I had set the alarm for 7 because on Saturday’s the Bikram class is at 8:30. I woke up at 6:30 am, a little later than usual, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse washed my dishes from last night, and drank my two cups of water. I left for Bikram.
After the class, as I drove down the street away from the studio, I heard this horrible sound. It took me a few minutes to figure out it was coming from the front of my car, very possibly the tire. I would be passing Costco on the way home; I would just stop off there to get it checked.
First, I stopped off at Kona Bay Books, our local used bookstore, which is right around the corner from the studio. The store is the size of a grocery store with rows and rows of books. I was looking for books for my student to read, not me to use with her but for her own enjoyment. While there are a few remaining problems, phonics rules she forgets, and easy sight words that reverse on her, with the use of context clues she should be able to function pretty close to grade level by the end of the summer – if she continues to demand that the sentences she reads make sense. The need to use context clues to figure out how to pronounce a word in English is true for all of us, even the most competent reader.
While I was there, I checked the left front of the car to see where that sound was coming from. A saw something black hanging down from the inside fender and striking the tire. It was just a piece of plastic, but I thought it would do damage to the brand new tire.
I went to Safeway next. I picked up a Marie Callender’s chicken pot pie, a whole wheat baguette and a package of salad.
As planned, I stopped off at the Costco Tire Center. I went directly to the bays and spoke to one of the mechanics. He was busy and had another man check out my problem. He said the plastic flap was something that covers the inside of the fender, preventing water from getting in. He just snapped it back into place. There was still a little piece hanging out, but I didn’t have to deal with that sound anymore.
At first, I thought the mechanic at Costco had caused the problem when he installed the four new tires the other day. But as I drove home and made a right turn, I heard a familiar sound, one I heard months ago. Ah, so that was the problem. I thought it had something to do with the shocks and had asked my regular mechanic to check on them. He said they were fine. But that left me wondering what the problem was. Now, I know. Costco is definitely not responsible.
Driving home, I dealt with more grief. It feels like the flaking off of the outer shell is over. Now, patches are being ripped off from my innards. It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s just that the grief is in a deeper place in me.
When I got home, I unloaded the car and made my Juice Plus smoothie, which I hadn’t had time to do this morning because I realized too late that it needed to be done. I boiled 2 kettles for the weeds, played a lot of FreeCell, and sent out Sunday’s blog. I took my shower, did MELT for my feet, and used the Tiger Tail. Then I did some more work on the blog.
I had that thick feeling in my head that makes me tired. Since I was told that I suffer from silent migraines, as my mother did, I’m more aware of them. What are silent migraines? That was my question when my mother told me about them. I thought, “How can a migraine be silent? The people I know who have them have splitting headaches, nausea, and can hardly function.” But no. There is such a thing as migraines that have none of those symptoms. I did a little research. These migraines are rare and occur in women more than men. They are without headaches, but they usually are accompanied by visual distortions and nausea. Now, I only experience visual distortion once. I saw a pattern, I think it’s called an aura, and the pattern blocked my vision. I have periodically experienced mild nausea. I use to joke with Mike that I thought I was pregnant. Since I was well beyond menopause, that would have been a good trick, but then my name is Elizabeth.
I did more work on the blog while I listened to my Saturday NPR shows. I was inspired to start reading Mike’s book. It was exciting to read his words. His book is about the diaconate. One way or another, I’m going to make sure this book gets out there.
I have no idea why he didn’t ask me to read his work. I always gave him what I wrote for the book I’m writing for him to evaluate for clarity and edit for grammar. He gave great feedback, and it allowed him to get to know my thinking better. He even told me that he got a deeper understanding of my work by editing the chapters. I never asked to read what he wrote. He never asked to read what I wrote.
When we first got together, he was definitely the better writer. He had had more individual instruction due to professors who took an interest in him. He helped me to become a better writer, a much clearer writer, one who became considerate of my readers.
On the other hand, he may have been afraid to have me read what he wrote because I didn’t like his homilies and refused to go to his bible study classes. My problem wasn’t with what he said, it was having my’ husband,’ who was inclined to lecture, lecturing me from the pulpit, especially since our conversational skills were not well developed.
It makes me so sad to read his book. I have so many questions. There is so much more that we had to learn about each other. I’m pretty open. Mike also knew that I was interested in other people. A conversation is a form of improvisation. Mike wasn’t good at that in an unstructured context. We were working toward it. On my part, becoming more accepting that this was a difficult skill for him instead of allowing my buttons to be pushed; on his part, trying more. We were still in the early stages. I do hope that he knew I was interested in what he thought.
I have mentioned before the line from TS Elliott’s play, The Cocktail Party, in which he says something on the order of, “Always greet your loved ones as strangers every day.” I know that I feel that way about myself. I discover hidden parts, despite being with myself 24/7. I find the human condition fascinating. There is always more to learn. I can’t imagine why people become bored with relationships.
I can imagine why people feel trapped. If I had married a man who didn’t like affection, I would have been in some version of hell. On the other hand, a partner who had no tolerance for affection would have considered me his vision of hell. Each to his own. Mike and I had enough overlap of needs and likes and dislikes to build a satisfying relationship. While Mike didn’t share my interest in exploring the human condition with everyone he met, he had his own way of pursuing that interest: through books and the counseling he offered to others. He served me well at times in that capacity. God, I loved him. It hurts my heart that he’s not here smiling at me in delight in his love for me and mine for him. It’s only taken me two months and 9 days to get to this point. Let’s see where we go from here.
I did my evening routine, dinner, TV, cataloging. Then I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.
No comments:
Post a Comment