Still Recovering from the Weekend

Finishing the Book

A photo essay of the weekend, from Herself.

This past weekend, Beloved Husband, Cherished Friend, and I all met at a regional campground for a bit of camping. It was a much-needed respite from Everything. (I was especially grateful that Cherished Friend made the trip, for his travel time was twice mine, and I worried that we were inconveniencing him by choosing a destination that was farther away for him. It always means a great deal to me when he travels for these Adventures.) 

The weather, though a bit hot, was rather pleasant,

especially in the morning and the evening.

I don't know whether New Old Dog had ever been camping before, but he took to it quite well.

He had a nap on my sleeping bag,

though he had a foldable crate for nighttime.

Beloved Husband spent several hours one day fishing in the nearby lake. He enjoys fishing, and I am glad to see him spending time doing the things he enjoys.

A wee vehicle and an inflatable kayak make for a good time.

We even had a small campfire, just for good measure.

Just for ambience.

The last day, Beloved Husband left first -- he and his wee vehicle were taking the back roads home -- and a bit later, Cherished Friend left as well. And so the small dogs and I spent an extra hour and a half, sitting on our chair under a tree, while I finished my book. The campground was nearly empty, the breeze was light, and the birds were singing. It was very restful. I should do that more often.

Lumpy

Tiny Dog sits on New Old Dog. He does not seem to mind, though.

Giving and Expectation

Herself speaks. 

There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. - Kahlil Gibran

A long time ago in college, before I began dating Beloved Husband, I dated a guy whom I'll call Orion. Orion was a nice fellow. (And, side note, still is -- I saw him at Beloved Husband's college reunion last year, and it was both delightful and meaningful to catch up with Orion and to hear about his life since graduation.) We dated off-and-on for quite some time.

At one point while Orion and I were dating, there was an opportunity to attend a semi-formal dance. I had a small part-time job on campus that gave me a bit of extra pocket money, and so as a gift for Orion, I purchased a shirt and tie for him to wear for the occasion.

It was not until much later that I realized that my present to him had been, in fact, problematic: he told me that his mother suggested that I was trying to "buy him" with the gift. I was horrified. And perplexed.

This was my first real introduction to the concept of quid pro quo: I learned that sometimes, people give gifts and favors and such with an expectation of something in return.

I hadn't expected anything. I had thought it would make him happy, and enjoy the dance more, to have the shirt and tie.

It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving. - Kahlil Gibran

I have always liked to take care of things for other people, to give them small things I think they will enjoy, to be of service. It is hard for me to understand that my willingness to do so might be misconstrued as an attempt to manipulate others, or to make others feel indebted to me. Yet this is apparently a common occurrence in society: we see it in film and on television (and occasionally, in real life, too), in the form of men who buy women dinner or gifts, and expect sexual activity in return.

I cannot imagine thinking this way.

I have been extraordinarily blessed, in that those closest to me do not expect quid pro quo. I cannot participate in that type of expectation. And fortunately, I do not have to do so.

My Important People. They are such lovely People. I am glad they allow me to give to them.

See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. 
For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father. - Kahlil Gibran

Toasted

Offspring the First commented: He looks like a panini on a grill.

Toasty!

Laundry

Tiny Dog climbed from my lap straight onto the pile of laundry. 

She's a big help with the household chores. 

Easter Highway

Someone in the highway department was having a fine time with the highway signs for Easter.

"HIPPETY HOP SAFELY DOWN THE ROAD."

"EVERY BUNNY DRIVE EGG-CELLENT"

Back Yard at Twilight

Torus

Herself speaks.

The dental hygienist peered into my mouth and commented, That protrusion is a bit sharp. Does it bother you?

Bother me? I'd never even noticed it before. Now, though, I keep thinking about it. I am resisting looking at it/poking it with my tongue, because ew.

Apparently I have oral tori -- mandibular tori (torus mandibularis), to be exact. (If you're inclined, you can read about them here, or here.) Kind of interesting, although if you are at all squeamish about up-close photographs of the inside of a person's mouth, you might want not want to run a google search on oral tori.

Part of the cause is bruxism: I grind/clench my teeth at night. I've done so since I was very small -- I remember when I was very young, I would occasionally be jolted awake by my mother's voice announcing crankily to me, YOU ARE GRINDING YOUR TEETH. I can only imagine how annoying it must have been for her, and how very loud it must have been, considering that my bedroom was across the hall from the master bedroom and I slept with my door closed. Even Wikipedia notes: A grinding or tapping noise during sleep, sometimes detected by a partner or a parent. This noise can be surprisingly loud and unpleasant, and can wake a sleeping partner. Yikes.

I have been aware of the issue, and have noted that its severity has waxed and waned over my adult years. Right now, I am aware that it is increasing, since I occasionally wake up with my teeth or jaw feeling sore or tight.

I've invested in one type of over-the-counter mouthguard, and molded it to my teeth. (That was quite a gag-worthy process.) I am going to try it tonight and see how it goes. I'm not overly optimistic - I might need to try several different types before I get it right. We shall see.

I am reminded of one of my grandfathers, and his pithy witticisms about teeth:

Be true to your teeth, or they'll be false to you!
and
Ignore your teeth, and they'll go away!

I hadn't thought about Grandpa J.'s sayings in a long time. He was a funny little man. I hope you are resting peacefully, Grandpa. I am thinking of you.

She Likes Him More Than She'll Admit

The People You Choose

The older I get, the more I realize the value of privacy, of cultivating your circle and only letting certain people in. You can be open, honest, and real while still understanding not everyone deserves a seat at the table of your life. 
- (from the internet)

I do not make friends easily -- I find most people to be unfathomable. While I have, over time, learned the intricacies of small talk and idle conversation, I find such talk tiring and can only stand it in small portions. I seek more from those important to me.

Somehow over these years, I have miraculously made the right choices in building my circle. It is a small circle indeed, but it is made of the highest quality of person I could possibly have found. Lucky am I.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. 

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Our Lady

The cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris burned today.

There aren't really any words to describe the horror of watching the conflagration on the news. Hundreds of years of history burning, burning. What would be lost? What will be left? There was concern that the towers would be destroyed if the bells fell. Mercifully, though, the towers appear to have remained intact, although the spire and the roof are destroyed. The fate of the historic organ is still unknown. The most cherished religious artefacts were saved through the aid of a human chain. Well done, people of the human chain. You give us hope for humanity.

It is interesting how the handful of small griefs that I carry around with me, have impacted my reaction to the devastation of Notre Dame. On the one hand, I may only have the strength to bear my own internal trifling sorrows, because the enormousness of this historical, impersonal-to-me tragedy seems too big to contemplate fully. Yet on the other hand, I can cry for Notre Dame, even as my eyes remain dry for my minuscule personal heartaches.

Why is the burning of the cathedral the tipping point for tears? Is it only safe to cry for the losses of humanity?

 All I can see right now is the orange glow of the cathedral's flames.

God bless. Let us see what dawn's light brings.

Words

Words in the heart cannot be taken.  

- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

There

Can miles truly separate you from friends?  If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?  - Richard Bach

Cheese Alert!

Hoping for handouts.

Six Years Ago

Grassy ottoman-shaped dog.

He did have such wonderful eyebrows. 

Good boy.

Blooming Yellow

Batty Batty Bat

I am quite fond of bats. Behold this wee little bat, being rescued from an unsafe place. SO SMALL. SO ADORABLE. Be safe, wee little bat!

Picture copyright 2018, 2019, Mediocria Firma. 

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Sunshine

Sunshine is good on old bones. 

Twenty-six (plus one)

We took Offspring the First out to dinner today, the day after her twenty-sixth birthday.  She readily donned the unicorn headband of celebration for the event. So funny. 

She is a lovely, kind, bright, shining soul. Happy birthday, Offspring the First - we wish all good things for you, always.

Proximity Alert

Herself speaks.

Let's talk about affectionate touch. And let's be clear: not sexual, but affectionate.

affectionate [uh-fek-shuh-nit] adjective:  showing, indicating, or characterized by affection or love; fondly tender

Recently, we had visitors at the house. Both dogs were delighted to have additional laps in which to sit. New Old Dog likes very much to sit nearby to, or on, a person. He enjoys affectionate touch. 

I am not always the same way, though.

One of our visitors was someone whom I do not like to touch me. There are some reasons there, but I won't unpack them here. Suffice it to say, that is just the way it is. Interestingly, this person appears to be quite touch-y toward me. It could be a natural outcropping of a touch-y personality (although in my assessment, the person does not seem to touch other people in the same way as they touch me). Or perhaps the person deliberately touches me because they know I do not like to be touched (it has been mentioned directly and specifically to them). I'm hesitant to attribute malignant intent, but it is not outside the realm of possibility.

Or perhaps there is something else going on. Who knows? I have not exerted the mental energy to try to figure out what the full situation is there. I'm just working on handling the situation.

The question arises: when does one person's desire to touch another person in an affectionate way, trump the other person's desire not to be touched?

I think: it never does. The person should find another way to show affection.

It's tricky, to be sure. Some people are naturally reserved and seem not to want to be touched very much. (Three people spring to mind: Offspring the First, Offspring the Second, and Cherished Friend.) Other people seem to enjoy frequent physical affection. (Offspring the Third, for example.) It is all quite individualized.

I work very hard to respect others' boundaries, and to look for signs of discomfort (proximity alert!) that might indicate I am invading someone's personal space. I admit that I stifle myself quite a bit and do not reach out a hand as often as I would like -- because, as I said above, a person's desire not to be touched should be paramount. And then I wonder, am I in fact depriving them of a welcome affectionate touch, out of concern that it will be unwelcome? I doubt myself and my ability to judge what might be acceptable to other people, in part because I cannot see clearly past my desire to show affection with a touch of a hand.

I might think too much about this.

I wish this were easier.

I'll keep working at it.

TGIF

Good Morning, Buddy!

Still Just As Important

Old Face