with Michael and the Cabbage. As I build my timeline starting with the earliest pictures in Flickr, I am painfully aware of how happy I was in that first timeline. I scroll through those pictures looking for that moment, looking for the break. I want to know if I can see it. I expect to see an obvious change in the photographs. Except there isn't one. I take a photo and upload it on January 19th 2012. It's a pond full of geese. The next picture is of Quinn at the zoo exactly one month later. The only break is the one in my head (heart). Those pictures bookend the most horrible. That's the first break in the timeline. From there on out the pictures on flickr are of friends and family and places and things. I have stopped taking selfies. The few times my mug makes an appearance, I look normal enough. Most of those pictures are blurry though, taken at odd moments where the photographer was either drunk or I was moving or both. The next wave of pictures in the timeline look like they were taken underwater or filtered. They're all of plants and food like I was trying to convince people that I was eating. That's not true for the whole timeline, just the few months after the most horrible. There really isn't much of a break between this timeline and the next. The pictures from the beginning of my current timeline take on a sort of glow. Everything looks brighter and more vivid. I am no longer blurry and I take more selfies. My smile is genuine.

Finally, I speak. I look at Michael and say "I never thought I'd be this happy again with someone else". OK. So it's not the first time for me. Big deal. There is something special about knowing that this kind of happiness is possible and being able to share that with someone who has never experienced it. I read over this and slightly roll my eyes at how cringe worthy this all sounds. Cheesy. Grossly romantic. But I speak the truth and I hope that honesty brings him comfort or ease or whatever it is he needs. I am happy. This happiness occasionally comes with a side of guilt. Well, part guilt and part fuck you Chris. Or thank you Chris. No one tells you that happiness comes with complications, but it's a big beautiful gift of lovely complications.

Happy Love Thursday.

LOVE THURSDAY

I used to walk Hooper in the neighborhood about three times a week. We had a set route that we'd take and I think Hooper had it memorized. I knew the exact distance that I could go that wouldn't leave me dragging him home or him tugging me further for more. It was good for both of us. I lost a few more pounds and Hooper got to pee on all of the plants. I let that evening walk go when I let go of Hooper. There are tons of excuses I could use, but really I just didn't want to walk by myself through the neighborhood. It seemed a little too depressing. The neighborhood had grown used to the sight of Hooper and I walking down the sidewalk. Now it would just be me walking down the sidewalk and I didn't think I could take any more pity stares. I left my walking to the treadmill. Over the weekend (after many poor food choices), Michael declared that we would walk every evening after dinner. I nodded my head in agreement, but set the idea aside. Sunday, after a long drive, grocery shopping and putting all of those things and everything else away, we sat down to eat pizza for dinner. Again, not really the best food choice. As I finished my slice of pizza, Michael took my plate and said "you ready?". It took me a few minutes to figure out what I was supposed to be ready for and when I realized he was serious about the whole walking thing, my immediate reaction was to whine about it. Except I didn't. I got up and put on my walking shoes. And we walked. We walked in a part of my neighborhood I hadn't walked through before. Both of us pointed out various houses that we liked as we walked or made note of how well this street was kept compared to a street over. I pointed out gardens and flowers. The peonies are in full bloom here along with the irises. We even came across some wild poppies growing in the yard of one abandoned home. At the end of the walk I had to admit that I felt better. I was still tired from our weekend, but moving my body had relieved the damage done from sitting in a car all day.

And so we have continued with our evening walks, taking a different path and exploring a different section of the neighborhood each evening. One house we passed had the biggest yard. I looked at it and said "all of that space? garden" and Michael agreed. I said we'd be real urban farmers then and what we didn't eat or sell we'd take to the food pantries. This is how all of the walks go, the two of us pointing out this house or that plant. People who are from KCMO always gasp when I tell them I live just east of Troost. Even Michael was leery. The area has a reputation and there are evenings when I lay awake listening to the police helicopter, but I've never had any problems and I've never felt unsafe. Michael started to change his view of the area soon after he moved in and then when we found that house that we (still) really want, my neighborhood was suddenly just fine. These evening walks through our neighborhood solidifies just how fine this place can be. I love noticing new things about this area that I never noticed before like how big all of the trees are or the way the helicopter seeds have landed in gutters so that they are standing on end. They look like they are waving at you. We passed a house the day before that looked like it belonged in the Swiss Alps, evergreen trees and all. This new activity could easily become my new favorite thing.

Here's to discovering new things in my own backyard and happy Love Thursday!