Category Archives: Gratitude Friday

Gratitude

1. Morning walks. There weren’t many this week. We had three or four days when the temperatures were below zero and didn’t get much higher than 10 degrees, and this morning Ringo overdid it and is limping, so next week may be restricted as well — and that’s totally okay.

2. The right book at the right time. I was writing and thinking about something in particular this morning and went to look for a book that I thought I had to read more about it and turns out I only have that book on my Kindle, but in the process of searching for it on my shelves, I found another book that so clearly is the one I need to read right now.

3. Family. My uncle Joe died this week, my mom’s younger brother. He wasn’t alone, his son was with him (which makes me happy for Joe but heartbroken for my cousin who did everything he could to help him only to lose him), and now that he’s gone, the rest of the family is gathering to love on his wife and kids and each other. Joe was a hard worker, loved his family, and was a big goofball. We will all miss him, but it’s also a reminder how much we love each other, how lucky we are, and how short and precious life is.

4. Good food. This week we had a “dump dinner” night because I realized we had potatoes, brussel sprouts, and broccoli that were days away from going in the compost pile, so I fried the potatoes, roasted and glazed the sprouts with balsamic vinegar and honey, and made broccoli and parmesan cheese fritters. The whole “making something from nothing” is a particular kind of magic, medicine.

5. My tiny family, tiny home, tiny life. The world is on fire and sometimes the chaos and grief of that gets me down, but all I have to do is pet Ringo or hug Eric and I decide for the millionth time to not give up.

Bonus joy: playing with Ringo, swimming laps, raspberries, stickers, the hydromassage chair, making art with Janice, sitting in the sauna with Eric, how fast I have access to lab results, clean laundry, clean sheets, taking all my social media apps off my phone for the weekend, pain medication, vaccinations, listening to podcasts, writing, meditating, stretching, aqua aerobics, small group training with Shelby, snow tires, snow, ice scrapers, snow shovels, down and wool, watching Guy’s Grocery Games and laughing with Eric, texting with Chloe’ and Mom and Chris, naps, a warm cup of coffee with hot cocoa and tiny marshmallows, gummy supplements, kitchen hugs, kitchen counter love notes, all my various spaces to practice and work and rest, a warm shower, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.

Gratitude

1. Morning walks. We got a tiny bit more snow this week and more is on the way, but true to Colorado, most days the skies were blue. I enjoyed the walks a bit extra because Ringo is feeling so much better.

2. Raintree Athletic Club. It was really really hard to leave my other gym. I’d been going there for over ten years. One of the original owners was my trainer for eight years and a friend for longer (and who helped me rehab from a pretty bad knee injury), it was the first place I practiced yoga and after getting certified to teach I regularly subbed for the MWF early morning class (teaching people you’ve practiced with for over 10 years is an extra kind of special), it was the gym that took me through a transformation when it became clear I was a disordered eater and drowning in self-loathing, it was where I met (and eventually lost to cancer) my friend Anne, where I started Pilates, and even the place where I discovered my masseuse who I’ve been seeing for at least six years because she’d put a special for members on the community bulletin board. But there was a moment where it just was time for something new, in particular somewhere with a pool. And after three years there, I am so in love: aqua aerobics, swimming (it’s where I took lessons and learned), the sauna, the hydromassage chair, small group training, Pilates, yoga, and such good people, both the ones who workout there and those who work and teach there.

Image from Raintree Athletic Club, “my” pool

3. Cooking. I know it was hard for my mom to be patient with the process, the mess and mistakes I made, but I’m so grateful she taught me so many basics of how to take care of myself: laundry, grocery shopping, banking, gardening, how to make a bed, cleaning, but most of all cooking. So many people never learn how or never feel comfortable, but I feel like I can make just about anything I would want and inherited lots of yummy family favorites. Additional thanks to the internet and all the cooks who post recipes so they are easy for me to find and follow and all the people who grow, harvest, transport, and sell the ingredients I need.

4. Reading. It struck me the other day how much I enjoy it, the depth of that joy. Again, thanks to my mom who always read to me, knew it was important, who helped teach me and modeled what it meant to be a reader. My dad was also a reader, modeled that joy, which I know now is pretty rare, a dad who reads because he enjoys it, because he’s curious about the world.

5. My tiny family, tiny home, tiny life. This morning, as I sat with a hot cup of coffee and hot cocoa and tiny marshmallows at my desk writing my morning pages in front of my HappyLight while the finches and chickadees visited the bird feeder attached to the window over my desk, I noticed how in love I am with all of it. I really wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Bonus joy: trading books with my neighbor, getting to see the baby, texting with Chloe’, making art with Calyx, that corner of the couch, watching TV, listening to podcasts, napping, a warm shower, kitchen counter love notes, Thin Mints, raspberries, being able to help, masks and vaccines, gummies, practicing with my writing sangha, an abundance of fresh(ish) produce at the grocery store, other people’s dogs, the Prisma app and that one filter I love so much, when Laurie calls me Jilly, watching “Guy’s Grocery Games” with Eric and making each other laugh, sitting in the sauna with him, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.