February 1, 2022

His Kind Of Woman

Beloved’s friend Jack was talking about the latest woman in his life. I didn’t catch her name, but I can tell you that she can drive a truck, catch a fish, and change a light bulb.

Evidently, these things are essential to Jack as he doesn’t want to be “rescuing” a woman from things. Instead, he needs her to drive a truck to help him haul his bikes. In addition, he loves to fish, and that’s how he sees them spending quality time. As for changing light bulbs, well, I guess that’s the practical piece.

Jack told Beloved that he was sure that this was the one for happily ever after. And if not happily ever after, then she’s at least the girl he wants for himself at this stage in his life.

I asked Beloved what type of woman he needed, just out of curiosity. Beloved’s brow furrowed a bit, and he said, “obviously, one who can’t make a proper cuppa tea, doesn’t know how to cook fine food, is as stubborn as a mule, and holds her own.”

He went on to say that there was a time when he thought it would be a woman who grew up near him, knew how to make his favorite foods and drinks, and found everything he said so fascinating that she hung onto his every word. A divorce says that’s not what he needed, not really.

So he started over and somehow ended up with me.

July 8, 2021

What If

Sometimes, when it’s still and it seems as if time has stopped, I will watch Beloved sleep and wonder what if. What if a chance encounter, a brief meeting with a mutual friend, hadn’t happened. I wonder what he would be doing if things had been different.

Sometimes, when he has his head buried in a book, I will look at Beloved and marvel at how I’m not just thrilled to have him in my life, but to want of future of days watching him reading.

Other times, as he explains to me the exact method to make the perfect tea or why he needs a bit of salt in his coffee, I wonder if I will ever grow tired of these conversations.

Years ago, I vowed that I was happy not seeing the same face across the table from me each morning. I vowed not to become enthralled with the routine to the point that I was lulled into boredom.

But I tripped through Beloved’s wires, or he worked his way through a crack in my armor, and there he is. The same face greets me each morning, and I am not yet bored by it. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard about the tannins in tea and how they can affect bitterness. I don’t mind because it’s Beloved telling me this over and over again as he carefully makes his tea as if his very life depends upon it.

The spark I felt once upon a time is still there, and if the crease between his brows is deeper now, I don’t mind at all.

June 2, 2021

That Kind Of Man

Beloved’s the kind of man who somehow knows what I want or need before I have even figured it out. I can’t count the number of times he has offered me a book, a cup of coffee, or wrap before I’ve recognized that I needed it.

There are times I’ve wondered if he has a crystal ball or some other type of power to be able to anticipate and know before I do. He’s assured me this isn’t the case, pointing out that I would be far more likely to have access to this type of thing than he would.

Instead, he assures me, it comes from close observation and knowing me.

He makes me wonder who I can not know him as well as he knows me. He smiles at this, telling me that I do the same for him; I just can’t realize it for what it is.

Even when he isn’t here, he is somehow able to know what I need or want before I do. He sent coffee this morning, just when I had hit the point where I needed something to get through the last of the research.

Beloved is that kind of man, and I’m blessed to have him in my life.

January 21, 2021

To The Market

Beloved took the four-footed one down to the market so I could rest rather than have to chase her around the house. The four-footed one enjoys the market almost as much as she enjoys being chased throughout the house.

I had gotten comfortable with a book and a cup of coffee, knowing I would have at least two hours to myself. Two hours of doing whatever I wanted with no guilt. Sometimes this is reversed, and I take the four-footed one out so Beloved can do whatever he wants.

Don’t misunderstand. We love our four-footed one to death. We adore her, but sometimes we want a few moments for ourselves, and she doesn’t always agree with us on this point.

You see, the four-footed one is thrilled to be near us all the time. She is happy to find something for us to do with her if we are missing an opportunity. Frequently, she thinks we are missing opportunities for great fun, such as running around the house.

She will come back full from her adventure and be exceedingly content to curl up with me while I read or rest, and Beloved will be free to do as he wishes too.

September 22, 2019

How Short?

“We should go for a short walk,” he said as he clipped the leash to the dog’s harness. For a moment I was wondering which “we” he was referring to, him and the dog or him and I.

It turns out he was talking about the three of us going. And it turns out short is relative as well.

After half an hour of walking up some fairly steeply inclined ground, Beloved announced we had reached the end point of the walk. As in we go no further. Frankly my feet and knees were pleased with this announcement.

But of course nothing is can stay the same for long. And so it was with the slow realization sinking in to my feet, knees, and heart that I was going to have walk all that way back. And even more disheartening was the thought that what goes up (in this case it was us) must come down (steep incline remember).

By the time we finished our “short” walk, I knew I had over done things, and judging from the way Beloved sunk into the chair once he made it in the house, I knew he had reached his limit too. The only one of us who wasn’t suffering from the walk was the four-footed one.

Next time he says we should go for a short walk I’m going to get specifics. Or remind him of what happened last time.

July 19, 2019

Not Like His Dad

Beloved’s father laid bricks for a living. He started his apprenticeship at a young age, gaining skill and daring style once he had mastered the basics. He would go on from working for someone else to creating his own company with a friend. They would become known for delicate and intricate brick work. A marvel of gentleness with strong materials.

Beloved never learned how to lay brick from his father. As a matter of fact, Beloved learned very little from his father other than anger and never doing anything right. Their relationship was a tempestuous one at best.

To this day, when Beloved speaks of his father, which is rare indeed, it is with a tone of something boarding on uncertainty. If you ask him, he will tell you that he was loved by his father, even if he couldn’t see it himself as a young child. But he will also tell you that he doesn’t have fond memories of his father and that while other boys his age were learning how to fish and do other things with their fathers, Beloved had mastered the art of hiding from his dad.

His father either was at work or working on forgetting life with the help of a bottle filled with burning liquid. Most mornings, Beloved would find his father asleep in the same chair he had started drinking in the night before.

He never learned how to lay brick with his dad, nor did he learn how to drive from his father. He learned a lot from his dad though, but mostly by seeing his father as a poor example of things.

His father taught him the importance of moderation (something his dad could not learn when it came to alcohol), he also taught him the importance of tenderness (something he never saw his father share with anyone although he had heard stories that said once upon a time his dad was a tender man).

Most importantly, his father taught him about love. How unconditional love can overlook hurt and abuse. How love can you make tolerate things you never thought you would. And how love can make you blind at times when you really should see clearly.

May 9, 2017

Hey There Sunshine

When I was growing up we had a neighbor who spent every moment she could in the warm sunshine with as much skin exposed to the sun as possible. The minute it was warm enough she’d be sunbathing top-less for hours on end until she reached a golden color I related to well cooked French fries! 😊

I myself did not sunbathe as per say, but I also wasn’t afraid of the sun. I would acquire a decent tan from playing outside regardless of how many layers of sunscreen my mother slathered on me. I’m pretty sure I simply out-wore the sunscreen during that time, nothing deliberate and no thought of getting a tan.

After getting diagnosed with lupus and being placed on a variety of medication which made me sensitive to the sun I tend to avoid bright sunlight as if it were the plague. This means that I am starting to match Beloved glowing white color. No, actually what it means is that I never go anywhere without wearing sunscreen and having the stuff with me at all times. It also means wearing sun protective clothing with long sleeves and legs. And yes a rather large hat.

I didn’t start my lupus journey with such avoidance skills. As a matter of fact I flaunted my exposure to the sun, because what could really happen? In case you are wondering what could really happen is that my hands and feet were swollen to twice their normal size. My skin was sensitive, itchy and a blotchy reddish-purple color. And yes friends, this had to happen more than once before I clued in that the sun and I have a different relationship.

Now id like to say that since those days I’ve never had a run in with the sun again, but there have been the odd times when it starts off overcast and somehow while I out walking or whatever the sun plays peek-a-boo and I get caught not exactly prepared. Thankfully those times are very rare. Also thankfully I don’t run and hide from the sun either. We just have a different relationship now as I said before, and I still enjoy it in different ways.

March 15, 2017

When They Say…It Really Means…

My mother took a lot of baths while I was growing up; a lot of long baths to be exact. My father once told me that he wasn’t sure it was humanly possible for someone to have a two-hour bath the way my mother did. These weren’t the “getting clean” types of baths any more than they were the types of baths that let you play with your toys for a bit before the whole getting clean nonsense happened. Oh no, not these baths. These required perfect water temperature, special smelling soap or bubbles and a great big, thick book to accompany her during this special, ritualized bathing.

My father swore that she put her special soap and water in the tub and then simply soaked her feet while she hid away from us. I suspect he was annoyed that two could play the game of getting away from the constantly questioning offspring they ended up with. My father would have moments where he was busy doing work that would result in dangerous flying projectiles. These moments sometimes lasted hours and were always accompanied by the sound of his saw running or the grinder spinning. I have no clue to this day what he did because there was never that much wood in the house nor were there that many things requiring his electric grinder.

In keeping up with the lovely trend of finding “excuses” to hide away from someone, Beloved will be occasionally be rather busy tending to his beard. Because you know that can take hours given that his beard is kept closely trimmed and isn’t thick enough to hide a small forest’s worth of animals in it. So you can see how a girl like me might, if she didn’t know any better, take it personally. All these reasons for people hiding themselves away from me ring somewhat false.

Of course when I am off doing research or requiring some time alone to either read or plan out lessons, it’s completely different from his need to tend to his beard. It isn’t that I’m trying to get away from Beloved; it’s just a requirement for work. You see the difference don’t you? Oh sorry did I just out your bath ritual? 😉

July 1, 2015

Relationship With Fear

I listened to a man explain that when we give into fear we give power to that which we fear. In other words if we can let go of that fear, the thug we are so scared of stops being scary and we can examine it closely for what it truly is.

He made it sound so simple, as though you simply tell yourself that you aren’t afraid of the subject, and after a small cloud of smoke or a wave of a wand or whatever magic it is, fear disappears.

the same man also said if we let go of our attachments and simply enjoy the moment in the present we not only lose fear, we also live a more full life. Again he made it sound like there was something mystical and magical about what he was saying. Even though these aren’t really new ideas, or all that simple to enact.

I suppose there is something to letting go of hopes and dreams of the future in exchange for the full experience of now. I also know this isn’t exactly the world’s easiest thing to do.

I wondered about these messages that were being given at this session. First off the message that fear makes us somehow powerless seems wrong. Fear is what keeps us alive in some situations. Fear can keep us out of risky situations, save us from death or serious harm.

Fear, in some cases can be rather exhilarating, it’s just a case of how we take it in. Some people enjoy the excitement and energy fear can bring. Some people love the jolt of emotions and adrenaline rush that can come when we are scared. So is fear really such a bad thing?

Another thing that bothers me with these messages is that if we are holding on and attaching our selves to things we are some how denying ourselves a full life experience. I can’t imagine how not forming attachments and bonds to people and animals makes life a more rich and full experience. Living in the moment is fine and good,but getting to really know or love someone doesn’t happen exactly in that blink of an eye.

I suppose everything in moderation, including the idea of moderation itself makes more sense to me. But then I love a good scare!

June 16, 2015

Relationships With Food and Whims

Cucumbers were thinly sliced. Mint was gently swirling in the water along with ice cubes. In other words, a relaxing time was set to happen.

I even put on soothing music and adjusted the lights. I was all set to relax, except…

The cucumber juice got in my eye and that started to sting. The mint water was anything but relaxing and I discovered I didn’t enjoy the music. It grated on my nerves and made me tense.

Beloved laughed when I told how my relaxation turned into nothing but tension. Until he got cucumber juice in his eye, then he realized that it does sting. And he wondered why on earth anyone would even think to stick the cucumber slices in their eyes. And if the sting was designed to be temporary and then feel soothing afterwards.

If you think about it, we put oatmeal on our skin. The same with honey, egg, sugar and such. Why on earth would we do this? I don’t know, but at some point humans decided that food wasn’t just for being in the face when we are young and learning how to eat. At some point we reached a place of comfort with food and realized we could use it for more than nourishing our bodies. But that comes when there is an abundance of food and we don’t have work too hard for it. Otherwise it’s an inexcusable waste of precious resources.