though we take turns with the existential questions of life, he is the one who asks most of the ones – aloud – that are -sometimes annoyingly – foggy. the kinds of questions that require lengthy, long-winded, circular, pondering dissertations, steeped-in-wisdom-devoid-of-wisdom yada-yada, first-person-experience tales, prolonged dialogue, yin-yanging polar opinions, all the reddiwip of solid answers.
i find myself – in these moments – thinking of the practical, the reassuringly tactile, the basic. the homemade chicken soup.
he invariably joins in. dogga cannot just watch us dance. he stands on his strong aussie legs and joins with us. it is utterly one of the sweetest things. he’s like that with hugs, too. he wants to be a part of it.
since we love to dance together – even a few steps here and there – he has plenty of opportunities to watch (and join). we dance in the front yard, on the back deck, in the living room, in the kitchen. there is nothing like a slow dance to (literally) slow you down, tune you inside, make you feel like everything-is-going-to-be-ok in the world. maybe that’s why we’ve always danced together – from the very beginning.
and to think that dogdog is right there, with us, makes me realize that – actually – he must love when we dance.
i am a list person. paper and pencils and pens. lists.
i love the crinkly sound paper makes when there’s a lot written on it and the texture of lined looseleaf scrawled with copious notes in fine point pen. tactile heaven. i’ve tried to keep my grocery list on the phone, but the phone and i struggle in the store together when the list tries disappearing as i delete items i purchase. paper never pushes back that way.
our lists-of-things-to-do ebbs and flows like the tide. eh. not really. it’s not quite that poetic. our lists-of-things-to-do generally flows – like the drains in basements after torrential rains without the benefit of a sump pump.
lists seem to propagate themselves, adding, adding, adding. perhaps this is so we always have a feeling of accomplishment and future goals set. yes, i’m sure that’s why.
my favorite thing to do – when it comes to lists – is cross things off. with an old spiral notebook from a stack of the girl’s and the boy’s elementary, junior high, high school leftovers, i keep track of the stuff-i/we-need-to-do. i am not hesitant in the least bit to add something we have done that is not on the list simply to be able to cross it off. it’s a visceral reward. everyone gets credit for everything. even the tiniest of chores.
in the meanwhile, after any week that you could call a helluva week, it would seem prudent to add “nap” to the list. surely, one would have no problem crossing that off.
about dessert, my sweet momma always said, “it’ll slide down and fill in the crevices!!!” yes, yes, the perfect way to feel fulfilled for a momma who had feeding-people as one of her love languages.
we try not to overeat. we try to make healthy choices. we try to maintain a good dietary balance of fruits and vegetables, lean meats, grains, nuts, blahblahblah. but, sometimes, we have had just a littletoomuch cheese and crackers for snacktime, a littletoomuch wine at happy hour, a littletoomuch chicken soup at dinner and we are inordinately – like thanksgiving’s troubled tale – stuffed.
we try to take a walk in these moments. try to work off the excess. try to believe we will make better decisions next time. yadayadayada.
and then, one of us remembers.
that in recent weeks – we succumbed to the talenti frozen nondairy sorbetto – and that it is sitting patiently awaiting us in our freezer – the one that occasionally forgets it’s a freezer and leaks water onto the floor. a little somethin’ sweet.
the food-guilt is not as powerful as the sorbetto-yearning here, i guess, so we succumb.
because a little coffee sorbetto will merely slide down and fill in the crevices.
yes, yes…we are privy to (read: subjected to) the veryvery best of our partners. in every moment of every day. up close and personal. yup.
there’s not much to be said here. ya know how they say diet plays into everything, into every arena of your life, how it protects you against disease, how garlic and onions are heart-protective superfoods, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?
well, some things – in relationship and diet and everynowandthen-halitosis – must be taken with a grain of salt, i guess – or maybe a little distance – or maybe a face mask.
most definitely with a nod to tactful….here’s some advice i just read off a dental site: “don’t be too harsh. the most important thing to remember about this conversation is that it’s coming from a place of love, and that the bad breath isn’t a malicious act.“
sometimes we get carried away. we think we are still – say – in our thirties – or maybe forties – eh, even our fifties – and we get in littlebabyscion and just driiiiive. without stopping. we love a good roadtrip!
this is no longer what it used to be.
it USED to be that we could drive looongdistance without getting out to stretch. it USED to be that we could drive looongdistance and sip on venti coffees to our heart’s content. it USED to be that we could drive looongdistance without finding restrooms. it USED to be that we’d drive looongdistance and snack our way across the country. it USED to be that we could blithely hop out of the vehicle at any point and skip around the rest area. it USED to be that we could drive late into the wee hours of the night and still be wide awake. it USED to be we could drive 17 or 19 hours in a day. it USED to be that we were intrepid.
this is no longer what it used to be.
now, we drive, still snacking our way across the country because some things never change. but after about two hours we stop. we locate a restroom. we slooowly peel ourselves off the seat of the car and unbend our bentbodies. we stretch, groaning. we ponder walking away from the car. maybe we get a lesssssliquid espresso. we study google maps. we calculate our next stop. we check on when the sun is setting. we take a deep breath. we drive again. and repeat. and we love it! even now.
and in the middle of the night – him sleeping like a baby and snoring like a freight train – while i am sitting there, wide awake, gazing adoringly at his smug-sweet-sleeping-snoring face – as much as i remind myself my insomnia is not his fault – it is neither his joy or his angst – it is not his to own or relinquish – it is not his to have and to hold – he tends to bug me just the teensiest-tiniest-minutest-nanoscopicest-infinitesimalest-bit.
it shocks us every time we are out. at the grocery store, at a department store or boutique, at a restaurant. the prices!
though we love a wonderful epicurean experience just like the next person, we rarely have them out in cafes or eateries. the cost of eating out and a generous tip equals quite a few groceries for us. so instead, we end up creating our own dining experiences – at our kitchen table or in the sunroom under happy lights or out on the deck or somewhere else at our pop-up table and stools. we eat as healthy as we can and enjoy a glass of wine with dinner when we can. nothing fancy.
because we believe it’s not really about the food. it’s about being together.
i remember when we were on the whole30 diet. we’d pass a tray full of scrumptious brownies and be taunted by their deliciousness. ultimately – because brownies are not on the whole30 – we’d walk on. and the thing we’d remember is that the brownie experience would have only been about five minutes of food bliss.
in paris – with fabulous cuisine and bistros at every turn – we picnicked at parks and on cathedral steps with baguettes and cheese, olives and tiny salads, glasses of wine. neither of us felt gypped. instead, it was an experience rich with blissful moments, immersed in the city.
and so it’s a little bit like that with eating out for us.
we either need to get the side salad and bread or we just need to find our food bliss somewhere else.
predatory-lending student loans. it’s not like i haven’t written about this before, most notably from a post called “sense?” on october 24, 2022:
“predatory lending in the student loan arena began around 2000. the arrow of the poison bow hit david in graduate school. it has not let go since. navient – one of the big student loan lenders – took part in subprime loans, private loans, misrepresented loans, aggressive forbearance-steering, sloppy accounting, the list goes on. and people’s lives – real people in the real world trying to make a real living and pay off real debt – have been skewered forever. crushing debt…in story after story in which interest is principalized, in which families aren’t given income-driven options, in which the debt rises instead of falls even as diligent efforts are made to pay down this farce of lending.”
and so now – after enormous governmental party-line fights to help-no!-help-no! we are back there, facing down a ridiculously ballooned forbearance-steered-misrepresented-principalized-interest-unforgiven set of loans.
we’ve consolidated, paid thousands extra when we could, applied for limited pslf and hope the idr count catches up. i have read student loan op-eds, student loan announcements, student loan laws, hundreds of student loan articles. i’ve placed phone calls and have more-to-dial on my list-of-things-to-do.
and the billing statement arrived.
there’s not much more deflating than treading water when the shore isn’t visible.
and we aren’t the only ones.
we have been the recipients of snarky comments about responsibility and snide remarks about artists and money-budgets. we have been sneered at and scoffed at. mostly by people who haven’t asked any questions – a recurring theme – by people who don’t understand – nor want to understand – what has actually happened in the warped world of student lending.
and we aren’t the only ones.
right now, the statement says we’ll pay david’s loans off in 2048 with an additional $40,000+ in more interest. but “student loans were never meant to be a life sentence,” (united states secretary of education miguel cardona.) we will be 87 and 89 in 2048.
this isn’t a funny SMACK-DAB. it’s not touching or poignant. but it is real. it is reality for millions of people victimized by dysfunctional practices – student loan malpractice – the government should have overseen.
his amber eyes are mesmerizing. his double coat of hair is as beautiful as it is plentiful. his heart is huge and his sensitivity is tuned in. his quirks are numerous and his dedication is steadfast. he is always present and only rests when he feels like he is finally off-duty at 8:30, his self-chosen bedtime. he’s taught us more than i could possibly write about.
he’s been central since he arrived. in everything. it’s one of those miracles that he’s here – with us. it’s one of those time-warpy things we realize it’s been ten years. already. and so soon.
what our dogga doesn’t realize, maybe, is that he is our whole world just as much as we are his. samesies.
reverse threading 