So here’s what I’m thankful for this week. I am thankful for the lulls because they remind me to savor the rush times. They remind me to take a breath and pay attention during the hustle and bustle. It’s also a great time of gearing up and charging batteries. I am thankful for that little buzz of excitement that starts to hum the closer I get to all the activities. All the planning that’s involved in this and that is just part of the fun.

I am thankful for the weather we’ve had this week. It’s allowed me to ride my scooter every day to work. The money I’ve saved on gas will pay for the gas for all my driving trips. I love this! I’m just thankful. That’s all.

Happy Weekend and Thankful Friday!

1. The weather. All week it’s been blue skies.
2. This picture I took at the City Market on Saturday.


3. Riding my scooter.
4. The look on my dogs face after getting a bath. I couldn’t get a picture, but it looked something like this.



5. Noticing that I still turn heads when I’m riding the scooter.
6. My yoga mat.
7. These granola bars I made. Damn! They’re good and I can’t give you the recipe because it’s basically adapted from another recipe and I made it up as I went along.
8. Getting to see and spend a tiny bit of time with the Jens.
9. Sunflowers in the vase on my kitchen table.



10. You.

Saturday, I went to a BBQ. I had agreed and RSVPd for the party weeks ago, but the closer it came to the day, the more my anxiety over attending began to build. And when Saturday did finally arrive, I almost just didn’t show up. I realized that this would be bad. First of all, you tell people you’ll be there and then don’t show, those people are going to worry. Secondly, it’s rude. So, I resisted the urge to lock myself in the closet and shoved the anxiety ball down to the bottom of my stomach. At least I wouldn’t be able to pig out with the anxiety ball taking up half my stomach space. I got in my car and gnawed off my lip while I drove out to the BBQ. I went.

I know you’re thinking “Cindy, it’s a party! It’s fun! There’s no anxiety in fun!”. Normally, I would say you’re right. In this case, I knew very few people there. I either had to be personable or sit in a corner like a wallflower. I had to interact and be sociable with people I didn’t know and people who didn’t know me. And this is where I get to part that created the most anxiety of all. I was the only single person there. It was a party of couples and families. I do not have either of these things and I’m not quite used to the idea that I don’t. It made me vulnerable. I used to think I was OK with being vulnerable. I had no problem with it. I was even good at being vulnerable. I was always saying the things floating around in my head no matter what and knowing all along how vulnerable this made me to people who may judge me. What will people think? I always shrugged that question aside. People are going to think what they think. I can’t do anything about that. It wasn’t until Chris’s death that I realized that maybe I didn’t know what being vulnerable really meant. All of those years where I thought I was allowing myself to be vulnerable? Those were just years of allowing myself to just not care. Because now, I’m pretty sure I have an idea of what it means to be vulnerable.

Vulnerable:
capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon
open to moral attack, criticism, temptation
(of a place) open to assault, difficult to defend

I am all of these things, but you know what made it worse? I am all of these things to myself. I am the one most likely to wound or hurt me. I am the one most likely to morally attack and criticize me. I am truly my own worse enemy. Losing Chris didn’t make me question the existence of God or if I was being cursed by a witch. It made me question myself. I went from being enough to not helping enough, not being sad enough, not being happy enough, not loving enough to just not enough. But you know what’s worse? What’s worse is that all of this made me vulnerable to myself and this was not a good feeling. I don’t like be naked and split open. I don’t like people seeing me sad or vulnerable.

But here’s the thing. Those definitions of vulnerable? I was all of those things before Chris’s death. We are all, all of those things all of the time. What makes now so different? Well, that’s simple. Chris is not here to be my back up or to support me. I put on a brave face, but it’s more for me and the non-living. I know Chris is still out there somewhere, keeping an eye out. I also know that the one thing he worried most about while he was dying was me. He worried that I wouldn’t be all right. It was something he voiced to me on a number of occasions and every time I would reassure him that I would be just fine. What? Was I supposed to tell a dying man the truth? Tell him that I would be completely lost without him? Tell him my heart will be broken into a tiny million pieces? I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let him go knowing that he left me helpless and incapable. I can’t be vulnerable now because I was too busy proving to Chris and myself that I could do this. I don’t have time for vulnerability because I’m too busy learning to live this life without him in it.

And that’s what I’m doing. I went to that BBQ. I sat with those couples and families. I laughed and joked and played with little kids. I ate a veggie burger and a really good cookie. I had a good time. But most importantly, I allowed myself to have a good time. Guilt free. So what if I’m a little bit more vulnerable without Chris around. That just means I have to be more brave. That just means I have to be ready for the attack. I like to think of it as Ninja training. I’m going to be one bad ass ninja someday.

One time, I was making a dress for a 4-H project and the sewing machine was acting all wonky. If I pressed on the foot pedal just a little, nothing would happen. If I pressed just a bit more, the sewing machine would take off and then keep going even though I’d pulled my foot off the pedal. It seemed like I was hollering “MOM!” every five minutes. She finally gave up and just laid on the floor in the sewing room while I worked. Occasionally she’d check my work and either declare it good or hand me the seam ripper. This is how it is with us. She’s either there supporting or handing me the tools to clean up the mess, but she always waits for me to ask.

So today, not just because Sunday is Mother’s Day, I am thankful for my mom. I am thankful that she understands that I am independent and stubborn about. But most of all, I’m thankful for those times when I recognize that I do need a little coddling, those times when I need my mommy, she is always there.

To all my moms out there, have a wonderful weekend. And to all of us, a very Thankful Friday.

To be honest, I had no idea where the post was headed until I typed that very last sentence. I thought it might be something about how much I love my dog, like those times he shakes his head and all his hair poofs out around his head like a lion. But then I read that last part about being focused on the spot where the bird used to be. How often does this happen? My mind wanders back to moments and images a lot these days. I hate that the last time I saw Chris, he was unrecognizable to me. Sometimes my brain puts that face in my head and I have to mentally erase it. I have to focus on the way Chris used to be before he got sick. Usually I’d turn that sentence into something about looking ahead, but for some reason today, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to focus on something the way it used to be. At least not in this case.

Because, did you notice what happened when Hooper turned his focus back to the fence? That little baby bird got away.

Happy Love Thursday!

Meanwhile, I keep going back to the old garden. It’s slowly becoming this wild bed of herbs, clover and wild strawberries. I love the crazy mess of it which surprises me because I usually prefer everything to be so tidy and ordered. My parsley has gotten so out of control, it’s flowering. I have lettuce and chard still coming up in the old garden. This is nice because it supplements what’s not coming up in the new garden. I’m really having a hard time adjusting to the idea of Spring. Spring in Oklahoma meant 90 degree temps and tornadoes. Spring here means 70s and 80s with the occasional 90 and tornado threat. Today’s high is 62. Last night I watched the weather man aim the camera to what was clearly a funnel cloud and then I heard him say “I’m not sure what we have here”. They have no idea what they’re doing here when it comes to those things. Any way, I hear my southern friends go on about squash and peppers and I get jealous cause I gots nothin’.

I’m not doing well with patience these days. Could be this is something I need to work on. Something else I need to work on: slug traps. The other evening I sat out in one of the camp chairs waiting for Hooper to do one last nightly patrol of the yard. And as I sat there, I watched a generously sized slug slowly make his way up the side of my raised bed garden and then disappear over the edge of the wall and down into my garden. I let him go, but made a mental note to set up some beer traps. Though to be honest, I’m slightly fascinated by the slugs. They’re HUGE and striped and I really hate the idea of killing them, but they’re eating my food. At least they’ll die drunk and not squirming in pain like that one I poured salt on last year. I will never do that again.

Early Saturday mornings, for so many people, are mornings to sleep in. Not for me. I may not sit about and watch cartoons any more, but I still get up early. It’s my favorite part of the day. It’s the quiet part of the day. I can get up early, stop by the local cafe for coffee and a bagel and see the city as it begins to rub the sleep crumbs from its eyes. I share these mornings with runners and elderly couples. As I drive down Main street to the farmer’s market, the homeless begin to make their way to their day spots. There’s the man that talks to himself and points at cars as he illegally crosses the street. There’s the lady with the big hat walking her cat on a leash. And sometimes, on occasion, you can see a man pushing a baby stroller of puppies. There’s just so much someone could miss while sleeping in.

Now Sundays on the other hand, Sundays are the leisure days. Particularly the rainy ones.

Wednesday, I bought some of that Technu stuff my sister told me to get and started scrubbing myself with it every time I started to get itchy. That night I slept straight through. Didn’t get up once. And the next day, I noticed that I didn’t need to scrub my arms as much. The patch on my elbow doesn’t even look bubbly any more. It’s still itchy, but manageable itchy. I no longer feel the need to peel my skin off my body.

These are the things I’m thankful for this week. I’m thankful for finally having some will power to keep a routine going. I’m thankful for some relief from the itchy poison ivy. I’m thankful for the rest I’ve been able to get. I am thankful for a successful week. And here’s to a successful weekend.

Happy Thankful Friday!

A few weeks ago I was back at the City Market, this time with my brother and sister-in-law and there was my plant. I bought it immediately. Isn’t it lovely? It’s called a Chenille plant, at least that’s the technical term. I like to call it my Cheeto plant. I feel this is a more appropriate name. And it’s just gotten more lovely each day.