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Musings from the Laundromat – Giving and Receiving
First I’d like to thank Butters for only waking me up 4 times in the night.
Then, I would like to thank my weekend alarm (set when Nic was still a young school boy, you know … a few weeks ago) that went off at 2:16 am.
It had been set for something he was going to that I had to wake him up for. What was it?? … I can’t think of it.
Anyway, in trying to turn off said alarm, I:
1) woke the rare sleeping dog
2) knocked my phone off of the nightstand, and
3) sent my glass of kiwi-watermelon drink flying – only to land in between the bed and the wall. A nice tight space for cleaning up.
I don’t know if that is the actual flavor by the way … I’m guessing based on the portion of my carpet that is now a lovely kiwi-watermelon color.
Heard my son up several times in the night too – and when I left the house this morning, he was rocking moves like Jagger.
A sleeping Jagger, but moving like him none the less.
Speaking of moves, yesterday I modeled a dress for a good cause. CASA is a program that benefits abused and neglected children in the area.
It was a lot of fun to meet the other models and attendees.
It was also a little hilarious to be half-naked getting ready in a room closed off from the event, whilst facing a huge, wall sized window facing the river.
I don’t think any of us really cared. The people going by on their jet skis probably were going by too fast to notice. (Not sure about the people on the beach.)
I noticed some things though.
I noticed that I didn’t have the fears I had in my 20’s or 30’s to stand in a slip and a bra in public view.
And I noticed that I thought the other ladies, in all shapes and sizes were beautiful. Just as they were.
They were even more beautiful to me because of why they were there. Women giving their time, wanting to do what they could to help such an amazing non-profit organization.
I refer to my growth again as a lot of things are changing. 44 has been pretty amazing so far.
It’s so wonderful to be comfortable in my skin, comfortable in my head and full of hope and joy and promise.
Life is amazing. And if you’re patient enough, and do the next right thing, it turns out life has gifts you didn’t even know were coming.
I’m still processing this.
But, as someone very special to me said recently, it is nice to sometimes receive after all the time we gave.
Yet, I can never forget that there is nothing worth receiving unless I keep giving.
Restless dog syndrome
I learned a very short sentence in German. Mein hund. Probably it’s not even a complete sentence, but since it’s only 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning and I am not close to thinking in complete sentences yet … I can’t be sure.
I learned this after wanting to learn some German, and because ‘mein hund’ is slowly driving me to the brink madness. And ‘mein hund’ is of late, at the forefront of my ‘things that come out of my mouth to mention when called upon to answer the “how are you?” question.’
I do not sleep through the night anymore.
It’s like having a newborn in the house again. Only, without the instant dissipation of frustration and loathing for sleep deprivation I experienced when I did lay eyes on my actual baby. (18 years ago)
Lack of sleep has taken its toll. I can’t remember the last time I hit REM mode during the night. And I would remember. Yes I would. I have a knack for remembering my dreams.
My only dream currently is that of an entire night with my eyelids touching.
Not the left and the right ones … the top and the bottom ones.
And why I had to clarify that is a testament to the fact that I’ve probably rolled and crossed my eyes so many times in the past few months to actually convince my tired brain the first scenario is actually possible! (And yes, I’ve gone from possible incomplete sentences to definite run-on sentences, that’s what mein hund has brought me to!)
SO there’s that going on.
Can’t focus, losing weight (What that has to do with lack of sleep, I don’t know. Probably due to increased nocturnal exercising and lack of daytime energy to chew.)
She has the audacity now, after I’ve given up on any chance at more Z catching, to lay adorably at the foot of the bed, head rested on her paws – and nap.
I should go crawl over to the edge of the bed, stare at her, breathe in her face and *thwack* the wall with something that would make a similar sound to that of her tail. Turn-about is fair play.
I would do it too! If I weren’t lacking the energy and motor skills to crawl over near her.
Summer (Or, ‘Didn’t I say last year I wasn’t staying in the desert?’)
Summer has crept into the desert wearing steel toed boots.
Got into my car after work today greeted by a balmy 121 degrees (that’s 49.44 Celsius). Cooled down to about 119 by the time I arrived home and was able to safely remove my cardigan.
It’s that time of year that you sleep on top of the covers, listen to the night song of the air conditioner whirring. The time of the year I find my dog laying directly on top of the floor vents – hogging the relief of cool air.
You know that ‘whoosh’ of hot that hits your face and arms when you open a pre-heated oven? That’s pretty much how it feels to open the front door in the morning.
The thing is, you get used to it. Even when tar from the store parking lots stick to your flip flops, there is no flinching. Just a knowing and respectful acknowledgment.
Getting used to the juxtaposition of ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ is a skill you acquire too. Layers. Layers of Summertime ‘outside’ undergarments and air conditioned ‘inside’ outerwear is required. (Say that three times fast.)
Being English, I do not ‘tan’. I keep my fair complexion, and I’ve adapted.
I marvel at the tourists in their tank tops and shorts, panting as they reach the oasis that is the door to their destination. I was that person years ago!
Now I slowly stride near them, in my long sleeved work tops with an air of ‘Yes, I am of the desert. My people do not fear the heat’.
I jest. I fear the heat. It’s directly related to fear of the electric bill.
I HAVE to have a cover on me at night. I sleep under a cotton sheet with a fan at the foot of my bed. The A/C is set at 85 in the house. Much to the chagrin of guests who keep their homes in the 70’s.
Good thing I don’t have many guests I suppose.
Unless we’re counting the Summertime creatures … but that’s for another post.
The Dentist … (insert dramatic music here)
That was my status this morning. Oh my funny cousin in Switzerland – and his comments. But he’s on to something. Yes, yes I do love my dentist.
This has not always been the case. For years and years I have had a deep and morbid fear of ‘The Dentist’.
I’ve shared the story before of how I broke my two front teeth in High School I’ll tell it again. (That’s what I do, I’m getting old. I repeat stories now.)
Those were the dental wonder years – my perfect, straight teeth. *sigh*
My dentist, who I never feared visiting back then, was even going to take a cast of my teeth to take to schools as a model. You remember those models? They’d whip a set of choppers out of their box of tricks and show you how to brush properly on them.
Oooo! Remember the chewable tablets that turned your teeth pink to show you how much plaque you missed when you brushed? Those were fun too.
Anyway, (tangent queen is in the house), I had PERFECT teeth. Never needed braces. Never had a cavity. Gold star for me.
Then came my Junior year.
That’s me on the right. Oh how I loved cheerleading. I’d make up routines at home, even messed around with a baton (which we didn’t use in cheerleading, but I had spirit! Anything spirit related, I was honing in those skills.)
One weeknight, I was on my bed, chatting with my brother Jamie, twirling a baton whilst on my back. I threw it up in the air and …. SMACK!
My perfect teeth were no longer perfect.
The semi-circle of ‘nothingness’ where ‘somethingness’ used to be on my two front teeth was pretty perfect though.
Off to the dentist.
Bonding was pretty new back then. (Gawd I’m old.) I think he was pretty excited about using this ‘new technique’. After what felt like hours of application and blue lights – my smile was back.
Went downhill from there – in my 20’s … my first cavity.
I won’t bore you with the progression of dental dilemmas, (you’re welcome) but let’s just say, that after a dentist told me “you can’t possibly FEEL that” as I writhed in pain in a chair, I wasn’t hell-bent on returning anytime soon.
So I didn’t. I put such appointments off until I couldn’t bear it anymore.
Then later it became a money issue. With no dental insurance, you’d better have just inherited some money to get work done.
Then it became a ‘I’ve waited too long and now it will only be worse and I am scared to hear what he’s going to say’ issue.
They call those teeth out you know! While frowning. And the assistant is jotting the numbers down and cutting her eyes at you from under her disappointed lashes.
It’s like hearing a list of crimes you’ve committed! “B4, G13, O22” … oh, wait, no, that’s Bingo.
But you get the picture.
And all the while, you’re gripping the arms of a chair like this:
And all you can think of, other than “that’s a long list, I might have to sell a limb or an organ to afford it”, is this:
I got brave. I was tired of not smiling. I had a lot to smile about. I LOVE life. And dammit, I was going to smile.
My first visit, found me covered in sweat (it was not hot out) and flinching at the innocuous bib they put around my neck.
I found muscles I didn’t know I had as I tensed up into a perfect impression of a plank of wood. Not easy to do in those chairs. But I accomplished it.
Keep in mind, this first visit was just a xray and assessment. Didn’t seem to stop me from grasping the assistants hand though. I love her. ❤
Long story short – $1,975 later and with only two small procedures to go, I am a PRO at the dentist.
The assistant took my hand in hers today and I didn’t even need to squeeze it.
I lay there, not caring about the needle – after chatting with everybody in the office and breathed slowly. Relaxed. Gazing out of the window at the clever little garden they have outside.
I occasionally blinked at the water they rinsed me with when it got in my eye … ok, I did almost drown once, she wasn’t quick enough with the suction, but I managed to swallow before I died.
Afterward, the dentist smiled when I showed him my list. I’ve been crossing off each completed procedure. I felt like a kid showing her parent a picture I’d made at school. “Put it on the fridge!”
Only two small procedures to go! Then it’s into the hygienists chair for a cleaning.
Oh gawd … Wait … I remember them!!! They poke, and floss too hard!
But, I will be brave.
And I will remember … when it comes to car problems, relationship problems or teeth problems, deal with them immediately! The longer you put it off, the worse they’re going to get.
Awake
My usual ‘Musings from the Laundromat’ will be written from home, as they’re not open yet.
I’ve been up since just before 5 O’Clock thanks to Butters, my restless bedroom companion. 3 times last night she wanted to go outside … just to bark at something and hang out on the porch. And that was a good night.
So here I am, sleepy, but happy and trying to find the words to describe the past week. I’m not sure I can.
‘Awake’ is a good start.
Haven’t been sleeping much … but the way I see it, if I’m blessed to be very old one day, I’ll look back and smile at experiences, not the time I spent asleep.
Besides, my mind is wide awake. As is my heart is and my soul.
A series of connections and coincidences keep occurring.
It is as if all the intangibles that have made me who I am, ancestry, music, beliefs, memories, words I’ve read, places I’ve been – have found their counterpoint.
I’ve always liked to think that when I experience Déjà vu it is a sign that I am right where I am meant to be. But I have not experienced anything like this past week before.
No sense that something has happened before, only that it was meant to.















