I just read a book that left me with two interesting ideas. In the book, anyone with a pain, a wound, cancer, any kind of hurt really, experienced a phenomenon in which the pain would shine a light or glow. Sounds kind of ridiculous, but, as I read, I adjusted to the silly thought and I started to think what a great idea this would be. So many nights, as I rub on my Ben Gay, I tell the Goose that I wish he could feel how my knees hurt. I think it would make us all so much more sympathetic. The worse the pain, the brighter the light. It would allow us to know what was going on inside those who we perceive as just jerks. I can’t get this out of my mind. It has caused me to question the snippy Kroger bagger, the complete ass of a teacher that has made both The Boy and me to smack our hands to our heads. It might explain those driving 10 miles under the speed limit in front of me. Honestly, I have been a little bit nicer having considered this.
The other great thing that came out of the same book has caused a lovely trend in my own house, and I do mean love. The man in the book left a declaration of love for his wife each and every day. Not a big “I love you, you are my soul, my spirit” kind of mushy crap, a lighthearted thought that let her know he noticed her.
Yesterday morning I left one for the Goose that said, “I love the way your hands look.” It’s true. He could be a hand model. I’ve never seen more beautiful hands but when, in our real life, am I going to look at the man and tell him that? He would leer at me or roll his eyes. Those of us with a man can well imagine the comeback comment. This was just a fun way for me to tell him that I’ve always thought he has pretty hands. He turned it over and wrote to me that he liked my cute little nose. The Goose has never, in great inebriation or in passion, mentioned my nose, especially put as “cute little nose,” although I guess it is a little cute. Today, when I was at the grocery store, my most hated of chores, I thought about this and laughed out loud in the nut isle. It has made me happy.
To my kids, it’s hard to say, “I love your crazy sense of humor” without following it up with “but your room is no laughing matter.” It is causing me to just say something nice without starting to whine and rattle like an angry tea pot about their cloud of mess that follows them around. Today I told Cricket that I love that she loves school supplies. That kid, a junior in college, can still get into a happy twist over new pens and notebooks.
I love that the Goose says to me every day “this is my idea of the day.” They’re not always great ideas, but I love that he has them and that he shares them. He probably didn’t know I enjoy that as I usually just say “uh-huh.”
I love that Cricket thinks Peeps are the height of fine desserts.
This is a chance to tell my loved ones the quirky things I love about them that makes them interesting without having to make a big lovey-dovey deal about it. Wouldn’t it be fun if this trend took off? I’d love to tell my friends the little quirks that make me love them. I love that the Empress twirls her hair when she talks, that the Trophy Wife draws out her “s” sound at the end of a word when she’s still thinking about what she’s saying and it makes it sound more important and sort of delicious, like a cookie. I love the way the Sweet Talker says “awww” every time I mention any animal, just like I would, and gets a wistful look in her eyes, wishing she could get her hands on them.
I wish my parents were still here so I could tell them how much I love that they always held hands and that my mother’s favorite exclamations were “Land o Goshin” and “Jumpin‘ Jesophat.” That still cracks me up. I love that their house smelled like Lemon Pledge and coffee.
Next month, I will start yelling about the mess again, but this month, I’m going to really enjoy all this mushy stuff. I think, in the midst of this gloomy weather and winter misery, it could make everyone a little happier.