Kindness

Today I want to give credit where it is due- to my readers. Thanks for hanging in with me for these last four or five years. I was digging through old blog posts, trying to find a particular one- more on that in a minute- and it made me think about who reads this and just what the hell we all get out of the experience.

Hopefully, I'm showing a bit of my world. This morning, I'm in my heavy red bathrobe, sipping hot coffee and trying to come to life before I go do my weightlifting. I'm in the office portion of the house. The office is part of my dressing room, on the second floor, with no door and just my old dresser and a rack for hanging clothes. And make up, and hair stuff, and a mirror, and a rocking chair that my sister Patti gave me. The heater is on because it's 27 degrees outside. However, it's predicted to get up to about 60 today. First time we've seen 60 since October. If you've read my blog even once, you'll know that I'm not excited about Spring. Oh, it's a lovely season and it's neat to see the world wake up from a long slumber. Except that we didn't have any slumber this year. I'd say we had less than 3 inches of snow in total for the entire year. You might imagine that as someone whose favorite necklace is a snowflake pendant, I want more. We've even gone to visit snow in the mountains. The ski areas up here have had very few operational days, and ski tourism is out all over the state and in Idaho. Boo. *sips coffee*

Back to the world. Our old house is from the turn of the century, around 1900. The owners put in modern carpet and put in new drywall. The original doors are still up and the weird nooks and crannies that go with the architecture of a peaked roof are naturally still in place. Our bedroom has angled ceilings that slope such that we have few places where we can strategically place the bed without banging our heads every time we go to sleep. I love it. The only thing I don't love is the tiny kitchen. We have the upstairs and half of the down. The other half is walled off- along with (probably) the other half of the kitchen! The owners use their half of the bottom as an office. I think besides the drafts in the winter- you can stick fingers through the sliding windows- these are the only downside of the house. It's wonderfully located and the owners are quiet, only showing up a few days a week and never early. With a Starbucks, a pizza place, and a grocery store within 200 meters of the front door and an easy mile walk to work, I couldn't imagine a better place for us for now.

I get up earlier these days, 5, 5:30, 6 ish. Going to bed between 8 and 9 is better for me, even if it's not more fun. I'm more productive in the mornings. I get to go work out if I get up in time, and since I do most of my grading online, I can knock some of it out in the mornings. I like to have a little time alone too, to think and write and read. I do love reading for pleasure. Most of my life follows a routine: wake up, get around, work, teach, work, teach, teach, teach, volunteer hours, grading, home, dinner, sleep. I get the workouts in where I can. I often get a yoga class in once a week, though I try for twice.  Since G and I both work so much, we eat lunch as our big meal and usually just have something light for dinner. On the weekends, it's travel.

My life seems to be missing something, and indeed it is.  I miss my little kitty, Eleanor. I miss her about as much as I thought I would. Her presence was pervasive in my life for almost 19 years. I must have burst into tears a dozen times the first day she was gone. And the second day. On the third day it was less. Now the rawness is gone, but I feel as though I am missing something or someone important, like a low-grade fever. You can ignore it for awhile but eventually you have to get some rest. On Saturday the vet called to say her ashes were back. I hope by saying that here, I get up the guts to go get her.  Nobody has said to me: Eleanor was just a cat. Because DUH, I know that. Nobody has said "get over it". That might be because nobody would say such a thing to my face or even online.

Everyone has been kind. Like really kind. My veterinarian's office sent me a handwritten card. My in-laws sent me flowers and a sweet note. My former student came by with hugs and flowers too. It's just too much to list how many nice things people have said- in text message, Facebook messages, phone calls, and notes.

Thank you. So, so much. When we figure out how and where we will be, G and I will adopt another rescue pet. The Nevada SPCA is where Eleanor came from. I think shelter animals are often the best kind.

Now, if you're still reading this, I'm hoping you can help me out. GR asked a question about a blog where I talk about hunting, and a friend of mine who hunts, and how I reconciled his philosophy with my own. I can't find the damn thing anywhere. I looked at every post between the first one and the time I met G. Zilch. If you run across it, can you alert me in the comments or email me? That would be awesome. Thanks!

My quarter at school is coming to a close. Two more weeks, then a week of relaxation. Ok, planning. Then I'm teaching 4 classes. Two is considered a full load for tenured faculty; three for non tenured.  It's going to be busy. I'm looking forward to it though. I was invited to teach an honors course in academic research; just up my alley. I'm not sure how I'm going to pull this off and retain my sanity. I love to be busy, like really busy.  But my days are already full and I'm not willing to give up sleep or gym time. Sometimes I feel like a juggler with too many balls in the air; every week, some ball will get dropped and I will have to remember to be kind to myself about the whole mess. I will make it through, probably laughing with all the new stuff I learn from students. They think I'm the teacher. Little do they know they are the reason I'm here.

Have a good weekend.

Winter Wanes

Eleanor says she's doing just fine, thanks. 

     After our return from the fabulous-ness that is London and Paris, we settled in for the new quarter. In the dead of winter, the sun doesn't rise so early- as late as 7:45 a.m. It goes down early too- 4:30. If you're not careful, it's easy to live in total darkness for about three months of the year- late October through late January. Lots of people suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) for this reason. Imagine this compounded with all the rain in Seattle. We live in a relatively dry area, so the rain doesn't factor in much- but still. Beginning in October, I start reminding my students to remain active and to get some sun on their faces at least fifteen minutes a day. This ensures that their bodies will be able to make enough vitamin D and that psychologically, the smaller amount of daylight isn't as impactful as it could be. I follow that rule too. Is that my job as an English professor? No. Not technically. But I also warn them against coming to class if they are infectious with any weird (or normal) illness and to buckle up when they drive. Yes, I'm your Aunt English Professor. When you live this far north, SAD risk factors are just a fact of life. For those of you sun lovers, you should know that it stays light until 9:30-10 p.m. and the sun comes up at 4-4:30.

     I remembered pretty quickly my strategies from years ago, before I moved to Oklahoma, how to live in a dimly lit place. Judge me all you like, but I love winter and shortened daylight hours is one of the reasons. I get up early these days, between 4:30 and 6, and when I don't have to be at work before 9 a.m., I go to the gym in the mornings. If I don't get there early, I have something to look forward to in the afternoon or early evening. My days are mostly the same; meetings, teaching, answering frantic emails, and grading. Grading takes up a lot of psychic space for me. I have 77 students this quarter and each deserves time and attention. Writing is serious business and can be a huge part of their success in college. I volunteer to teach the beginning writing courses and I do enjoy it. I like knowing that because someone helped a student learn to read and write better- to more critically examine the materials presented to them- they have a better chance of graduating with a degree that means something to them. As a matter of fact, while I'm writing this, I simultaneously have a tab open to grade a homework assignment. In any case, I try to do these things in the morning while I feel energized.

     That's because once it gets dark, I lose my motivation to do...anything. My preferred evening activities are reading on the couch with G on one side and Eleanor on the other, or watching television in the same configuration.  And I'm in bed between 8 and 9. This is also why I love winter: I feel ok just resting. I'm *supposed* to hibernate. I have four favorite jammie bottoms made of soft cotton or flannel, with snowman and snowflake patterns. I just love to put them on and stay home. This is also my favorite strategy for avoiding SAD. You know, because Happy! See? Longer nights means more snuggle time.

     My annual routine for work follows the quarter system now. For the fall quarter, I'm very enthusiastic; I join committees and do research, plot out my lessons for weeks and months in advance, and make sure that I have at least one class of freshmen to welcome on their first day of college. In winter it's more of a settle in and run the race. Slow and steady. It's about routine, getting things done and meeting commitments. This is also when I work out any new materials for classes and invent something for spring quarter. Spring quarter is the hardest. Students and faculty get all squirrely. I don't blame them. March is a difficult month for me and by April with the advent of spring, everyone wants to go outside, feel the sun, go hiking and spring skiing, and relish the warmer weather.  Students mentally check out somewhere in April, and by mid-June when we wrap up, ugh, I'm ready for them to go. No new creative projects really happen for me in spring.

     I think I may be one of only two people who mourns the loss of winter. I think we had our last snow for the year last week.  All of the weather reports are in the 50s this next week. We didn't have any real accumulation this year! If I want to see real snow I have to drive up to the mountain passes. The other person who mourns is, of course, my husband. There's something exciting to waking up to a heavy blanket of snow, or a blizzard, and having to bundle up to go outside. Since we both walk to work, we get to tromp through small drifts and place our feet carefully lest we slip on a patch of wayward ice. This is also how I get my sunlight time every day. G works earlier than I do; he has to be in by 8.  When the sun is sleeping in and going to bed early, he risks never seeing it. So he sits and has lunch by a big picture window where I often join him. It's also a great place to watch the weather outside. Last week, my mother-in-law posted a photo of her trimming a rosebush. In Louisiana, it's in the 60s and 70s right now. The same day, I took a photo of our last snow, hoping it would stick around at least a little while. To tell the truth, though, I think today I'd like to see a little sun. Maybe it is time to think once again about the earth waking up and shooting up a few daffodils and snowdrops.

     With less snow and precipitation this year, that means there is less snow pack to melt off slowly during spring and summer. We're running the risk of another terrible summer fire season. Man, I hate to think of a worse fire season than what we had last year- it was the worst on record in Washington state. The first two summers I was in Ellensburg, I had to stay indoors and take real precautions because of the smoke. It's super bad for my lungs and the first year I caught bronchitis from walking outdoors. Fortunately, this last round with it went away really quickly and I'm back at my usual activity level.

    Oh! I almost forgot: My New Years Resolutions.  I have made a grand effort to be more social this last month. We invited friends over to the house one Friday, invited other friends to watch the ill-fated Superbowl, AND we met another friend out at a restaurant. All in January.  Am I done for the year? As far as my health is concerned, I had some luck last month with my running.  I made five miles in less than an hour- twice. So a pace of 11:15. Not fantastic, and not terrible. I'm happy with it. I also did my mile in ten minutes a couple of times.  I have to do all my running indoors now, and I've added in weights and yoga twice weekly. It's running and walking that really help to clear my head. That's also my best strategy for beating off any winter blues which may come to call. Ok, that and Nutella. If you've never had Nutella, it's a hazelnut-chocolate spread. One of my friends calls it a jar of candy. I say it's not. It's quasi-healthy frosting. Maybe not the best stuff to eat before attending my sister-in-law's wedding in March (can't wait!) but it sure is delicious.

Sigh- so much sun

It's raining through the sunshine

Not sure what's going on with my face. Look at the handsome guy instead, k?

Little bit O'snow 

Our campus has an awesome diversity office!

Don't think I'll ever get tired of this view

See? I had people at my house!

My Seahawks lost! Boo! There's always next year.

How is this winter?!

Barge Hall- the first and original building on campus

Five thirty on a foggy morning

Eleanor

Onward

This has been an interesting couple of weeks.

It's been like the weather; a dump of snow, then a melt, then a bunch of sunny days and back to winter.

I love the view from the English department

There is something about Ponderosa Pine trees in the snow

I'm not so good at the phone phocus

Mmmm, winter!

This is my new "I Love Winter" necklace. 

Before Christmas, G went to the doctor because his voice was cutting out. He was snoring so loud I could hear him from downstairs. Sometimes, it felt like something was stuck in his throat.

When I say "he went to the doctor", I mean that he doesn't really do that unless he feels it's necessary. But he went. She sent him to a specialist, an otolaryngologist. He took a look; stuck a doohickey (sorry for the technical term) down his nose and took a peek. Said "that needs to come out."

Wait, what? What needs to come out? Huh?

Some sort of growth. A burst polyp.  You can get polyps in lots of place on your body. Colon, nose, throat, places like that. This one nestled on top of Gs vocal chords.

The Oto said this needs to come out now; G said "Let's wait until after Christmas".  He scheduled the surgery for the second week of January.

While Christmas was fun and traveling is exciting, I had a low-level worry the whole time. Like when you know there's a sliver stuck in your toe or something. Can't do anything about it but you always know it's there and try not to worry.

The surgery was really efficient. We arrived at the outpatient surgery center at 7; we left at 10. G had never had a surgery before. He said the hardest part was getting the IV put in. That man. The doctor told me that the polyp was larger than he thought and that in a week we'd know if it was malignant of benign.

Anyway, thus began three days of no talking and another week of low-level worry. I tried to teach him a little bit of sign language but G figured that I'm good at context clues and lip reading and that for the rest he could trace letters in the air or text me.  Sometimes this was hilarious and effective. Sometimes this was hilarious and frustrating.  Sometimes I just made up stuff he would never say, like "Don't you think it's time we bought a farm in the country", and "Seriously, can you make me a well-done steak?"

He lived. He ate popsicles.  He had to stay home for those three days and while I was at work, on the first damn day, he drove himself to McDonalds and wrote a note for a caramel frappe.  What the ham sandwich?!!

I went to his boss and explained that while he could be at work Thursday and Friday of last week, he couldn't talk. It wasn't a problem. When he went back to work, G reports that he used an entire pack of post-it notes answering questions.  They were not yes or not questions, apparently. And his boss doesn't exactly use email.

So on Dr. King's birthday (which I usually write about but this year I suck), we went back for the test results.

Benign.

But then the sun came out and it was 51 degrees.

<3 nbsp="" td="">

Confession: I don't have a "low" level setting for worrying. It's sort of my hobby and preoccupation. I like to pretend that I don't worry about things. However, once I set my mind to it, I can worry about just about anything.

Like Eleanor, the sweetest kitty and my best little friend of 18 years, who does have cancer.

I have a full blood panel done on her every 6 months. In May, all was clear. In November, it showed on the CBC.

I am sorry, readers. I just didn't know how to tell you.

She's doing ok, really. Doesn't eat very much. throws up more often. I give her medicine to stimulate her appetite and suppress the vomiting, though it will shorten her lifespan. This could take months or a year or just a few weeks.

When we went to Europe, she stayed with my friend Joy. Joy asked if I wanted to know during the trip if Eleanor died. Yes. Yes, of course I wanted to know that very instant. G was not in favor of this. But no, I couldn't have gone a day without worrying that this day it had happened and I didn't know.  It would have ruined the trip for me.  So Joy promised to tell me and sent me picture after picture of Eleanor, with her daughter, with her, eating, and sleeping on her heating pad. Yes, I sent the heating pad and that wonderful and afghan along to comfort her.  And I set up with my vet that if she needed any kitty health care, she would have it.

This is an exercise in not worrying for me. I don't know the source of the cancer and I'm not going to. I don't want to put her through a bunch of tests. It's not like she is healthy enough for them to remove a growth or even put her under anesthetic. And when the time comes, I'm going to see if the vet will come to the house to help her through those final, awful hours rather than taking her out of the comfort of home.

Until then, I am awakened every morning to what I term "aggressive snuggling".  Eleanor still gets around well and can navigate the stairs.  She sleeps on the bed and wakes me up by purring, then laying on the pillow with me and napping a bit.  Then she puts her face by mine.  Then I pet her. Then she nudges me with her head until I either keep petting her or get up to give her food and/or water. Personally, I think she's using cancer to get into more mischief and get away with it.  Now she'll sit beside me in the kitchen and head butt me until I feed her. She used to get squirted with water if she was a pest. Now I just can't. And somehow, she.knows.it.

I'm going to need you to feed me some tuna. By hand.

G is not buying it. Yes, he adores Eleanor. Yes, he will pet her all day and clean up vomit and make a run to the grocery store for me to get cans of the particular food that she's into (while ignoring the 90 other flavors in the pantry).  But when she's bad, she still gets a little squirt of water. I know this because when I told him about her condition, I proclaimed announced that from here on out, she wouldn't ever get into trouble again, he may have quietly chuffed. I didn't hear that part because emotions. But last week, I was petting the sweetest kitty in the world and telling her how awesome she is, and noticed her fur was wet. "Did you give Eleanor a drink?"
"In a sense."
"...?"
"She scratched on the bathroom door. She got squirted."
"But.....cancer!"
"She's well enough to be a bad cat; she's well enough to pay the consequences."
Heh.

But I'm still going to worry.

Random 5 Friday

My bloggy buddy Nonnie (introduced by my fabulous MIL) inspired me today with her Random 5 Friday blog. I'll do one for you too.  For rules on the Random 5, go here.

1. Today is the day Eleanor goes to the vet for her check up.  I'm excited because I think her bloodwork will come back wonderfully.  She feels better! Her appetite is good and she's much more snuggly than she was.  I bet that's also because it's cooler outside.

2. I love that it's cooler, but I can't drink pumpkin spice lattes and it's killing me. No places serve almond milk or rice milk in their lattes- it's all milk or soy.  I'm allergic to milk and soy.  So I tried pumpkin spice tea from Stash. It tastes like warm water and cinnamon. Blech.

3.  I've been working out in the early mornings lately.  I....like it. Let me just say that I am NOT a morning person, but it's nice to get up at 5:45, snuggle with the little kitty, make some coffee and have a cup with my husband before I hit the gym at 6:30.  It was 40 degrees yesterday morning but 48 this morning with sunshine.

4. I had the opportunity to give a presentation on conflict management this week to an incoming group of freshman leaders.  The retreat was way up on White Pass, past Yakima and following the great Naches river.  The workshop went well with facepainting, discussions, group work and skits.  The drive was even more impressive.

5.  My brother in law, B, helps with a race car team.  I'm not sure if it's stock car or sprint car or what, but he's been on the pit crew for a number of years.  Besides his family and fishing, I think this is his passion.  The driver grew up around their little town and B believes in him and wants those dreams to come true.  And as it happens, there is a race in Yakima tonight and tomorrow. G and I are going to go support them and watch the shows.  Have I ever been to a car race? I don't think so. I'm not even sure what kind of cars are in Nascar or the Indie 500 or what horserace is popular this decade.  BUT it will probably be fun and my nephew, who turned 13 this week, will be there too.

Have a great weekend!

The New Normal

I love this front porch

Home is starting to feel like home again.  I wake up and know where I am. This is a good thing, since I usually am awakened between midnight and 3 a.m. by a thirsty little kitty who just can't wait for me to go down the stairs, lift her up to the sink and turn on the water for her because she doesn't like the water in her water bowl.  Seriously.  Four times a day and sometimes in the middle of the night if she can get me to get up.  I really don't mind.  OK, I guess I mind a little more now that I don't have a master bedroom with a bathroom attached to it.  Ah well. It is a little more chilly lately too, sometimes dipping into freezing overnight.  We have wall heaters and most of them don't have a temperature gauge, so we usually turn them off when we are not in the room.  Only the downstairs kitchen and living room have temperature gauges. 

So there I am, half naked and pulled from my warm bed and sleeping husband to creep down the creaky, rickety staircase in my bare feet. Eleanor leads, stopping halfway down the staircase to check on me and meow if I haven't made sufficient progress.  Once I hit the linoleum in the kitchen my toes curl and I turn on the light in the bathroom, give Eleanor her water and lean against the wall by the heater for five to then minutes while fuzz for brains gets her drink.  She sometimes stops in the middle to contemplate running water and the meaning of life.  I sigh deeply.  I'm glad she is still around to bother me in the middle of the night.  This idiosyncrasy is a small part of the price I pay for the privilege of an aging, ancient feline friend.  On the upside, I carry her upstairs and we snuggle back into bed and everything is right in the world.  The other night, I was trying to get to sleep and El kept trying to get me to snuggle.  Grey said "do I hear purring from under the covers?"
"No."
*pause*
"OK, I'm lying."
Damn cat always gets her way.

Like I said, good thing that home is starting to feel like home again. 

The kitchen looks like a kitchen now

I'm getting used to the morning commute as well. I have thankfully traded my car for a walk.  I live on 5th Avenue. and the university is located between 8th and 11th streets.  My office is closer to 11th street.  It's about a 15 minute walk.  For this purpose, and keeping in mind that the temperatures will only continue to cool, I have some interesting challenges.  The biggest is wardrobe and footwear.  Apparently, I will need something called "Yaktrax" to help me keep traction on the snow/ice. They are little thingies that slip over your shoes so that you won't slip.  Since it's getting chillier, I can't wear all those pretty summer dresses, but I have a woeful amount of sweaters and had brought no actual coats with me from Oklahoma.  That last part was an oversight on my part- I wasn't paying attention when we loaded up the Uhaul. So far, I have acquired a couple of sweaters, a jacket and a winter coat.  Next, I think I will go look for some corduroy-type trousers.  I can't just wear jeans every day that it's cold (like I am today).  I would feel like a total bum. However, there is no way I am wearing skirts or dresses when it's under 40 degrees during the day.  If it's up above that- no problem.  Grey and I even scouted around and got me a little ceramic heater for my office.  It's lovely and warm and makes me a little sleepy at work.

..and my hair looks like hair again.

My hair has been crazy lately.  Moving from a really humid environment to a really dry one has wrought havoc on my hair. I have been alternately frizzy, fuzzy and limp-headed.  I'm frizzy if I blow dry my hair, fuzzy if I leave it to dry naturally and limp-headed if I put in the serum my hair stylist recommended I start using.  It's good stuff, but it's a heavy oil that is hard to wash out.  My color-treatment shampoo doesn't do a good job of getting the serum out so I get all limp-haired on day two after washing. After a month of struggling, I figured out that once a week, I have to deeply condition my hair.  The other days I can just use cheap old Pantene for color treated hair and I'm back to being golden again.  I just want predictable hair days again. 

Also, I am not sure if everyone does this, but I tend to cut my hair off in the fall and grow it the rest of the year.  Something about the advent of school that makes me want to do new and cool things.  So it's just trims for the next year, and then we'll see.  I do love it short, but I love even more the things I can do with longer hair.

Highline Community College in Kent

It was supposed to rain last Saturday....and it almost did.  I had to go to a conference on the West side, in Kent.  Kent is on the Puget Sound and the college there overlooks the water.  Pretty swanky, but with an interesting and highly diverse student population.  Good conference too.  It rained all day, which I loved but which my hair did not, and the rain followed us as we drove over Snoqualmie Pass.  I thought it might be raining in Ellensburg too, but it died off abruptly five minutes before we hit town.  And it stayed like that; ominous clouds, the smell of dampness and humidity hanging in the air, and tantalizing breezes filled with the promise of cloudbursts.  Finally, yesterday afternoon, the rain began to fall and we enjoyed an afternoon and evening of mild euphoria while the world was turned wet. 

Eleanor has lately been on a kick where she insists she is an indoor/outdoor cat.  This is a little perplexing since she has never been an indoor/outdoor cat. At. All. But when I go by the door, she will sit and meow, sometimes stretching up towards the handle.  Grey sometimes will take pity on her and let her outside with him while he reads on the porch.  But she can't handle staying in his lap and always tries to get away so she can roam free and be "feral". The idea of Eleanor being feral is just as ridiculous as expecting a full-grown mountain lion to politely wake me up at 3 a.m. for a drink of water and to use a covered litter box. Ain't happening.  Anyway, to make a long story short, he wouldn't let her go and she hissed at him.  That was the end of Grey's benevolence.

Yay for RAIN!

Since it was raining, I decided to let Eleanor go outside.  I swung wide the door and pronounced her free. Go, kitty! Explore nature! Catch your own dinner! Her ebullience quickly melted to reluctance as she realized the entire out-of-doors was wet.  Eleanor doesn't "do" wet.  Or snow. Or really anything but sunshine and rainbows.  She stood on the threshold.  Grey gently used his toes to urge her forward.  Suddenly, Eleanor spun and raced back in the house, took a corner at 90 miles and hour and disappeared upstairs to hide from the imperfections of nature.

Like I said, we are all feeling more comfortable here.

I can't wait for it to snow.

That Awkward Moment When

In every relationship there comes a point when the newness wears off and most of the fronting a person does- any pretending they might be consciously or unconsciously doing- falls away.  I don't think that people set out to deceive each other.  Quite the opposite.  They want a prospective beau to be able to see the best that is in them, minus the dull, everyday attributes or habits that might detract from the view of one's heart.  To that end, they might (and I admit nothing here) take extra time to shave their legs before that third date.  They might eat less at dinner or just stick to salad and say no to the giant brownie sundae dessert even though previously, that brownie sundae was the whole reason you went to that restaurant and when you turn it down the waitress (who knows you, your name and your sundae-snarfing habits) looks at you accusingly and with a little shock.

The old habits are easy to slip back into and once you have that other person hooked, at some point it's ok to let those shine through.  Little do couples know or realize that this is also the make or break point of a relationship.  If after the third month of dating your boyfriend wakes up, and for the first time puts on heavy metal music and skips making coffee even though he bought the coffee maker just because he knew you were staying the night, this should be a sign to you that a) it's alright to make coffee for yourself and/or b) should figure out that even though heavy metal makes your ears want to curl up inside of your head, this is a fact of his life and you will need to take that into consideration when scoping out the wider spectrum of his maleness.  In my oh-so-recent experience, none of those things have happened. Grey drinks stronger coffee than I do and so far, no obnoxiousness in the mornings.

Knowing how relationships tend to go, we have made an effort to not just put that best foot forward.  If I want a dessert, I order one.  If there is no coffee made, one of us will make it.  Hell, he gave me a coffee maker for Christmas because mine was old and I needed to replace it anyway.  Maybe it's just me but I really like getting appliances for gifts.  I hope he takes me seriously when I ask for power tools for my birthday.  Still, there are some things I have take care about in my presentation of self.  I have really horrible, horrible morning breath.  All human beings with perhaps the exception of the Dalai Lama are thus cursed. I believe this is God's way of controlling the human population.  My breath is particularly fragrant and gagging in the morning and I cannot stand myself.  No exhaling permitted without first brushing my teeth.  So the first thing I do in the morning is jump out of bed and scrape the green moss off of my tongue, gargle a little and get back into bed so that I can pretend that I am some sort of heavenly angel who wakes up with Crest at the edges of her smile.

The other minor problem is that I also dislike all morning breath, though I try to hide this little bit of information.  I also don't particularly like my own coffee breath and get a little self-conscious about it. Grey figured that one out pretty quick.  Besides generously and wordlessly brushing his teeth first thing, he has also taken to keeping Altoids around. Since when he makes the two hour drive to my house he drinks coffee, he also stops and buys another tin of Altoids and pops one in his mouth just before he pulls up.  We didn't discuss this beforehand and it never occurred to me to ask about it because it's just something he does.  I found out because I teased him about the increasing number of mostly full Altoid boxes on his kitchen counter.  From my vantage point - writing on his computer here in Tulsa- I can see six boxes and count that as six times he has thought of my comfort level without me even knowing it.  I tell you what though, he probably has no idea that I can kill spiders just by breathing morning breath on them.  I hope he never figures that one out.

The fact is that I have what some people like to think of as "strange dietary habits".  When my roommate moved in she had a conversation with her mom. Her mom said "Does she cook?"  "No." "She eat anything?" "No."  And then VP told her about how I it must be a White people thing that I use spray butter on my food rather than butter or margarine.  If you have ever used spray butter you know it's not really butter but some vegetable oil and flavoring and sixty other preservatives that make it taste good and which makes your food taste buttery without adding calories.  When I was a kid, I would eat nothing but bread and butter for dinner.  Lots of butter.  I can't do that as an adult but I still like the taste.

I also have days when I don't eat much- maybe 700 calories.  I eat when I'm hungry and I'm not always hungry.  My food choices are more often than not very healthy with lots of fruits, veggies and hummus involved.  But some days I'm not as hungry as others.  However, there are times when I'd eat the spoon if I thought it was edible.  And during those times, I also eat what I want.  In any given month, it all evens out.  At first, I was too nervous to even really eat in front of Grey.  The first time he saw me on a hungry day, I'm sure he didn't quite know what to make of the petite eater he was used to seeing.

There are some things that I have cardinal rules about.  I don't go around making body noises around people and pretty much expect that same courtesy.  It's all cool if you or I or anybody just goes into the other room.  We can pretend nothing happened and that we are always rosy.  There's that rule, and everyone knows that rule.  Anyone who doesn't inherently follow that rule is weeded out within the first three dates (interesting side-note: did you know that the third date is now commonly accepted as the date where you have sex? I'm blaming the economy and the expenses of date night activities).

What I am going to tell you next might make you squeamish.  If you have a weak tummy or if you have any respect for me whatsoever, you might want to skip this next part.

We were in New Braunfels for a friend's wedding.  Grey's friend.  I don't like weddings much and tend to avoid them whenever possible.  But I am in love and will travel to Texas to smile at an entire room full of people I don't know and look pretty.  Because it's important to me that Grey is happy and that's much more powerful than my social anxiety.  We pulled up to the hotel just as the men and women were splitting for the night. Grey and I were graciously invited to go have Mexican food with the guys.  Yes, I inadvertently crashed a bachelor party.  As much as 30 somethings have bachelor parties.  And the food was authentic and good.  The men were kind and included me in their conversations even though I had never met any of them.  So that was nice.

But the next day I asked if Grey might wait at the front desk while I ran up to the hotel room. No, he'd rather just come upstairs with me.

Um, that's a problem.  The hotel room was very nice and the hotel itself is a historic landmark, built in the late 1800s in an art deco style.  They happy couple chose it because their wedding was art deco themed.  But the walls are thin, thin, thin and the bathroom door, when closed, still has daylight showing under the bottom and on the sides.  Nooo, it would be better if he stayed in the lobby.  But no, he did not get the hint so on the way upstairs (I was running at this point as it was just a matter of time before my guts turned inside out) I begged him to just sit in the hallway on a beautiful chaise lounge while I magically peeled the paint off of the walls. I texted him from the bathroom. "No more Mexican food. Ever."  Yes, I knew I'd be in there awhile and took technology with me so I could communicate with the outside world.

The wedding went off with a few hitches and the holiday ended peacefully enough.  Nobody had to evacuate the hotel because of my activities. New Years came and went life has gone back to being blissfully normal.  Well, as normal as you can be if you're me.

I'm not sure if Grey has any strange habits, weird quirks or if when I am not at home he bites the heads off of kittens.  I doubt it. So far our idiosyncrasies seem to match up.  That awkward moment when I took a sip of his favorite kind of coffee and realized that I'd have to dilute it by 50% to make it drinkable was sort of a nice one. Because I drink pretty strong coffee. And it goes pretty well with brownie sundaes.

Weighing In

I spent Thanksgiving in Tulsa this year.  I usually spend the week before Thanksgiving counting all of the things I am grateful for.  It really does take a week since I am very, very lucky and blessed.  Grey's family invited me over for dinner at their house and the day after Thanksgiving was spent at Patricia and Carter's. I was most excited because it's our first major holiday and I just knew it was going to be eventful.  I was right.

Grey's family was just lovely.  There were grown ups and kids running around and his brother surprised everyone by coming in from Atlanta unexpectedly for the holiday.  I made chocolate chip cookies, which turned out very well and earned the seal of approval from the nieces.  The youngest niece ate the most.  His Grandma was there too, which made me miss my grandma a bit.  I know it's been since March, but I did not take time to mourn and the pain is still fresh. Grey's Grandma said I was pretty and asked if I liked to cook.  Someone remarked that they thought it brave of me to just come to a family gathering and say hello.  It was not much of a risk, really.  Grey is a wonderful and kind person and he told me that his family is also wonderful and kind.  Doesn't sound much like razor wire and backstabbing to me.  The most traumatic event was getting slobbered on a bit by the resident shih tzu, who wanted me to play, play, play.  Yeah, pretty nice time.  We ate too much food and went home.

We Ate How Much?! 

And then the next day...

We showed up at Patricia's at noon.  I tried a new pumpkin fondue recipe which called for kirsch.  That's some sort of cherry brandy and the cherry brandy I bought turned out to be far too strong.  So the fondue was a bust.  But that's ok.  I hopped in the kitchen with Patricia and Grey did table preparations.  For about an hour and a half we did our thing and I helped her whip up a hell of a meal.  One of the 12 people is allergic to everything under the sun except for water and some sort of South California raisin.  Another is gluten intolerant and a third is just very picky.  Patricia did research and planned out a meal that everyone would be able to eat and also enjoy.  I do love cooking with her.  This is an art sadly being lost in the United States, where people cook together and prepare communal meals.  For women especially in the culture where I grew up, this is how we bond.  We kick the men out and talk and work and laugh and gossip.  It's good for my soul.  Perhaps this shows my age, but I pity a generation of women who do not know how to talk to each other face to face.  But with help from Grey and Carter, we fed everyone who showed up.  I think it was closer to 14 guests.

So we all sat down to eat.  Grey does not feel brave.  He has met the Hargraves before and he is not a shy person.  This would be the opposite of such an introvert as me.  It took me several years just to coax me to have dinner with them after karate practice.  And at the head of the table, Carter is making jokes about me because I'm full and it's about three bites into the dinner.  That's the other thing: cooks never starve.  So I threw my knife at him.  Everyone knows that Carter and I fight. It's what we do. I wasn't going to hit him with it. It was plastic. It landed near the three year old so Grey took my knife away.  I sort of smirked at that; there are at least 5 other knives much sharper than that one in the room where we were eating.  But alright.  And he thought I was being brave by going to his family's dinner...

Later I was washing up dishes and heard a call from outside.  The corg's were going at it with each other.  Welsh Corgi's are territorial.  If a new person comes along, each would claim that person as their own and these two always believe that the best way to settle disagreements is by biting the ever-loving shit out out of each other.  It was a duel to the death because of the guests did not know this. She took the three year old to the back yard to entertain him. I all but tossed the kid over the fence and set about separating the fang-locked lovers.  Carter ended up having to grab one and I grabbed the other and we pulled in opposite directions.

There was a clear winner and loser in all of this.  Bella, the little one, was also the loser.  She was bleeding from several spots on her ears and a few on her neck.  She was visibly shaken and breathing hard.  We put the bigger one, Camilla, in her kennel while I cleaned up Bella. Ears bleed a lot.  I had Carter holding her so I could clean the wounds and she shook her head, spraying me and Carter in the face with bright red drops.  At some point, and for no apparent reason as this is how my friend shows his affection, Carter kicked Grey in the butt.  Not hard and with a silly smile on his face, but still I was mortified.  Now that I think about it, that is probably why he did it. To mortify me. Awesome.  But nothing seems to ruffle Grey much. So we ate too much food and went home. I think he was pretty brave and also pretty affable to suffer the slings and arrows (knives?) of my kinda people.



Sure there was exercise during the course of the five day weekend, but seriously, I consumed too many calories.  So this week is a weaning back to regular eating and lots of good exercise and fresh air before gearing up for the Christmas season, which will bring graduation, my sisters in town for their first visit in ten years and hopefully, a joyeux noel.

Snapshots

Sometimes images are more telling than words. A few photos from my life life of late....Summertime foods, driving, weather changes. You know, Oklahoma! Oh, and one photo of Crescent Lake that my sister Patti sent me. One of the most beautiful places on earth.
My view on the drive home today.

That's me and the Big dog as we head out to cruise Norman.

Mmmm, salad rocks. This one has mushrooms, parmasan, red peppers and olives.

Lake Crescent, Washington *sigh*

Byers, Oklahoma on a rainy day

Me, tired of driving 140 miles a day. It's only week 3.