After almost 3 years, countless prayers, the biggest test of our faith and hope we've had yet, I must say how truly grateful I am for:
I felt at the beginning of this year that some major changes were going to happen in my life. Now, toward the end, and on a day of gratitude, I can look back and see what they are. It's been a difficult year in many ways, but I'm grateful for what I've learned. I'm grateful to be able to look around my neighborhood and see families gathered together in warm houses, the yellow lights in the windows reflecting the sunset. I'm grateful that, although it has problems and should be replaced soon, my car has a good engine and brakes and is paid for. I'm grateful I have my own tools. I'm grateful that I can help my family, both financially and emotionally. I'm grateful I can pay tithing and know that those funds aren't being abused. I'm grateful for my soft heart and generous spirit--I cry over animals I've never met, and I always wish I could give more than I can. I'm grateful for my family. We don't always get along (my youngest sister isn't talking to my oldest brother right now, and it's hard) but I know that through the sealing power we can be together forever.
Hello strangers. Last we spoke, I was giving online dating a shot. I went on a few dates, mostly duds. Well, all duds eventually. John Denver also turned out to be a disaster.
So I threw myself back into school and work and the single life I actually enjoyed.
And then I got a layoff notice.
And then I met someone.
And I spent the summer unemployed and falling in love (and doing some school work) and blogging was not high on my priority list.
And now? I'm getting married next month! And planning our wedding! And moving into our new apartment! Oh, and I'm working part-time and prepping for graduation next semester.
So, life is busy, but oh so wonderful. My fiancé, Roscoe Jones, is amazing and I can't wait to be his wife!
I'm going to try and use some of this month's NaBloPoMo and tell some of our story. Or talk about wedding plans. Or, on busy days, share some of my favorite quotes about love.
I am an incredibly blessed woman. Roscoe has definitely been worth the wait!
Today would have been my anniversary. It's a strange mix of emotions looking back at the last few years: I'm happy I'm where I am, I'm sad for what could have been.
Most of all, I thank God almost every day that I didn't marry him.
And now the post I thought I would be writing last week and didn't.
My mom taught me to write thank you notes. I sent thank you notes each year to my grandpas for the birthday and Christmas gifts they gave. I wrote thank you notes to people who did nice things for me. We made sure we hand wrote personal thank you notes after our wedding. I was still getting over a hand injury from earlier in the year so I could only do five or so at a time before my hand hurt too much, but I'd do five a day till mine were all done.
I sincerely hope that hand written thank yous never disappear. Although the fact that someone thought our thank you note sent a month after the wedding was a pregnancy announcement probably says something. I never got a thank you note from that person after their wedding two years earlier either.
The first of January I was reading "The Art of Manliness" and there was a post about making a resolution to write a romantic love note to your significant other every week for a year - A Resolution for Romance: The 52 Love Notes Challenge. And I thought to myself, "self, you can do that." And I have. And it's fun, especially finding new places to hide them. And especially when I get notes back.
Except here's the problem. My love notes keep coming out like thank you notes. Thank you for your love. Thank you for the way you look at me. Thank you for always sorting the laundry. Thank you for the beautiful surprise that you are in my life.
But is that really a problem? Isn't expressing gratitude just another way to express love? Thank you notes and love notes often express the same thing, just in different forms.
The world needs more love/gratitude notes. Find someone this week you can write a note to.
Thank you dear internet for giving me a place to share my thoughts. Thank you for sharing yours with me.
I have never been one of those people who has miraculously been healed of an illness; not really. I’ve prayed when I’ve been sick, and I’ve had relief either through medication or sleep, but I’ve never had the illness leave my body instantaneously. Don’t get me wrong! I have been healed in other ways—I’ve been strengthened beyond my capacity to endure emotional and mental burdens that would otherwise have crippled me, and I am profoundly grateful for that divine intervention. There are times I’m sure I wouldn’t be alive today had my prayers not been answered, but this little post isn’t about that kind of burden.
This post is about cramps.
I’m sure we’ve all had them at one time or another. I’m pretty lucky because mine are rarely very bad; mostly just uncomfortable and annoying. I can count on one hand the times when cramps literally had me down for the count, very suddenly and out of nowhere, over the last 20-odd years. Two of those instances, I had the luxury of finding out I couldn’t go to work before I got to work. This last one, I was already at work when it hit. Now listen, I rarely take sick days. The last time I took more than one sick day was last year when I had bronchitis and was coughing my guts out for three days. I might leave work early occasionally when I haven’t had enough sleep or need to see my doctor for something, but I usually tough it out pretty well. One day last week, I couldn’t. I could hardly move. By the time I’d been at work for half an hour, I was suddenly (it's never gradual in this case) in so much pain that I was nauseated, dizzy, shaky, and very pale when I gave up on Advil and looking up pressure points online and limped down the hall to throw up in the bathroom.
I’d been chatting online with my sister and had told her I was shaking and light-headed. She’d responded by reminding me I could take more painkillers and that she’d bring me some if I didn’t have any. I thanked her and told my coworkers I’d be back in a few minutes. I don’t know how long I was gone, but it was more than a few minutes. I remember facing the toilet in that public bathroom, praying that the pain would go away somehow so that I could stay at work and function normally. I kept praying as my body decided to keep my breakfast inside. I kept praying as I washed my hands and saw how pale and shaky I really was. I prayed more as I limped back to my office. I prayed as I saw that my sister had signed off. I kept praying that the pain would recede enough that I could think.
About 20 minutes after I got back to my desk, my sister came into my office with some painkillers and one of those ThermaCare patches for cramps (a GODSEND). She asked how many Advil I’d taken and how long it had been (3, an hour earlier, which should have kicked in but hadn’t made a dent) and suggested I take a fourth immediately and another one if the 4 didn’t take in the next 45 minutes. She told me to put the heat pack on as soon as possible and to keep her posted if it didn’t work, and then she was off to her own job.
I followed her instructions, choking down another pill before limping to the bathroom to put on the heat pack. I huddled over my desk, praying still, and felt that if I could, I should find a place to sleep for even 20 minutes. I talked to my coworker and told her I wasn’t feeling well (she wasn’t surprised, based on how I looked) and needed to lie down for a while but would be back before her meeting in 45 minutes. One of the bathrooms in the building has one of those anterooms with a padded bench, a shelf, a mirror, and a light you can turn off. I made my way there, set my phone to wake me up in 40 minutes, curled up on the bench, and tried to sleep. I never went into a full-blown sleep, but I dozed enough that my body was able to calm down and restore itself so I felt much better by the time my alarm went off. I checked my color in the bathroom mirror, realizing I was much less shaky and that the pain, although still in the background, no longer made me nauseated and dizzy.
I was able to get through the rest of my work day with only a little illness, and thanked my sister again when we met for lunch, which was cottage cheese (lots of protein, which I needed) and French fries we split (carbs, which I also needed). She said it was funny because at the time I told her I was shaking and dizzy from the pain, she had gotten distracted by something and was still online. Normally she wouldn’t have been in her office on the computer just then, but something made her stay. I had prayed for relief, and she had been able to see my need and provide help. If she hadn’t been there when she was, I don’t know if I’d have been able to drive myself home—I’m not a wimp, but I really don’t know if I would have made it all the way home, let alone out of the parking lot—and I know that I wouldn’t have been able to stay at work.
She was in the right place at the right time; angels didn’t come down from Heaven to take away that awful pain (I really feel for those of you with endometriosis!), but the pain was taken away because my sister was paying attention. Was my prayer heard? You bet it was! Was it answered? Definitely. I am so grateful for a Heavenly Father who takes care of me and for a sister who follows promptings.
Remember last time how someone mentioned I was a "young 36" and I thought part of it is that I'm still curious and sometimes silly?
Tonight, I watched "This Old House" with my family and was absolutely delighted at the tools and techniques and innovation they show every episode. I loved hearing them describe how different tools do different jobs. I enjoyed watching them demonstrate an innovative techniqe. I was fascinated by how things were put together. I wanted to learn more about some specific tools and materials!
Tonight, I put sparkly nail polish on my fingernails and am so delighted by it that I keep getting distracted while I type because it's so pretty.
This morning, I was so delighted by a small boy's running and playing that I clapped my hands and grinned like crazy.
This afternoon, I went to my church to check for some equipment I need for my lesson tomorrow, and was delighted to find the library had exactly what I was looking for.
This morning, I met a sweet cocker spaniel/blue heeler cross who licked my hand and I laughed with delight while I stroked her soft ears and watched her walk around the room.
There is SO MUCH in this world that is delightful!
Well, I'm the last one to post for NaBloPoMo, so I suppose it's up to me to wrap up. Or not. Sometimes I'm contrary. :)
One of the things I've noticed about participating in NaBloPoMo, and this blog in general, is that I often don't feel as though I have anything relevant to say. But what am I expected to say? What is relevant to being single that isn't also relevant to being married? I worry about dying alone, but doesn't everyone? As far as I can see, the only appreciable difference between a single person and a married person is relationship status. We both worry about family, money, housing, cars, jobs, church callings, the world around us. I don't have my own children, but I worry about and love my nieces and nephews, my cousins' and friends' children, and the children in my ward. I am one of four "breadwinners" in my household and worry about bills, who will pay what, and what's going to be overdue if we pay another bill on time. I have to clean, I have to put gas in my car, I have to take care of my clothes and health (and, often, the health of those around me), I have to shop and organize finances.
Just because I'm single doesn't mean I have no idea what others go through. I have an idea; whether or not I've gone through that experience has no bearing on how I feel about it or how I can help, right? That's obviously a broad statement that doesn't apply to everyone, but I feel like I am valuable and, because I can't exactly relate, can often offer help or perspective that people who CAN relate don't necessarily have because they're too close to what's happening.
Maybe I AM different. I decided years ago to not turn into one of those "no one understands poor little me" people. It has proven a blessing, even though it is occasionally a struggle to remember to not be one of those people. I credit my change in attitude, and a LOT of faith, with my overall happiness about my life. My life is far from ideal, but I realized the other day, as I was going to bed, that if this is as good as my life will be, it's a pretty great life. I don't have a lot of money, I don't have the best job, I'm in a couple of weird situations, but I have a pretty great life.
Funny how perspective changes things. Thanks for reading us in November. Happy December!
HP and I helped out at a community booth thing at the neighborhood park recently. At our booth we were handing out information, and homemade cookies. After several times I started to find it real funny that the parents wouldn't say "Thank you" when they took a cookie. Instead they'd turn to their child, who also had a cookie, and say "What do you say?" I started to wonder how old I have to be before I can say "What do you say?" when someone does something for me instead of "Thank you."
Last week Jinxie wrote about running a single household. Before she put it up she asked me if running a house by yourself was just as hard, if not harder, than doing it with someone.
My living space is more than twice what it was before. There are two bathrooms where there was just one. There are two living rooms where there was just one. The bedroom is bigger. My last apartment had four rooms (kitchen, living, bathroom, bedroom), and this house has eight. So vacuuming takes a little bit longer, but really once you're cleaning it's just as easy to clean a little more. Plus there's the whole yard thing now too that apartments don't have.
Cooking for one is actually harder than cooking for two. It's easier to cook for more people, which is why I actually cook more now than before. It takes the same number of pots to cook for both of us than it did to cook for just me. And again, if you are already washing one plate it's just that easy to clean one more.
Laundry is a bit more than before. We do five loads every two weeks instead of the three I did before. But again, the increase in effort isn't the same as the increase in tasks.
So what does all this have to do with saying "Thank you"? I lived completely on my own, no roommates, for over 7 years before I got married. I did every single household chore myself every single time it needed to be done. HP lived with male roommates for six of the last nine years since college, and from the stories he told that meant he did a lot more than just clean up after himself. We've both done everything that needed to be done.
While it might seem silly, we both say "Thank you" a whole lot now. Because every time he cleans up the dishes (which is more times than I do because I don't like dishes), I say "Thank you" because it means I won't have to do them later. Every time I go out and water the lawn (because plants are cool!) he says "Thank you" because it means he doesn't have to. I think one of the things we learned being single for so long was just how much it takes to run a house, and so we are both appreciative of what the other does.
The fact that he's at work today while I'm getting vacation laundry done doesn't mean I won't thank him when he gets home from work. Because he's earning money for our house means that's something less for me to worry about. And I'd bet the house that he'll thank me for doing laundry when he gets home because it means he didn't have to worry about it while he was at work. Being single I would've been wondering how many loads of laundry I could finish between getting home from work and needing to get to bed and when I'd manage to cook dinner somewhere in between.
Some older "knowing" couples have told us to "just wait" till he stops offering to help with the dishes or I stop taking out the trash. Just wait until we stop being appreciative of each other? I hope that never happens.
I've never been one who had a ton of girl friends. I had friends, but I never just hung out at the mall with another girl. I certainly was not one who spent hours on the phone talking with someone. I just didn't do the "normal" teenage girl with friends thing. I have a handful of friends, gender has always been heterogeneous, and that's worked out very well.
But in the last year while I still maintain that I don't have "girls" in my life, I do have my women.
These are grown women. They've experienced hardship in their lives. I can't think of any hardship that more than one of them have faced actually, so there's quite the range of hardship going on. They've grown from their experiences. They've been strengthened by them. They've been beautified by them. They are a shoulder to cry on when things go bad because they've cried too. They are a smile to laugh with when things go great because they've laughed too. They are women.
I don't actually happen to live near any of my women at this time. They are spread across this country. But I know that I can always call or email and they will share in whatever emotion I am going through at the time.
Just a side note. But during my one try at therapy several years ago the therapist told me that three of my women weren't good enough friends for me because they were married and I wasn't so they were too busy for me. HA! I was the one with the schedule we were working around. I didn't go back to that therapist. It is because of their range of experiences that differs from mine that I can lean on them.
And I've begun to feel that all women are connected. We all need each other. We need to lean on each other's shoulders and provide our shoulders for others to lean on. We need to laugh together. We need to cry together. Perhaps if we all lived in the same village a hundred years ago we would've been getting together monthly for quilting bees or sock darning parties or what have you. It's that kind of a feeling. And time has simply changed how we do that.
Mother's day is next week. And while I wouldn't classify any of these women as mother figures for me, I want to take time to honor them as well. Because I truly stand among noble women.
This might be a cop-out-because-I-want-to-spend-time-with-my-family post, which I'm sure everyone out there in interweb land will forgive. :)
Thanksgiving is quiet for us this year--two of my siblings and their respective significant others and families live far away--but it's good. I like Thanksgiving because it is a set-aside time to reflect on how truly good I have it. I may not always like my job, but even though I'm keeping my eyes open for something better, I'm glad I have it. Especially after being able to buy groceries for my family for the month and contributing to the utilities. My job doesn't pay nearly as much as I'd like, but it gives me enough to help others who need it. I live in a nice home with people I love. My 15-year-old car runs really well. We have enough food. We're healthy.
We've been blessed in so many ways and it's just nice to remember that every once in a while.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone!
The title of this blog does not refer to me personally--I am tall and sometimes not so sweet :) --but it does refer to the following list, which I may have done because I'm tired and don't have the energy to blog Jinxie's suggested subject. It's a great subject and one I'll definitely enjoy writing about later!
Things I am grateful for today:
