Musings from the Laundromat: Long and Winding Road
While routine soothes me – it’s beginning to become glaucoma groundhog day each Sunday.
Bless my little glaucoma man, but for 5 minutes I stood holding an empty canister of laundry sprinkles, listening to him share the latest about his eyes.
My little pocket man is apparently in the hospital – remember him? The one I gave a band-aid to? I just overheard that exchange between his wife and glaucoma man.
That makes me sad.
I just ventured over to the coffee pot in hopes there was some caffeine awaiting. There was.
Laundry lady: I made it just for YOU
Me: You’re a lamb – that’s what you are.
You get connected to people you know?
Just said good-bye to glaucoma man … I’m missing little pocket man. And staring at an ’emotional support’ dog sniffing around the place. Wishing it would come close enough to take a photo of.
I could use some ’emotional support’ right now.
Spent Friday night going through my worldly possessions – and some of them HAVE in fact possessed me. Going through my closet was akin to Mr. Toads Wild Ride.
I looked at old photos – old cards – old diaries and letters. Old ways of thinking, old mistakes … ended up burning a book hoping for some sense of closure.
The book would not burn! I started outside, dug a hole in the dirt (emotional or not, I am a sensible fire starter) and struck match, after match, after match – to no avail. Ended up coming inside and just doing it in the kitchen sink. Only the cover ended up catching fire – but it was enough. I soaked the fire out and put the book in the trash.
Done.
There’s more that must go.
I have this visceral need to remove toxic memories from a home that will be filled with new and amazing ones.
Ever mindful of course, not to forget the lessons I’ve accumulated along my crazy path.
I then got nostalgic – as you do when you’ve just poured through photos. And sat listening to songs (when I should have been cleaning) and stayed up way too late.
Posting stupid things on Facebook – okay, let’s be fair to myself for once, I posted honest and immediate feelings I was having – then deleted them the next morning. I am so very bad at editing myself. I give too much of myself away. Then remember, not everyone wants to know what’s going through my head. If they do … probably they’ll come here. lol.
Anyway – the songs calmed me, songs always do, and with my room in shambles – memories strewn about the place – I found sleep.
This song reminded me of life’s twists, turns and arriving back to my honey.
Rushing into it? 25 years and counting.
32 is my favorite number. (My Nannies old address)
Being ‘next’ is my favorite place to be. (Anticipation)
31 is the day I’m getting married – with my love waiting for me in his moms gazebo.
30 was the table I sat at last night – without him.
I was having a very ‘I miss my love’ day yesterday. I mean, I do everyday, but it was extra palpable yesterday. Visceral.
Had a Chamber of Commerce event last night. A couple came over to our company’s table, newly engaged … there were congratulations and smiles – she flashed her ginormous engagement ring and I remember thinking, ‘HOW is she going to do laundry without snagging something on that??’ lol. I’m not into the ‘bling’. It was pretty, but – I prefer sentimental and subtle.
But, I have to admit, I felt – (while happy for them) so … left out of that celebration. Don’t get me wrong. When Jim posted our engagement on Facebook, so many important people offered their love, their pleased shock and their joy for Jim.
A few offered their congratulations to both of us. That was sweet, and meant so much. I was just so happy people were happy for HIM!
Truly.
I awoke this morning, after my unedited admission of missing my love, to amazing words from him.
He gave me joy, patience and once again, confirmations for the reasons I love him.
Then this:
And his words that accompanied it:
“Found it, after weeks! 1990 and still current.”
That was not my undoing – the ensuing comments were.
“It’s been a long crazy 25 year voyage babe! Bless you for finding me, and never giving up after two plus decades.”
Then:
“Jim. This brings tears to my eyes. Great sketch of your bride to be.” (From a family friend, who will be our wedding photographer.)
Then my son chimes in:
“That’s amazing!”
Jim: No, You’re amazing!
Nic: No, my baby goblin (that’s a D & D reference) and you are amazing!
Jim: Pickles! Now!!!
I was laughing and had tears in my eyes at the same time. Those dorks are my favorite people.
And I get to marry the man who drew the picture I didn’t know was me.
See HERE
Click on that, then come back.
Here’s the deal.
I have loved. As much as I was capable of loving.
I did not know, however, that I was capable of loving someone THIS much.
I’m 45. I’ll be 46 in May and I found my true love – who was 25 years away.
(Yes, dammit, I’m aware I’ve unintentionally rhymed a whole lot lol)
When Jim and I had our week – it was nothing like anything I’ve experienced.
It was comfort – serenity. I didn’t bite my nails – I didn’t feel like I had to constantly be DOING or BEING. I just … was.
And I was a better me.
A happier me.
And my son adored him and that made it the most special time.
Moms, if your kids don’t dig your guy … run! Run SO fast!
But he’s not a kid anymore. It’s March (the longest month that will EVER be for me lol – Jim arrives in April)
Nic will turn 20 this month.
My baby is growing.
I’ve grown too.
I was so jaded – I forgot the feelings of true love.
I’ve mended my bridges with my sons love – pretty sure she’s the mother of my future grandchildren, and, as I told her – ‘expect them to be total nerds. I will feed them cookies and Star Wars’.
Because I get it now.
It took my son falling in ‘true’ love for me to learn how.
And it took my first love, to come back and show me who.
And for that, I’m so grateful.
I love you Jim. And I’m so proud to be your bride.
Musings from the Laundromat: Gerber Daisies & Marijuana Edition
I decided this morning I wanted to surprise my laundry lady with something bright and unexpected. So I stopped off at Safeway before venturing across our little highway to the laundromat.
That building behind the flower is the laundromat area
I continued on and balanced my two baskets, my to-go coffee and the flower.
I approached the counter.
Me: These are for you – thank you for smiling every time I see you.
Her: Oh, thank you! Are you going to need coffee today?
And that was that. And I adore her.
Standing by ‘my’ (preferred) machines was cataract man. “There you are!” he said.
He revealed a secret machine that was closed. “You can use this one!”
The irony in that offer was that for once, all the machines that I covet were available. I politely declined the ‘secret’ machine and stuffed two next to it.
Then cataract man discussed his desire to perhaps ask his doctor for a marijuana prescription, as he still has uncomfortable pressure on his eyes, and in spite of multiple people who have told him to the contrary, he is certain his cataract surgery gave him glaucoma.
Him: I might put it in food
Me: Well, make sure you heat it up – you can’t just sprinkle it on a salad – has to be heated to release the THC
Him: Yeah – I definitely don’t want to smoke it.
Cataract man in action
I claimed a table and opened up my ipad.
In came some more familiar faces.
“There’s band-aid lady!” My little old man had arrived. (For those of you new to the blog, this stems from a day I watched him sitting trying to continually wipe blood from his arm – I went and got him a band-aid.)
“Hi!” I said.
(It dawns on me – for all the names I’ve given people – have I become ‘band-aid lady’??)
Then a rare sighting. Cataract man was having technical difficulties – here is laundry lady with him, helping him out.
And here is the little old man I wanted to put in my pocket. He’s so flipping small and sweet. I still get the Elmer Fudd vibe when I look at him.
This place has become a second home.
A friendly tradition. A little laundry family.
And as I put my clothes in the dryer, of course, a pair of panties fell to the floor. This morning it was the peach colored pair. And no one cared. Because by now, we’ve seen all of one another’s laundry.
Turquoise and Silver Patience
My plan to take a very early lunch, in order to avoid the ‘lunch crowd’ at the bank backfired.
It seems I’m not the only one who had that plan.
I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating – I don’t mind standing in line.
I think of all the people who would give anything to be able to.
To hear the chatter around them. To see the sights … the colors.
People unable to stand.
People unable to leave their homes.
People no longer with us.
What would they give to stand in that line?
There was a beautiful Native American woman in front of me. A black braid ran the length of her back – a turquoise and silver hair clip securing the top of it. No grey – in spite of her advanced age. She was lovely. Freckles and kind, happy eyes.
And she was waiting patiently as I was.
There was some mumbling – impatience and she turned and locked eyes with me and we shared a smile. There was understanding and amusement. And peaceful resonance.
Then she took her turn – and I kept staring at her, unable to look away – until I was called for mine.
Finding a poem – and him loving another
I found a poem today … from my love. To someone else.
And I adored it.
We both have yesterdays.
Those yesterdays make up who we are today.
Those yesterdays made the timing just right for what we have now.
Who would we be if we didn’t experience heartache, longing, change?
Who would we be if we were stagnant? Not growing, not hurting – figuring out what worked in our lives and what didn’t?
I cherish his memories. Because not only did he care for people, but he shared with me that he cared for them. I couldn’t love someone that discounted their past. Who wrote if off like it never happened.
Then it would mean I never happened.
I’m not jealous. I have such confidence in our love it’s bonkers.
I cherish every step he took – every painful step he took and kept walking!!
He has a girl – that he adores. Her name is Amy. And for a while, I had a fleeting problem with him sharing a house with her. Silly. But, you know how I am. Honest. This feeling cropped up knowing he had a past, and hopes, and dreams with her – and I was on the heels of falling in love.
Silly, because, she’s pretty freaking amazing. And she was there for him. When he needed her most.
I adore her too. And she reached out to me the other day – and while we only exchanged two IM’s, the mutual respect was there.
Things happen for a reason.
And I know that amazing woman will always be part of our lives. And she must be. Because she seees in him what I see in him. She loves him.
And he loves her.
And he has never made that a secret. And I love that about my future husband.
He adores who he adores – endlessly.
That makes me feel safe.
The honesty. The dedication. The loyalty.
What he gives to those he loves.
I love.
Debauchery Soup 