Thankful for Options

I will do my best to keep this from getting icky.

So at a time in the relatively near future, the Gentleman and I have plans that include vows and moving in together.

So, it seemed logical to start figuring out a reliable means of birth control NOW.

(For those of you who feel that using birth control is a violation of God's natural order...I have heard from a representative or two of yours already, but you may join me for tea and I will politely listen until you start either screaming or swearing. This is a tactic I learned from a manager when I worked at a corporate supergiant - except for the tea, that one I must credit to my sister.)

And how very, very thankful I am now, writing that. "Oh yes! I'd forgotten - this was an experiment. To find something that works before we need it! Right, we were doing this because it was possible that something might NOT work." Okay. Okay. I feel better now.

Let us say simply that the very first attempt - utilizing one form of the Pill - did not work.

I may have turned a hair bipolar.

As in, every day, or perhaps every three hours, was a different but very strongly felt emotion.

The Gentleman took this like an absolute champ. Very patient. Very supportive. Very, very patient. Did I mention the patience? Owing to how all-over-the-place I was emotionally, I often didn't notice it at the time, but later I'd look back at the wreckage I'd strewn, and how calm he was, and that he even still sought to spend time with me*, and be floored.

*It is important to consider such things in big picture. Does the Gentleman have a pattern of not enjoying life? No? Okay, so this wasn't some sort of masochism. Just checking.

There was, at one point, a conversation where we were agreeing that there was some wackiness going on, and was this to the point that we considered it unlivable? I was of the theory that if I just worked out more, it would stabilize (let it be noted, I am ALWAYS of the theory that if I just worked out more, [random health problem] would alleviate. Exercise did HUGE things for my emotional imbalances as a teenager, and now I automatically assume that it can solve anything. Somewhere in the back of my mind is a niggling notion that this might not be right, but it hasn't been very noisy yet). Gentleman had patiently listened to everything I described, and asked if I wanted to stop this one yet.

Unfortunately, to me, that felt like giving up. No, no, let's run this one for at least two months, eliminate every influencing factor so we know none of them are causing this. I know the timing's not great, but I think I can manage this if I just exercise more, so I want to go for awhile longer.

I had an instructor once who believed that every nail, board, or block of our "house" in Heaven is determined by an act here on Earth - when we choose good, good materials are used, when we choose shoddy, shoddy materials are used (this was his explanation for why our acts matter if salvation can't be lost). While I've seen absolutely nothing in Scripture to indicate this, I think that if it turns out to be the case, the Gentleman's house is going to have a wall of gold for this last week.

And Monday night, I realized - this is stupid. (This was perhaps following a conversation with HealthMom on Sunday, and Dawn on Friday). And I cannot keep doing this.

And THAT'S when I remembered that this was an experiment. That we were considering different options. And, surprise, we found one that didn't work - which was the point.

There are other options. Well, really, the point is finding one that DOES work. But, the fact that one didn't does not, in fact, mean that *I* have failed. Which is the rock I was breaking myself over before.

There's so much to be thankful for.

Thankful for Perspective

First morning driving in - stayed up an hour later, now knowing that I could wake up half an hour later (yeah, that's my math).

The Gentleman has a practice of calling at about half an hour before they sound the trumpet on the nearby military base - because he knows that I'll be up then - just to say good morning. Every day, at least, every day that he knows that I'm going in to work. (He also ends this, every time, by asking me to be safe at work. I work in a relatively dangerous area. One of the practices of our relationship is that every time we see each other, we know it might be the last time, so we keep that in mind with how we treat each other.)

Partway through this call, I was gratefully thanking him for the use of his car (also, driving in at dawn is fun, and pretty, and feels good), and somewhat apologizing because I couldn't figure out why I was having such a hard time dealing with the alternative.

And, diplomatically, he carefully reminded me of some of the events of Saturday, and that we were both pretty heart-bruised.

And he knows my heart heals in the presence of Jewel and Dawn. Slowly, like a plant under sunlight, prolonged exposure just lifts. There wasn't anything BAD about where I was living before - just an absence of that. Just...nothing. There's nothing there but me. I can't lift myself.

I'd forgotten that we were both still hurting from Saturday, because we'd all been laughing Sunday night, and had a cheerful, "Hey you," conversation Monday morning.

There's so much to be thankful for.

Thankful for Wheels

Jewel's going on a much-needed vacation this week. I'm very glad she's taking the time off - work's been driving us all into the ground lately. We normally ride in together, and so I was thinking of utilizing the place I'd been staying before moving into Jewel's, that I never officially moved out of (the paperwork is a little ridiculous, so I might be waiting until January, but I'd like to free it up for someone else).

I couldn't figure out why this idea had me so badly stressed. It's only for a week, I tried to tell myself. I lived there for months beforehand. I have a much nicer setup than a lot of other people there - there's nothing to complain about. It'll mean I get to sleep a little later in the mornings, and be closer to the gym, and...and why is this stressing me out so bad, anyhow?

Tonight was the three of us - Gentleman, Dawn, and I - playing at word games on the dining table, and I was scampering back and forth betwixt packing and socializing (house rules are that the guys don't go upstairs, which I entirely appreciate, as that's where I live).

And at some point, the Gentleman asked if I needed help, and I spilled that I was stressed about moving back for a week. His ready response was to offer me the use of his car.

And I initially demurred, but one more trip to the laundry room, and how overwhelmed I was feeling, and how much of a load of stress it would be off my shoulders...I came back and timidly asked if it would really be okay and he didn't need it for the week.

Like me, he also hasn't officially moved out. The Gentleman lives with Corpsmentor's family - by irony, they're one exit away from where I work, and Jewel's house is one exit away from where the Gentleman works. If Jewel didn't leave at such an early hour, we'd be crossing paths (well, on a divided freeway) every morning. But, living with Corpsmentor does require the use of a vehicle. And we're both agreed that we grow a lot more in the presence of these friends than alone. The one key difference - one of the reasons to live with Corpsmentor is to get extra hangout time and experience with the kids. He doesn't get a lot of sleep there, so he'll usually still take one night or two back at the old place.

But, if I had the use of his car for the week, I could still be living at Jewel's.

And with that, a terrific load of stress came off. Living at Jewel's is a good place to be.

There's so much to be thankful for.

Thankful for Finding Humor

So, we'll call one of the guys I work with, "Mike." His pride and joy is his truck.

Mike is one of several people from our team who decided to get engaged within a few months of returning from our most recent trip around the world. About a month after this, he and his fiance learned that they were expecting a new little one. That was worth a few weeks of freakout, and all of us learned that there probably is no good way to ask the person you love for a paternity test.

If there is, please, someone share.




Last night, Mike was down in Tacoma visiting his mom. Mike doesn't like that his mom lives in Tacoma; he thinks it's a bad neighborhood. The fact that his truck was broken into and pretty much every item of value removed while it was sitting in the lot for her apartment complex did nothing to improve his estimation of the city.

I actually had never seen Mike that mad before. I'd seen him flat-scared, I'd seen him burned, I'd seen him hoping the bad fallout from some recent mistake would land somewhere else - we see all of these when we go on deployment with people. But, when he showed up for work this morning, he was so mad he just told me he couldn't talk around me.

(This is twofold. One is that most of the guys have a practice of keeping their language clean in my presence - I never asked for this, but I do appreciate it. The other is that Mike has some views about the people living in this neighborhood that, if vocalized, would get him fired in a very bad way. Our employer does not take kindly to anything that sounds like racism.)



Mike came in carrying a small paper bag - the one article of value not taken by the thieves. At the time, I wasn't at all surprised - looking at the bag, I had guessed that it held a breakfast pastry. Turns out, that was actually his and his fiance's wedding bands - he'd brought them down to show his mom when he visited her.

And by the end of our pre-work morning meeting, Mike was actually laughing again, cheerfully complaining because the thieves hadn't had the decency to clean all the trash out of his car. "If you're going to rip me off, at least be respectful about it!"

And while that might sound a little crazy, that's actually how we deal with a lot of crud. We know we're lower down on the ladder, and a lot of rough stuff rolls down to us. We know that we're in a position of service, and sometimes serving is really hard. You don't find a lot of, "Look on the bright side!" or, "Be thankful for the dirt!" Not seriously, anyway. But there's a really common theme to find humor in a bad situation - fully acknowledging that the situation is unwanted, but it's here anyways, we can't do anything about it, so let's make fun of it!

And somehow, I'm really thankful that we've learned how to do that.

There's so much to be thankful for.

Thankful for a Piano

Today, I was at the hospital for something pretty routine (not actually hospital-worthy, but the nature of my health insurance is that they will pay for everything as long as I go where they tell me to, and so they would rather I go to Hospital N for routine stuff than a doctor's office). Afterwards, waiting for Viking, who has gone to the next town to refuel the Rumpled Ranger.

There is a piano.

The beautiful, big hospital in the town where I grew up has three of these. They are placed in very open locations - my favorite is a Steinway in a rather intimate (by comparison) lounge with a pretty wall-fountain. Another is in this big marble tower-room that is cold and impressive - like if someone was inspired to build a cloister modeled after a well, and all they had to work with was marble. Playing there, everything echoes fantastically throughout the underground network. The most well-known is in a very big, very open, VERY well-trafficked central location in the hospital, and I am such a mouse that I've only played on that one once. Perhaps twice.

Typically, this is my thing. After giving blood, I stroll across the street and play on the Steinway for about an hour or so, just long enough to make sure I'm okay to drive again. Sometimes when I'm stressed and downtown late at night - if you know the underground walkways, you can almost always find a way to where you want to be in it - I'll go and play on the Steinway. That lounge is one of my favorite places in the city - it's set underground, but one side opens to a courtyard, so it's a two-story window letting in all kinds of light, but below the public eyes, and there are usually a few people on the couches and chairs who are pleased by a bit of music.

The understanding with each piano is that they are gifts to the people, for the benefit of the people. Music is healing. If you are able to play, and you can treat the gift with care, you are welcome to play.

And there is a grand on the ground floor of Hospital N.

Interestingly, I didn't really think about it at the time, but the construction of Hospital N, the main building is three stories, but they're all reached by an open staircase - so the music from the piano will flow down the corridors a bit on all levels.

I love to play. I am very rusty. We don't take pianos when we go around the world, and I have yet to establish regular access to one here in Washington. But there's something to be said for muscle memory.

And so, I quietly asked the other man waiting if it would disturb him if I played, and then quietly removed the cover and sat down.

And I played.

There was a time when my life was oriented around performance. I was bouncing off the walls, high-energy, brilliant smile when I was onstage. I lived for the energy coming off the audience, for the shared emotion of a well-formed creation, that had taken discipline, diligence, and passion to put together.

I don't know when that changed. Now I'm not much concerned with the presence of an audience. Now I just like to play, to make music. Fingering my way through a couple chords on a friend's guitar when we meet before work to pray each morning. The Gentleman sent me a harmonica within the first month of us leaving, just in regards to how much I missed making music and it was something I could have in my pocket and play with when there was no one around. I'm more likely to be making some kind of music, even just whistling or singing, when no one's paying attention. More often than not, I'M not paying attention.

One of the conversations that stuck fast in my mind was a day when a few of us friends were talking while watching a movie, and I don't remember who said what, but I answered it with, "Yeah, I don't think I really count as that anymore - I haven't picked up my instrument in YEARS."
The Gentleman was surprised, and turned to look directly at me. He has a tone that comes in when he's speaking what he absolutely believes to be true. "No - you're a musician."

Just simply stating what he had seen, what he knew to be true. The Gentleman values music, even treasures it as something that enriches life and wasn't part of his growing-up. I think I value mountains for a similar reason.

And playing the piano unlocked something. Hard to describe, but in the mix of twenty-something, "Oh, what am I ever going to do with my life, what am I good at, where should I go?" was the affirmation - this resonates with something of who I am.

It wasn't perfect. I messed up a few times. One song I had to abort halfway through because I could NOT remember one of the chord changes. But when I stopped, three stories over my head, I heard enthusiastic applause. Glanced up to see a small band of kids, who'd clustered out on the balcony to watch.

It might have been my rustiest time playing yet, and I stopped playing for applause a few years ago. I think it's that it was so unexpected, and so unneeded - I was actually surprised, in a very happy way.

And I got to play again.

There's so much to be thankful for.

Viking Thanks

This isn't any one event from today, but more the last year.

This is my last day seeing Viking for awhile. I have one of those 60-hour shifts, so I'll actually miss her leaving - she's going to go spend a week with her family, and then headed to Italy for two years.

Viking is the woman who knows me best from the last two years, by virtue of us having spent the most time together. We have almost completely different backstories (realized Tuesday that she and the Gentleman have almost identical backstories, actually), and through two very different roads came out at a point where we were basically the same person. Mostly, we have the same spiritual struggles, a similar approach to males and whimsy...it's really remarkable how much we find we have in common.

Most of our family doesn't see this, but that may also be because Viking and I look almost nothing alike. She's fashioned rather like Merida and I'm a bit like Belle.

Even as relaxed as I am with the Gentleman, and everything he's seen in my personality, there's a level of sheer goofiness and vulnerability that I only have with Viking (likely because of the whole female thing - there is some factor of, when one is interested in having an attractive man find one attractive, one does not in his presence belt out selections from "3-2-1 Penguins!" in a tiny German hamster voice).

Bob Cratchit said at the dinner table, "It's all right, children. Life is a series of meetings and partings." While sentimental, I do think it's very possible to have had two very good (and challenging, and frustrating, and cry-on-your-shoulder...oh, yeah, we went through two deployments together) years, and to be thankful for those two years at the time of parting, and be happy for your friend as she heads off to new adventures on the other side of the world.

And I'm happy to have today with her.

(She would know this, because in honor of the occasion, I created, in the shower, a special medley, setting the lyrics from Cruella de Vil to the melody of Rum Tum Tugger, interspersed with bits of a hyper-syncopated Somewhere Over the Rainbow. The last month together has been a flair of all the things that I only bring out around her, taken to the max. She's just thrilled. :D )

There's so much to be thankful for.

Sander Thanks

My current project involves addressing a corrosion problem on an awful lot of steel.

After we blast off the paint where rust has eaten through, we then sand the metal to get as much rust as possible off it before we prime and paint again. Very straightforward concept. Rust is metal-cancer.

At one point, I am working with a disc-sander* about six inches wide, feathering an edge on the underside of a railing, so that there is a smooth transition from the height of the paint we left on there to the bare metal - hopefully this means that it will STAY smooth when we repaint, so weather and corrosion-gremlins won't find a good spot to get their teeth locked in. 'cause that's really how corrosion happens.

*Pneumatically-powered, spins a disc of hard sandpaper very fast. Throws tiny shards of glowing-hot metal and oil-based paint dust at my face and hair, which is why I wear my hard hat and a full-masked respirator.




When I'm focused on a task like this, I really only have the ability to think about four things at once, not the usual seven or eight. So, I'm focused on my footing on the scaffolding. I'm focused on holding myself half-upside-down over this railing, maintaining the necessary angle to reach this stuff. I'm focused on making sure my safety gear stays with me and doesn't fall eight stories (which wouldn't be bad, just mean that I'd have to stop what I'm doing and clamber out of the scaffolding and trot down 8 stories to retrieve it), and most of all I'm very focused on that delicate little slope I'm carefully spreading through four layers of paint.

I'm not at all focused on the OTHER side of the sander disc. The one away from the railing. Or my wrist's proximity to it.

And then suddenly, my attention is seized, and the other three are all forgotten, as I move my wrist just a hair too close to the spinning disc, and open up a slash in my forearm to fill with paint dust and tiny shards of metal.

Hrm.

This is different.

But, going off to wash it out (helpfully, the nearest running water is only twelve stories down and a quarter-mile away), it's actually only about a quarter-second's worth of damage. Considering everything that runs through one's forearm/wrist there, this could have been a terribly exciting day - really, this just stings a lot.

So today, I'm very, very thankful for pain, because the surprise of unexpected pain caused me to release the hold I had on the sander, and as a result it didn't go any deeper. This will hopefully heal up in a week or two.

There's so much to be thankful for.