A couple of Christmases ago my brother was discussing the issue of soul mates and how one goes about finding one. Ever since that conversation I have thought about the term “soul mate” off and on when my mind wanders. To be logical and pragmatic, the term does not exist in any holy book that I know of, and I think it might be a term of fairly recent origin. As far as I can tell in my research on the matter, the term “soul mate” is a purely literary creation. It has been used to describe a romantic bond between two people that goes beyond the usual earthly limits. I am very much a romantic at heart, and I don’t use the term very often, if at all. Still, if I want to wax poetic, I will admit I believe my husband to be my soul mate. I see our connection as going way beyond the mere 32 years we’ve known each other.
We grew up within the same general vicinity. Our parents frequented the same grocery stores (Bud’s Foodliner), the same drive-in theaters (the Varsity on Culebra Rd.), the same churches (Holy Family and Holy Rosary). Our family had the same taste in fast foods, e.g., Church’s Fried Chicken (hands down over KFC), Whopper Burger (later called Burger Boy), and neither of us were ever taken to Shakey’s Pizza in its heyday in San Antonio. Given these facts, I have assumed that our paths probably crossed once in a while when we were children. The poetic side of me imagines us as two little kids running around our mothers as they shopped in the same grocery store. The fact is, I think we were a part of each others’ lives before we were actually in each other’s lives.
The pragmatic part of me, however, knows that any successful relationship takes a lot of work and investment of time, talent, treasure, running persiflage, and the occasional ability to self deprecate. Soul mates are more the result of taking what you have and working to make it better, rather than a hunting for and finally finding a ready-made, out-the-door work of existing perfection.
I’m feeling awful due to postoperative pain and discomfort at the moment. I look my worst for now. My husband is working a whole lot, and because of my current commitment to eating healthy and giving up the booze, we stay home for meals at the moment. We are homebodies for the most part. Partying and opportunities for inebriation are not at the top of our priority list for now. It’s a busy and productive time for us both. It sounds dull, I’m sure, to those with more exciting expectations of life, but I love my life. I love my life with my husband. I love my life inside my house. I am happier than a clam. If I could freeze my life exactly like it is right now and lock it away in a snow globe, I would shake it and stare at it a lot.
My soul mate is in the other room working like a banshee, my postoperative nose is inflamed, my little old man of a dog, Hobby, is not very interested in the food he usually loves. My living room needs vacuuming, my plants need watering. The breakfast and lunch dishes are waiting in the sink for some attention. The pork roast with excessive amounts of garlic stuck into it is roasting in the oven and should be ready at dinnertime. I am missing my job like crazy and can’t wait to get back to my stand-up desk inside the crazy mall-turned castle I work at. My son is settling into a new semester in his last year of college, while also preparing to go to Spain for a summer session of classes. My daughter is using her smarts and figuring things out as she goes along, and I know she has amazing things in store for her. I met some very nice people in the last few weeks. I have a wonderful fellowship of supportive people who have my back and who I can count on whenever I need them. I could go on and on and on, but the gist of it is that my life is nothing spectacular and yet it IS SPECTACULAR. What I have and who I have in my life is more precious to me than anything I ever imagined. I feel blessed. I AM blessed. I have everything. I need for nothing. I am the richest woman in the world.
So what’s next? Only some very mundane things. I will finish recuperating from sinus surgery. I will be an active part of my beautiful fellowship. I will return to work next week ready to be wonderfully busy and feel wonderfully useful. I will meet my writing buddies next Monday for another awesome evening of Starbucks and inspiration. I will write and write and write some more. I will not care if anything I write ever gets read. I only care that I can continue to write.
Onto a whole other plane of existence. What am I creating at the moment? I am finishing up Alicia’s Triple Play Infinity scarf. The picture here shows it in red, but Alicia likes green-blue (turqoise, teal?).
I am planning to add a few more motifs to my ongoing big project, the Queen Anne’s Lace tablecloth:
I finished a set of six Rosy Coasters.
I am now trying to decide if I will keep them separate as six items, or will I join them into a larger table topper? Truth be told, I had not planned to actually use them as coasters. I had planned to frame them individually and give them away as gifts. It’s just now that they’re all done, I am coveting them for myself. I rarely make items for myself. I give away 90% of everything I make. I don’t have to decide what to do with the Rosy coasters just this minute.
End of my babble-on.
It’s not that bad, really. Not when compared to other surgeries I’ve had. It does, however, still suck. I have splints sutured in each nostril. I don’t know what they look like at all, but my nose feels completely closed up and is swollen. I swing from feeling somewhat energetic to crashing hard and being in pain. I cannot eat too heavily at all. My dinner tonight consisted of a bowl of my yummy gazpacho followed by a bowl of pureed pumpkin mixed into my Greek yogurt (with pumpkin pie spice and artificial sweetener). This will be my lunch tomorrow. Breakfast is Gjetost cheese melted over chopped apples. I’d like some homemade chicken nuggets for dinner tomorrow, if I have the energy to put it together.
I am missing work and my coworkers. I am missing my work projects. I haven’t looked at my Python exercises since Christmas week. Maybe after the splints are removed on Monday I’ll feel like revisiting my RosiePy7 persona.
My sweet son heads back to school in Denton on Sunday. I will miss him very much. He is now preparing to head to Spain for a summer semester. I’m so proud of him.
I haven’t even written in over a month. I need to revisit my NaNo novel. I met with my InSaNoWriMo buddies last Monday. We are planning to meet each Monday night. They are such a fun and inspiring group.
Nothing much more to say right now that I’m recuperating. More as things progress.
Wow. This is an incredibly powerful message, and it hits so very close to home for me. My daughter and I have had discussions about my own self deprecation. My daughter is the spitting image of me when I was her age. My high school friends often remark on how much she looks like me. My poor baby girl finally told me one day how much it hurts her when I put myself down “Because mom, you tell me I am beautiful and people say I look just like you. How can you be fat and ugly but tell me I am beautiful and perfect just the way I am? It hurts my feelings when you put yourself down.” That was a huge lesson for me. I have never felt beautiful, ever in my life. But when I look at pictures of me when I was young I realize I was so lovely. I still suffer from terrible self image. I am working on it. Knowing how my self-deprecation has affected my daughter makes me realize we are responsible for loving ourselves unconditionally.