THANKFUL FRIDAY

I am always a little surprised when we come home from a trip and find all of our animals are still living. This sounds macabre. Josephine is always in good hands with Terry, having the time of her life playing with his three little monsters. It’s the cat and the chickens that are just left up to their own devices. We basically just put out extra food and water for both and hope for the best. There have been times when get home from a trip and Albus will not show his face for days. It is around day three of being home and no cat showing up that I start to get melancholy and right at this moment is when Albus shows up, full of meowing complaints. I was telling Amani last night that we say we hate the cat, but we really love him. I mean just the other night he brought a very large rat into the dining room and then ate it. What’s not to love about this cat?

The first thing Michael did when we got home last Thursday night was take a flashlight out to the chicken coop and count chickens. All three were present and Michael and I started talking about getting two new chicks. We can’t just get one chick because the other chickens will be mean to it. You’re supposed to introduce new chickens in pairs and we started to get a little excited about baby chicks. Then I hesitated. I worried about the size of the coop and if it was big enough to fit five chickens comfortably. They’d be cosy in the winter, but crowded in the summer. So we decided to wait until we were down to two chickens before we add anymore to our circus.

And who knows when that will be.

Every year, I am surprised when I find that the chickens are laying eggs. I will hold up the egg and say “well…this is probably the last year of eggs.” Marguerette has provided four eggs for us so far this year, which was completely unexpected. It is a joyful surprise. I’m still waiting to see if the other two are going to lay any. The weather has been so wishy washy. I figure that the other two are waiting until the ground isn’t so soggy since they prefer to leave their eggs in the window well. I am grateful for the few eggs we have received and the anticipation of more eggs, but I am really thankful that we still have at least three of our original chickens.

I am thankful that our little circus is still thriving.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

It snowed here all day and well into the night on Thursday. I went to bed around nine and it was still coming down. I woke to a new layer of snow on a driveway that had already been cleared once the previous day, and I felt in my soul that I am not cut out for this kind of weather. Weeks ago, while I was staying at Heather’s and it was snowing, I sent a text to Michael about maybe going to California for Spring Break. We hemmed and hawed and looked at prices and we both agreed that we didn’t want to spend that much money to go away somewhere. We are remodeling the kitchen this summer. That is our vacation. So then we started looking at places we’d be willing to drive to and I suggested New Orleans. It meets my current criteria of temperature needs and Michael has never been.

Michael keeps telling me that he’s just going to ‘follow my lead’ and let me show him the city because I know it so well. I am not so sure that I do know it so well. At least, not any more. I’d been there so many times with Dad, just the two of us. There was a trip made once where J came with us. I think the last time I was in New Orleans was 1999/2000. It was before I started storing photos online somewhere. There’s a picture of Chris and I hugging and smiling at the camera as we stand inside the jaws of Megalodon shark. It’s on my desk at work. That was the last time I was in New Orleans. Chris, Todd and I drove down for Spring Break. We stayed across the bridge in the West Bank area because it was cheap. We had coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde, visited the aquarium and the zoo. We wandered the streets of the French Quarter and had our Tarot cards read in Jackson Square. We ate too much food. We spent one rainy day driving to Covington and the Abita Brewery. The dripping moss from the trees and the watercolor greens of everything made that day feel like being inside and an impressionists painting.

We laughed. We laughed so much and so often.

J died August first of 2005. Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans August twenty third of 2005, wreaking havoc and destroying so much of the city my family had grown to love. It almost seemed fitting at the time. The hurricane shared a name with my sister-in-law and all the rage and grief we were experiencing. The city is different. I am different. I don’t want to disappoint Michael, but I don’t think I am going to be able to show him the city I loved so much in my youth. The city and I have changed with age. The things I had no interest in doing before are all the things I am starting to put on my list of things to do for this trip, like cemeteries and voodoo shops, how to sneak into an abandoned amusement park without getting arrested. I am already thinking of all the things I want to point my camera lens at and how tempted I am to do all of my photography in black and white.

There is one thing that I know I can share with Michael that will be similar to my trips before and that’s the food. Sure many, if not most, of the places I knew of before that I could count on for good food have closed their doors. This doesn’t mean that food and recipes of the region have disappeared. It is crawfish season and still oyster season. Frank’s in the French Quarter with the muffaletta sandwiches is still in business. Even though I can’t eat the sandwich, I am still excited about introducing Michael to it. Buildings and businesses may have changed drastically in the years since I have been there, but the essence of the city with its rich culture and extraordinary food remains the same. This is what I am thankful for. This is what I thankful to be able to share with Michael.

Maybe I’ll come back with an exhibition of photos. Maybe I’ll come back with mercury poisoning from all the raw oysters I plan to eat. I know for sure that I will come back with new stories, new memories and a restoration of an old love.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Our current task for Self Care Circle is to create a color-coded time map for our calendars. We’re using Google calendars and we’re supposed to add events and color code them to our liking. For instance, everything that is exercise related on my calendar is basil green, work is yellow, stuff like my yoga practice and building walks are red and education stuff is purple. I’ve been adding events to my calendar all week and at one point I paused and looked at ALL OF THE THINGS and I started hyperventilating. I took a screenshot and sent it to my friend Sarah. I told her that my calendar looks unrealistic and insane and I haven’t even added everything yet. She said “That’s why you’re doing it.” She then praised me on the amount of exercise I have on my calendar and told me that she thinks I do a pretty good job with the whole self care thing. She reminded me that I exercise, I write, I make art, I do that crazy Spelling Bee game in the NYTimes, I cook and I clean.

I do a lot of stuff.

Then she said “I think you should focus on positive self talk.” and I said “I think you need to shut up.”

No. I did not say that.

When I look at the weekly view of my calendar, here is what I see. I see a lot of red and yellow. So much so that it looks like my calendar is on fire. I was thinking about this during one of my building walks, the yellow and red waving around like heat waves in my head, and the first edit I am going to make is to change those colors. I do not need to look at my calendar and feel like my life is on fire. The next changes I plan to make is to add some events. One day this week, while standing out on the work patio at tea time, I watched a young man with a backpack, wearing headphones while roller skating down the sidewalk. Actually, to just call it roller skating is an injustice to what this young man was doing. It was a ballet on wheels. He roller danced his way down that sidewalk with ease and confidence and I knew right then and there what event needed to be added to my calendar. I am replacing my usual Wednesdays at Heather’s (she’s leaving today for her new job) with Roller Skating Wednesdays. I am also adding some rest events because if you were to look at my calendar now, you would say “Cindy! When are you ever still?!?!?” Events like ‘sit on the couch for an hour and squeeze my dog’ seems like a necessary item to add to the calendar.

Really, I need to remember that all the things in my calendar are intentions. There were only three days this week where I crawled out of bed early enough to do both thirty minutes of exercise and walk the dog. The intent was there; the body just wasn’t willing (probably because I never have an intention for resting). My personal yoga time happened twice this week. I am super busy at work right now and I just could not carve out extra time for my mat. Hey, but here are the things I did do. I walked the building multiple times a day. I did my job and I did it really well (science is hard). I spent time with friends in the evenings. That wasn’t on my calendar at all. I did some writing. I made some art. I checked in with some friends I hadn’t talked to in a while. I rode my scooter. I made Queen Bee four out of five days this week.

Why is it so easy to fall back into a mindset of only seeing the things one didn’t do? Today, I am grateful for all the things I did do.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’ve been staying at Heather’s since Tuesday because I was dog sitting for her while she travelled to Virginia to finalize housing and paperwork for her new job. Tuesday evening, we had dinner with another former coworker before Heather walked me through the details of feeding times for both beagles and medication times for one beagle. She left the house sometime around 4:30 AM the next morning and I spent Wednesday evening alone with two beagles in a mostly packed up house. One would think that with all that quiet, I might have used the time to work on some personal projects. Instead I languished on the couch, idly scratching beagle heads while watching season three of Search Party.

I woke Thursday morning to snow and the news that Russia had invaded the Ukraine. Then I pondered what this means for us as a country, as well as what the impacts are going to be globally. These events are the ingredients of a world war, but having the ingredients doesn’t necessarily mean we end up baking that cake. Looking at the images coming out of the Ukraine makes it all seem so surreal. These are metropolitan cities much like New York City or Chicago being bombed, with people like you and I being displaced from their homes. We are not talking about small villages here or a less affluent nation. Many a Nobel Prize winning scientist have come from the Ukraine. I think the concept of what this might remotely be like for these people is completely lost in this country. The destruction of our towns and cities come from natural disasters. Attacks come from within, like Texas where my partner and myself could be investigated for child abuse because we support his trans child. Attacks come from our neighbors, not invading countries.

The last battle fought on American soil was in the Aleutian Islands during World War II. Before that, it was the Civil War. Today’s Americans do not know the consequences of war unless they had a family member/friend die in Iraq or Afghanistan. We live in a bubble. Yes, sometimes horrific stuff happens inside that bubble, but war happens outside of it. This makes us very fortunate and I am grateful for this privilege. For this, my mantra this week is a simple one:

May we not forget to have gratitude for our privilege by doing what we can to support those who have been displaced by war.

I found this article about meaningful ways to help the Ukraine to be very useful: 8 Meaningful Ways You Can Help Ukraine. There are a number of links provided in that article for making donations.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’ve rolled the ‘sleep well’ block for the last two weeks in a row. Both times, I have laughed and questioned the meaning of those words. Is it a wish or a command? Either way, it doesn’t work. My sleep always gets wonky around my menstrual cycle. This is also the time of year that I tend to revert back to the sleep habits formed when Chris was sick. Those things combined have had me waking up from odd, sometimes horrifying, dreams at various hours throughout the night. This week in particular was a doozy for the dreaming. In one night, I had a horrible fight with a dear friend that had me waking up yelling in anger and then Josephine was in an awful accident that had me waking up wailing in grief and terror.

Before the horrible dreams, there was one dream that was so odd and ridiculous. I’m not sure what was happening. It was sort of an Outlander meets Fringe situation. I was standing with the group of people I had just time-alternate-universe travelled with when a group of ‘native’ men came riding up on various animals. There were the usual things like men on horses, but two in the group were riding giraffes. This visual of men riding giraffes is ridiculous and wonderful. Every time my brain has tried to skip back to replay the horrible dreams, I have forced myself to remember men riding giraffes. Then, on Wednesday night, I dreamed of planting a garden. It seemed important in the dream for me to plant lots of peas and salad greens. I stayed long enough in the dream to watch things sprout and to see the vines of peas wind their way up the elaborate trellis I had built for them. It was the nicest dream that I have had in a long time.

The next morning, I lingered in bed knowing that my car was already under a layer of snow and that I wouldn’t be going anywhere thanks to the eight inches of snow that was falling on our city. I snuggled down under the blankets until Josephine finally nudged me and even then, I got up only long enough to open the bedroom door to let her out. I stayed there another hour or so before finally getting up. I still did my exercises. I even took a shower. I still did work stuff. I just did all of the things without any rush to get them done. I hate the snow, but I needed this snow day.

Today I am grateful for my wild imagination that brings visions of men riding giraffes and green growing gardens. I am grateful for a surprise day of restfulness and time to ponder those visions.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I am thankful for every time you made me laugh.

I am grateful for the rare times I made you laugh.

I am thankful that I only need one hand to count the number of times we ever really fought.

I am thankful for the ways you challenged me to be better and to work smarter.

I am thankful for the balance, both mentally and emotionally, of our relationship.

I am grateful for all the ways you supported my dreams and ideas.

I am grateful to the value you gave to the words that I spoke.

I am thankful for the moments when we struggled.

I am thankful for the moments when we succeeded together.

I am thankful for all the ‘firsts’ I had with you.

I am grateful for being a witness to your brilliance and wit.

I am grateful for all the photos I have where you are looking at me instead of the camera.

I am thankful for the photos I have of you looking directly at the camera.

I am thankful that I was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

I am grateful you showed me how a relationship should be.

I am grateful for every moment.

I am thankful that time has not depreciated or diluted my feelings for you and all of the above.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

This year’s 52 week photo project happens on Sunday mornings. I clear a space on the dining room table. Then I roll out the mindfulness dice that Michael gave me for Christmas and set them up in some sort of structure. I take a number of pictures and then I sort through them for the one I think looks the best. I do some minimal edits and then post. This is my method. Last year, it was the same method, just on a different day. This year, I’m posting the 52 photo project to more than one place. I finally decided to renew my flickr account, so I have unlimited photo storage. This also helps me keep track of things. I am terrible at organizing my photos, but if I am really good about creating albums when I am doing specific photo projects.

I didn’t have this available to me last year. I thought I could just get by with using Instagram and let my Flickr membership go. Technically, I could have still used. It was just that I was full on storage with the free version. I would have had to delete photos to make room for new photos. I am really good about throwing away tangible things, but not digital things. So, the 52 week project went to Instagram. Each week, I would scroll through my Instagram photos before posting the newest project photo so I could make sure I was on the correct number. It was kind of messy. So, I fixed that for this year’s project and I am really glad that I did. It is really nice and somewhat rewarding to go to one folder and see all of the pictures for that project.

Since this year’s project involves dice, I would expect a certain amount of randomness from picture to picture. I know it has only been five weeks, but the words ‘let go’ have appeared in three out of the five pictures. ‘Trust intuition’ has appeared twice, as well as ‘find joy’, but ‘let go’ has been the most persistent. Because of this persistent mindfulness block, I’ve been stuck on the idea and concept of ‘let go’. It doesn’t say ‘let it go’, inducing me to break out into song (you know the one). It very clearly says ‘let go’. My interpretation of this is multilayered and wrapped up into the emotional constraints that I put on myself. I have just started reading Emotional: How Feelings Shape Our Thinking by Leonard Mlodinow. I picked it up for research purposes regarding something that I am writing and hopefully shaping into a book. I am not far into this book yet, but I am far enough in to know that this just might be some relevant reading material.

Leonard Mlodinow begins the book with a story about his parents, both of whom survived the Holocaust. His mother tended to approach every situation with an over dramatic reaction. Something as simple as a breaking shoelace became “Oh, the horrors! The Nazis are coming. All is lost.” His dad was the opposite. Everything was met with a calm even reaction. Mlodinow became curious about how two people experiencing the same horrific traumas could have such different displays of emotion and how the way they display those emotions affect how their children understand ‘normal’ emotions. Oof…those are some very interesting questions Mlodinow is asking and why the ‘let go’ mindfulness keeps showing up for me. Sometimes, what you have been taught and shown to be ‘normal’, is not really all that normal.

I am grateful for the mantra this week of ‘let go’. I have said these words to myself as I layed in savasana and allowed myself to have no judgment as the tears have fallen from my eyes. I have not had a tear-free savasana since before January. I have said those words this week when despite my tired body, I thought I should be doing more things, be more active. I skipped one day of exercise, but made it to my yoga mat every day. I felt those words this week when bitterness and resentment have risen up inside me, threatening to spill out of my mouth (or at least my fingers). I can’t explain this one; bitterness and resentment has just been present this week. I will allow myself tears of sadness and joy. I will allow bouts of frustration. I allow myself human emotions. I am letting go of containing myself inside the restrictive emotional box of my own making.

It is a mantra that must be practiced and repeated often.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Today, I am meeting my friend Nurse Jen, for lunch. She was our camp nurse at Camp Wildling, but she’s also a nurse in real life, working in very stressful conditions at a local hospital. She posted something in her timeline earlier in the week that made me think that she had more than reached her limit of dead people and COVID. So I reached out to check in with her mental health. We made a plan, set a time and a place and everything, to meet. I felt like I deserved a gold star for following through because I am usually in full turtle mode during the winter. I can’t wait to see her and do what I can to lighten her life a little right now, be some ears to things she needs to rant about and some healing comic relief.

Follow through….sometimes that is not my forte.

Michael made reservation for Farina for my birthday last weekend. We knew the restaurant was going to be fancier than our usual restaurant experience, but I don’t think either of us were prepared for just how fancy it turned out to be. On top of the impeccably placed table settings and service, the food was exquisite. I started off with a gin cocktail and dozen oysters. Michael started with carpaccio, which is basically a plate of thinly sliced raw meat. He’s had this dish before at another restaurant and when I tried it, I told him it tasted like nails. He assured me that this did not taste like nails. My oysters were followed up with a shrimp and pasta dish that was light and lemony and spicy. Michael had roast served on saffron risotto. We were both so pleased with the meal and the experience that I suggested we put this in the budget. I said that we should pick a new fancy place once a month or every other month. So we did. We didn’t wait or hesitate. We sat there and parrused restaurants until we agreed on one and then Michael made reservation for February.

It was a very satisfying moment.

My friend Alice, when she introduced me to her partner, said “Cindy is the person who says she’s going to do something and then does the thing she said she was going to do.” I was surprised by this. I am still surprised by this observation of my personality. I feel like, oh so often, I fail to follow through with things that I want to do. I realize now that you, the audience, have no idea of all the things I don’t end up doing because I don’t ever say the thing I want to do out loud. For every one want that gets voiced, there are twenty others inside my head and it is the twenty other unvoiced wants that I end up fixating on. My plans with Jen, the advanced reservations with Michael, both of those things were spontaniouse moments. They are moments where I didn’t hesitate or pause to over think the pros and cons. I just took action.

I’m grateful for the reminder that I am the woman who says she’s going to do something and then does the thing she said she was going to do.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Every morning, while Michael and I are getting ready for work, I will tell Alexa to play some music. Sometimes I tell her what to play, usually a playlist that I have curated of music that both of us enjoy hearing. Sometimes, I just let Alexa decide what we’re going to listen to. When it’s our birthdays, I ask Alexa to play songs from whatever year we were born. The first time I did this, it was Michael’s birthday and the first song to start playing was one by Creedence Clearwater. I don’t remember which song it was, but I looked at Michael and said “So….this was 1975?”

Yesterday, when I asked Alexa to play the hits from 1976, the first song to start playing was Don’t Go Breaking My Heart, by Elton John and Kiki Dee. All the songs that followed were similar disco roller skating songs, with the exception of Paul Simon’s 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. As I swayed my hips from side to side, dancing to this music, I thought “this explains my love of roller skating.” It made me chuckle. I am a toddler of the seventies with my little toddler ears hearing the Bee Gees swirled together with Eric Clapton and Alice Cooper. I am a child of the eighties where I started to lean towards punk rock and alternative artists while still tuning into the tunes of Debbie Gibson and Tiffany. I am a teen of the nineties with grunge and hip-hop and still more alternative music.

I’ve been fortunate to be part of such diversity of musical influences.

I received so many messages of love yesterday. Even the Cabbage sent me a birthday text. Thank you. My dear friend Amani called to FaceTime, which we’ve never done with each other before. I have to tell you, when her live face popped up on my phone, my heart leaped. It was such a joy to see her and laugh with her and oh, how we laughed. I’m sure the people in my office were wondering what the heck was going on, particularly when I got up to draw on the whiteboard to explain to Amani something about work. Which then we laughed even more. It was like we just picked up where we left off from camp. I usually cringe at the idea of talking on the phone and FaceTime makes me want to put a bag over my head, but this was so so nice. I am softening when it comes to communicating by phone and FaceTime.

My birthday is one of those days that tend to be difficult, but not because I am turning a year older. It’s just difficult. Some of you know why and the rest of you don’t need the depressing details. I approach the day with the no expectations and no sudden moves. I just sit back and take in all the well wishes and what a blessing it is to have so many messages of love that I can’t keep up with all the thank yous.

So, with all of the intact parts of my heart, I thank you for the messages of joy.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

When Chris and I moved to Kansas City, Heather was one of the first people we met. Well, I met Heather first through work, but she pulled Chris and I into her orbit pretty quick. Over Christmas, we took the Cabbage with us to Terry’s house for a gathering and at one point the Cabbage asked me “How do you know these people?!?” I looked up at the scene taking place in front of me. Heather, JP and Terry were in the middle of a seriously ridiculous conversation. Billy was stealing cheese cubes off the table. Greg found his way into Heather and Terry’s conversation. Dean was snuggling with Melvin, Terry’s newest rescue pup. All around us, the room rippled with chatter, love and laughter. “Heather introduced me to Terry and Greg. Terry introduced me to the rest of this gang. And all of these people are the very best people in Kansas City that you will ever know.” I replied to the Cabbage.

That is no lie.

Heather is the reason I know Terry and Greg and JP. Heather is the reason I have friends in Kansas City. You just reach a certain age where making new friends and keeping connected with new friendships is difficult, but that hasn’t been the case where Heather is concerned. Soon after we met, Heather took a new job that had her moving out to California. She was not here physically when Chris passed away, but she was with me virtually as I sat in the middle of our bed waiting for hospice to take Chris’s body away. She chatted me through the moment, reminding me that I was not as alone as it might seem. Over the years, there have been many many many texts and visits. Heather moved from California to Colorado to Wisconsin and Michael and I both have visited her in two of those locations. Crabinsgiving was a Heather production that brought Michael and I and Michelle (another beautiful human introduced to us by Heather) and new friends, Maria and Mateo and Heather to a cabin in the Point Reyes National Seashore. We ate lots of shellfish and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Heather is currently between gigs and is living temporarily in one of her rental properties here in Kansas City. She’s living in the best one because it is the house closest to ours and we can walk to each other’s house. We’ve been going back and forth between houses for weeks now. At least once a week, I am at Heather’s for pilates because she’s doing teacher training and I’m her guinea pig. My back went sideways last week and I’ve been in pain ever since, but after class last night with Heather, I actually felt human again. Then she filled me with Indian style chickpeas and rice before sending me home with enough leftovers for lunch the next day.

I am not happy for the whys of Heather’s recent stint in the metro, but I am grateful for this time we are getting to have together. My plan is to soak it up until her next big move. Then I’ll live vicariously through her adventures in a new place until I can go visit. More than anything, I hope that I have been as supportive of her in this down time as she has always been of me. Michael and I have definitely filled her up with food and wine on many an evening. Food is our love language. On top of all of the support, I hope that she knows how grateful I am to have her around because her presence is good for me. She is unstructured where I am all structured and the combination of these two traits balances me.

Michael once said something to me about the people I know, something about their quirkiness. I replied “I collect interesting people.” It’s a nice collection to have.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

We’ve just made it through the first week of the new year and I sure hope everyone has survived. I know that I struggled a bit to get back into my usual routine. The intention was set. My work out gear is sitting in my desk chair in anticipation of me opening up my computer and playing one of my online fitness classes. Instead of getting up to exercise, I lingered under the warm blankets of my bed with Josephine snuggled in next to my hip. I did get on my yoga mat and I did my daily building walks. I ate less cheese this week. I got some evening exercise time in playing Beat Saber. Mostly though, I sat on the couch reading every evening.

The thing that is different about this week versus other weeks is that instead of mentally berating myself for not getting out bed to exercise or spending too much time sitting, I have whispered “have patience with yourself” under my breath, with eyes gently closed. I started teaching a chair yoga class this week and was feeling anxious about it. It has been years since I have taught a chair yoga class and it seems like it has been years since I have taught to a live studio audience. I struggle with the perception that a chair yoga class is not challenging and sort of pointless. In fact when I mentioned that I was teaching this class, a few people said to me “what even is the point of chair yoga?” But my anxiety melted away the minute I started teaching. Not only was the class very well received, but it felt really good to teach and I allowed myself to soak up that feeling of doing something well. It was a reminder that sitting still in a chair is just as effective as sitting still on your mat (or couch).

I have told myself that there is nothing wrong with wanting to practice some hibernation. The attempts to force myself away from this practice has always led me down a self destructive road of exhaustion and disappointment. Because my natural instinct and tendencies lean towards winter hibernation. Yes, I have made personal goals for this year, goals that require me to buckle down and work both physically and mentally. But I will also tell you that part of those personal goals is to work more mindfully and to pace myself. I am easing myself into this year like easing into a swimming pool of cool water, dipping my toes in first, all while patting myself on the back for dipping my toes in at all.

This year, Michael gave me a set of mindfulness dice to use for my weekly photography project. When I rolled and placed the dice for the first picture of the project, it was the block that read “trust intuition” in bold red that stood out for me the most. There are times when I need permission for certain things and this block felt like this was my permission to not just trust my intuition but to honour my natural instincts. This week, I am grateful for trusting myself.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Josephine turned seven last week. I did not mention it earlier or make a big deal about it. She got a haircut and a new bone. Then I cradled her like a baby and showed her pictures of herself when she was a tiny puppy. Goodness, she was so little. I felt my heart lurch when I realized she has been with us for seven years and then I whispered to the God of puppies to please slow down time.

I’ve had a number of friends who have had to say goodbye to their elderly pets this year. When Chad and Jess lost Moses early this Spring, every time I went to their Instagram feeds, I would burst into tears. My friend Kelly and her husband said goodbye to their Sadie just this week and my heart aches for them. My friends, when you lose a pet, we are all mourning that loss with you. It just seems so unfair that these creatures who make such a positive impact on our lives do not get to stay with us through the whole of it. Oh wait…that happens with some people too, but at least with dogs, you go in with the knowledge that they can’t stay with you forever. This is why I do not celebrate Josephine’s birthday. Instead, I focus on celebrating her everyday existence.

When I took her to the groomer’s that morning, she walked in and happily greeted every person in the room. She was so happy and wiggly to meet new people, but as soon as I turned to leave, she froze with a look of shock on her face. I could almost hear her tiny voice say “But wait…what’s happening here? Are you leaving me?!?” When I ask the groomer how Josephine behaved, they always tell me how lovely she is. “Schnauzers have a reputation for not being nice during grooming.” This has been said to me more than once. The best thing about picking Josephine up from the groomer’s is when they bring her out and she sees me. Then she tries to frantically run to me, but can’t gain any traction on the tile floor and she just ends up running in place like a cartoon character until I get to her. Then she throws her tiny body at me, jumping up and down as if begging to be picked up.

This is really not much different from how she greets me at the end of every work day. No one in my life is as happy, excited and elated to see me as Josephine is. It might be true that she is always happy and excited to meet a new friend, but all that joy and excitement is multiplied tenfold when she sees me. If I leave her with Michael for a weekend, she mopes around the house until I’m home, sleeping in my bed all by herself. She intently listens for the sound of my car and will be waiting right on the other side of the door when I get home. The minute the door is opened, she attacks me with love.

I am so grateful to have this little dog in our lives. Josephine encompases everything I could ever ask for in a dog. She’s sweet and smart. She’s silly and sometimes naughty, but not too naughty. She’s hilarious and she’s a cuddler. She loves me with not just her whole heart, but with her whole being. I hope she knows that I feel the same way.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’ve been working on something that I don’t want to talk about because I am always working on something I don’t want to talk about. One of the things I wrote in this something I’m working on was the how and why I started a weekly gratitude post. I was still reeling from the loss of J, but even more so, I was grieving the loss of how my family was before J’s death. I had transitioned into a job that I did not enjoy doing, making science not as fun as it used to be. Then Chris and I moved in with his mom, which took away my sense of privacy and personal space. I was unhappy and I was vocal about my unhappiness in a way that I am ashamed of today. The gratitude list was a way for me to change my attitude and save my relationship with Chris because, as he pointed out, this current life may not be ideal, but we still had each other.

Oof.

Everyday, I would write something that I was grateful for in that moment and at the end of every week, I would post this list on the blog. I would keep it in list format. There were some Friday’s when the list would be short, just four or five things, but often, the list would be long. The list was simple, containing things like a bowl of fresh black-eyed-peas or the ten minutes of quiet before students showed up for yoga class. The beginnings of Thankful Friday was far from what it has become today. For one thing, the blog was still Elephant Soap. I’ve (hopefully) matured since the days of Elephant Soap. I am for sure a different girl since the days of Elephant Soap. And I don’t know, but I would like to think my little gratitude project helped to shape me into the person I am today. More than anything, I want to believe that early simple list of gratitude made me a better partner to Chris at that time.

Sometimes, when I am having a week that is particularly difficult, I have a tendency to start writing about all of my complaints. It’s whining really, about things like the weather being too cold to walk the dog or fighting off the urge to hibernate. I will probably write a good paragraph of complaining before I stop myself and delete all of it because I will remember the days of the simple list. I have to pause and take a breath before asking myself “what is my intention for writing this post?” I’m not saying that my complaints do not have some validity or that I’m trying to paint over them and give someone the idea that I’m always happy, well adjusted and good. Because those of you who really know me know that is not true. The title of this post is Thankful Friday and has been since 2008. The intention is gratitude and whining is not part of being grateful.

This week, I am grateful for:

• mushroom tacos

• Christmas lights

• Pilates time with my friend Heather

• Twenty minute savasana

• bandaids

• Michael doing the cooking

• dog snuggles

• keeping things simple

• remembering my intention

Sometimes, we need simplicity.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Hanukkah snuck up on me this year. I wasn’t prepared for it to start so early and there was even a very tiny discussion about skipping it. The menorah never makes it into a designated place at the end of the season. Instead, I manage to place it somewhere near the Christmas decorations in the basement. One year, I lost it all together and had to buy a new one. It was a year when we travelled around Oklahoma and because it was still Hanukkah, we took the menorah with us to light each evening. I have a feeling that menorah got lost somewhere between Oklahoma City and Tulsa.

On Saturday, I bought a new pack of candles and then went to the basement in search of our menorah. After digging through two boxes of Christmas stuff, I triumphantly emerged with our menorah and set it in its usual spot on the bookcase. I guess somewhere between the discussion of not participating in Hanukkah and getting things ready for Thanksgiving, I made the decision to put in the effort for Hanukkah. On the first night, as Michael lit the candles, I recited the prayers and just like I do every year, I got choked up on the last prayer.

Blessed are You, Lord our G‑d, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.

It is easy to forget throughout the year the importance of taking the tiniest of moments to acknowledge and be grateful for just surviving the day. Despite all the odds, you are still alive and breathing. Each night as we light the menorah candles and recite the prayers, I feel more and more grounded in the moment. As I mindfully say each word of the prayer, I feel a weight lift from my body and I savor the moment of peace that settles into the place of that lifted weight.

This year has not been an easy one, emotionally or physically. This has been true for many of us, but we are here. We are living and we are surviving. No matter how one chooses to do so, all of that is worth celebrating.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’m sitting on my couch (the new one!), watching the pre-parade line up on TV, trying to type up a gratitude post on Thanksgiving Day. Doesn’t seem like a difficult task and really…it isn’t. Today’s post is a very simple one. Today I am grateful for being able to safely gather with friends and family. I am thankful for new friends made this year. I am thankful for a bountiful table surrounded by love and laughter.

But I am also taking a moment to feel grief. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade was always a tradition of my childhood. Watching that parade now instantly transports me back to my childhood home. I’m sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace and Dad is sitting in his beloved recliner with the day’s newspaper spread out on his lap. He’s not even reading it. Instead, the two of us are running commentary on the parade. Occasionally, Mom would yell at one of us from the kitchen to get up and do some chore. The job of the person who was spared from the chore was to yell out the float, balloon or band that was currently on the screen. You dropped whatever it was that you were doing if someone yelled out “You gotta see this one! Hurry, hurry, hurry!”. I can’t watch that parade today without missing that fireplace and the warmth of the fire Dad kept going.

I can’t watch that parade today without missing my Dad.

The holiday season is bittersweet. I am thankful for the bitter parts and the sweet parts.

I’m also really thankful for the new couch.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

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

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

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

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

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

THANKFUL FRIDAY

For the longest time, I’m talking like for way too long of time, I thought it was “Fall forward and Spring back.” I was a pretend grownup before anyone corrected me on this, that it is actually “Fall back, Spring forward”. Falling forward made perfect sense to me. When people lock their knees while standing, they tend fall flat on their faces, meaning they fall forward. Springs can go whatever direction. Why not backwards? I also come from a line of clumsy people who did and do not fall down stairs as often as they tend to fall up stairs. We trip on the way up a flight of steps, thus falling forward in the process. So you can see that falling forward and springing back in time makes perfect sense.

I have a love/hate relationship with the concept of Daylight Savings. I understand that the whole idea behind it was to align hours of awake time to hours of actual daylight. The thing is, I’m up at 5:15 every morning and after a thirty minute online exercise class, I’m walking the dog a little before 6:00 AM. For a while now, the daylight hours have been nonexistent at these times. In fact it is not until I am back from the walk, showered and headed to work before the sun starts making an appearance. Yes, walking the dog in the dark kind of sucked. Opening the chicken coop while it was still dark was sad because the chickens just stayed in bed, but I’d get home and there would be light. I’d make dinner and there would still be light. I’d do another task and it would still be light. The thing is, I would be motivated to do things when I got home.

This week my motivation has been just to make it home. The end.

Daylight Savings time has never been much of a problem for me, but this year it seems that my body is reacting a little differently. I now wake up at 4:00 AM. I still go to bed at the same time, but I’m losing an hour of sleep. My house is filthy by my standards and every evening I thought I would do one thing to lessen the filth. I have six houseplant pots and only one of them contains a healthy green living plant. All the other planters hold dirt and death and that’s a bit depressing. Every night this week, I’ve told myself to get up and start dumping out the dead. Every night this week, by the time dinner has been made and consumed, I’ve ended up doing nothing. I’m tired. I decided to take the whole day off today so that I could do those things that I’ve been too tired to do while waiting for the new couch to arrive. One of the things on the to do list is to take a nap.

But despite being tired, I have to admit that it has been really lovely watching the sunrise every morning this week while walking Josephine. Our walks start out less dark and end with a spectacular display of light and color. When I walk out to open the chicken coop, I can hear the chickens stirring and then I see them cautiously hop out to greet the new day. I know that with winter comes less and less daylight and I am reminded to soak up as much light as I can now while I can. That means dragging this body out of bed for morning dog walks.

I’m grateful for the light.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

This week, I went to see a movie in a movie theater. It was the first time I’d been to a theater since December of 2019 and it was a lovely experience. Bittersweet and lovely. There was a time in my life where going to the movies was a weekly event. The theater in the small town where I grew up would play the same movie for two weeks and every Tuesday was dollar movie night. I went every Tuesday even if I had already seen the movie because that’s just what you did. This was one of the weekly social events like roller rink Thursdays and church on Wednesdays.

My first and only date with Chris took place at the drive-in movie theater in Chickasha. From that moment on, my movie going experience shifted from social event to interdisciplinary study. It was for entertainment and part of that entertainment was the study and discussion of the film being viewed. We dissected movies. Took apart scenes. Picked at the dialogue. There were multiple viewings of some movies and some movies that were so terrible that we wanted to walk out on. We never walked out because even the worst movies had discussion value for later. Going to the movie theater was an important part of that experience. We arrived early in order to pick the most advantageous seat. The previews were noted and whispered about. We stayed until the very end to watch all of the ending credits. All of this was not a special event, but a normal part our weekly lives.

My life is different now.

I thought I could wait for the new Wes Anderson film, The French Dispatch, to make its way to a streaming service, but the more I thought about it, I realized that I needed to see this movie right now. So I dragged my friend Heather to theater with me. Really, I didn’t have to drag her. She was a willing participant and even provided the giant purse for our Trader Joe’s snacks. As we settled into our seats and Heather stealthily handed over snacks, I found myself getting wiggly with excitement. The ‘Let’s Go To the Movies’ song from Annie started playing in my head and I had to restrain myself from clutching Heather’s sleeve and exclaiming “WE’RE IN A MOVIE THEATER!” The trailers for the upcoming movies came on and one of them made me cry because I knew with my whole heart that if my life wasn’t different that movie would be the next one we’d be seeing in the theater and we’d see it many times. Then the movie started and I was inside the world of Wes Anderson and wondering what it would take to be part of one his worlds just for a minute.

Sure, going to the movies in the middle of the week kept me up past my bedtime, but it was one hundred percent worth it. For two and half hours, nothing else existed. There was no pandemic. There no thinking about couches or scooters. There was no pause button. My only task was to sit in the dark and absorb the words with visual aids. I had forgotten all about the joy and bliss of sitting in a theater. I had forgotten all about the thrill and excitement of seeing previews for things to come. Even now, I marvel at how quickly all of those feeling rushed back into my soul. I’m grateful to have the kind of friend who is into this kind of movie enough to go with me to the theater. I am grateful for those two and half hours of joy and bliss.

I am also grateful to have had a moment of something familiar from my life before.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’m not going to sit back and sugar coat a gratitude post for you today. This week has been mentally taxing and physically challenging. My body did not react well to that antibiotic I was taking for the whole gross cyst thing and I ended up covered in a rash and at the walk in clinic on Monday. At the walk in clinic, yet another sixteen year old boy calling himself a doctor looked at my rash and prescribed an extra strong antihistamine. I went to bed at 8:30 Monday night thanks to the new drug. A new set of harder exercises were added to my physical therapy routine and at my follow up exam with the bone and joint doctor, the doctor just told me to watch out for buckling in my knee. I’m ready to move forward and go scooter shopping, but every day this week someone at work has come up to me to express how sorry they were to hear about V. Also, I think we might be couch shopping again because a new email about our couch arrived with a new estimated delivery date of February of next year. By Thursday afternoon, I was feeling really cranky, which I’ll take right now because it’s better than feeling nothing at all.

Which was where I’ve been leaning ever since camp.

A series of minor illnesses has accumulated into a massive feeling of general unwellness that has left me contemplating cleansing diets and acupuncture, drinking more juice, eating more mushrooms. Falling for a fad, which is when I know I’ve reached desperation mode. At the end of each day, I promise myself to do better, be better because I know I’m not doing my best, but just repeat the cycle the next day. I’ve filled a pool full of my own expectations and standards in which I am barely keeping my head above right now. I’m drowning in a pool of my own making and from what I have been hearing from those around me, I’m not the only one. I think many of us have been holding onto some great expectations that this time this year would be different from this time last year and it is, but it isn’t.

So, how do you find gratitude when all what you really want to do is hide inside a blanket fort?

No…really, how do you do that?

There is gratitude in the ability to confess that you are struggling. For me, admitting that I’m struggling makes me feel like I’m whining or feeling sorry for myself. It is a sign of weakness and not allowed for someone who has tattooed “Je suis forte” onto their wrist, but that tattoo is not a statement. It is a reminder to myself on days of weakness that I am strong. With that reminder comes the knowledge that I am only as strong as my support system and if my support team doesn’t know I’m struggling, they can’t support me. Yesterday, I was holding two slide books in which I had balanced ten slide holders and had picked up the heavy metal structure all of those things go into. Then I went to open the door to carry those things to my desk so I could start loading slides and I had no hands available to turn the door handle. A coworker was walking up behind me at this moment and then seeing the mess I’d put myself into, asked “Do you need help?” And I hesitated. For a moment I was really going to say “No thank you, I’ve got this.” Hands completely full and precariously balancing all of the things, I still thought for a moment that I would find a way to open the door with my foot. Instead, I came to my senses and asked him to please open the door for me. My first instinct for everything is “I’ve got this.” Slap on a smile. Fake it ‘till you make it, but you know what? Sometimes your hands are full and you just need someone to open a door for you. And you have to be willing to not just accept the help but to admit that you can’t do everything.

This might be a stretch for gratitude, but these are the days that demand reaching. It’s worth the stretch.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I was talking to a coworker friend the other day who had stayed home from work in order to take her dog to the vet for a bladder infection. She said "I just can’t take one more thing.” and I nodded with empathy. I get it. Things have been exceptionally difficult lately. It seems like Fall rolled in with an agenda to kill me. First it was my knee. Then the theft of lovely V. While at camp, I developed a large painful and gross cyst in an inappropriate place. Our camp nurse, Jenn, was concerned that it might be a spider bite. So she drove me to the ER in Rolla, MO. where two sixteen year old boys called “doctors” poked around on the cyst before sending me away with antibiotics. Now my left thumb hurts and I don’t even know what I did to it. Maybe I slept on it wrong? Last night, Michael noticed a rash forming on my back and now I’m worried I might have shingles because that’s where my brain goes.

This season has been a little dangerous and not in a fun dangerous kind of way.

Except, Fall doesn’t know that I’m made of stronger stuff. I’m killing it with my physical therapy exercises, working my way into having buns of steel because apparently strong glutes help with stable knees. Michael and I are planning a day trip to the Vespa dealership in St. Louis for some scooter shopping. I don’t care for the Vespa dealership in town. When I rode my scooter over with Michael to trade in his old one for a new one, one of the guys asked “So, is he going to let you ride on the back of his scooter?” To which I replied “Are you going to give me your commission on this sale, because he’s here because of me.” Then I ripped his face off (in my head). I’d rather not go back there. The cyst is gone and I’m practically back to normal. I took some ibuprofen this morning and my thumb no longer hurts. I’m not thinking about the rash for now and I’m not about to gloat or say something like “Bring it, Fall!”. Instead, I’m putting myself on high alert for what might be next. I mean, I’m not tentatively crouching around corners or anything. I am just acutely aware that I need to be paying extra attention to my surroundings and my actions. The thing is, we’re all struggling a bit right now and we could all benefit from some mindful cautious moving.

On our last evening at camp, we danced around a bonfire down by the river. The sky was clear and Michael pulled up his star finder app and discovered that all of the planets were aligned with each other. He went around showing everyone who would listen, which was basically everyone at this camp. Maybe this was the beginning of putting things back together. Maybe this was the start for mindfulness. I don’t know, but I am grateful for the reminder to carefully place one foot in front of the other. I am grateful for the reminder to be mindful that others are also struggling and to lead with an empathetic heart.