The Sun Makes Everything Better

Yesterday I started Operation Problem Fix.  I know that to some it may seem a tad dramatic to attack after only a few days of feeling off, but that's simply how I work.  I used to not be that way.  I would let unhealthy habits go and go and go and go always having excuse after excuse after excuse.  But now, I know what it is to be healthy.  To feel healthy.  Both physically and emotionally.  I'll be damned if I'm losing that.  So I'm going with dramatic.  And it felt cleansing to take an honest look at the fact that I wasn't feeling it.  Wasn't feeling anything in the last few days.  Part of why I knew it was time to figure that business out was I didn't want to write.  Until last night, I didn't want to even open my computer.  Like I couldn't formulate a train of thoughts to make sense even in my own brain...much less put them down in a tangible form.  

But now, it's a new day.  And it's early.  Early morning.  My best friend and I are back together.  I have a cup of coffee sitting next to me.  I have a quilt wrapped around me.  I am writing.  Putting words to the last day of the Arizona break.  

Let me tell you this first.  

It feels right.  It feels good to be sitting here.  What I say next might not make sense to you or maybe it will...either way, I'm saying it.  It feels exciting.  For the first time in quite some time, I feel excited.  Looking forward instead of backward.  Feeling the anticipation of things to come.  And this part may really not make sense to you but here goes trying to explain it...

I feel in control.  Yes, I have issues with controlling.  But right now, I'm thinking the control I feel is a healthy one.   

Whew.  

Back to the task at hand.  Saturday in Arizona with Momma Debi.  I went for a run and pushed it hard.  When I got back to the house, my mom had steel cut oats waiting on the stove and a fresh pot of coffee brewing.  Best mom ever.  Plus, she had painted her nails and was showered and all pretty.  I was not at that point.  Sweaty Betty was more like it.  But she has a way of looking past the outer appearance and we enjoyed a breakfast together with the sun slithering in through the blinds.     

I have a tendency to putter around in the morning.  If you have ever traveled with me or stayed in a hotel room with me, you know what I'm talking about.  It takes me forever to get ready.  Not because I'm working on looking perfect, but because I'm fluttering about...not staying on task.  It's truly a flutter.  Momma Debi was not about letting me flutter putter though, she wanted to get going so we could get back and enjoy the sun and the pool.  She sat me down and braided my hair.  And then told me to hurry it up and proceeded to stand in the bathroom doorway so I could not get off task.  She knows me all too well.  

On the agenda was picking up my aunt and heading to Old Town Scottsdale to do a bit of jewelry shopping and lunch.  Since it was our last day in the AZ sun, the afternoon was slated for pool and more pool.  If Momma Debi wouldn't have been the putter police, the plan wouldn't have worked.  But she got me out the door in time.  Our jewelry shopping was unsuccessful; for some reason, I can not buy a ring whose price tag is eleven hundred dollars.  But while standing next to a counter, I did get asked this by two very sweaty people who had numbers pinned on the fronts of their shirts, "Can we take a picture with you?  We are in this amazing race thing and we need a picture with someone wearing cowboy boots and we need to be fast and can we take a picture with you?  Now?!!"

I obliged.  Let the sweaty guy and the sweaty girl put their arms around me while my aunt snapped a picture using their camera.

So somewhere out there is a picture of me.  Wearing cowboy boots.  With two sweaty strangers' arms around me.  In Old Town Scottsdale.   

We gave up on the jewelry and decided it was time to enjoy drinks and eats.  Yummy is all I have to say about that.  

Wait.  I also have to say after the fish taco is when the whole "Do you want me to call this northern Mexico?" conversation went down.  The more I have thought about it, the more I am pretty sure the reason the man started talking to me in the first place was because I sat with my camera pointed to the sky and proceeded to move my head all around to get the right angle of sun flare.  When I'm in the picture moment, I forget I probably look ridiculous.

We made it back to the house just in time for the sun to be in the middle of doing its warming thing.  I have a love affair for the sun and its reflections and its shine.  It truly makes everything prettier.  Even plants.  

My dad is proud of this fruit tree.  I think it's the farmer in him.  The part of him that is about growing and successful harvests.  The grapefruits are the size of small basketballs so I guess his pride is justified.  And Momma Debi can be proud of herself for matching the fruit.  I love when an outfit matches the surroundings.  Remember the cowboy boots and red checked tablecloth?  

I'm going to skip right over how the picture of Momma Debi holding the two grapefruits in her hands could be viewed as mildly inappropriate.  Going to keep my brain out of the gutter.  You should too.  

Have I ever explained I get my photography thing from my mom.  She has an eye for seeing light and different angles.  Her black and white images of my dad and grandpa in a field at harvest time from the late seventies are right up there with my all time favorites.  And she always had a camera on us when were little.  Even when I was doing embarrassing or naughty things.  Like sitting on a picnic bench crying because I had just face planted in the mud.

So when she takes my camera, she does her thing. 

After we had sufficiently captured the sunlight to freeze for later, the pool beckoned.  In a serious way. 

The rest of the afternoon, Momma Debi and I soaked it up with the help of wine out of "non-glass" cups.  This time we followed the rules. 

Floating in that pool visiting with my mom while the sun slowly started saying goodbye, I had yet another of those when did I get to this good stuff moments.  The good stuff of having fun with my mom.  The good stuff of being able to tell her anything.  The good stuff of us actually enjoying each other's company. 

You see, my mom and I have not always been the best of friends.  I was a sassy child and an over the top sassy teenager.  When I look back at some of the ways I behaved, I shudder.  And I'm sure there were many many days and nights when my mom prayed I would turn out alright.  I'm sure there were many many days and nights when my mom prayed for us to someday get along.  

Prayers answered.  

At least I think I turned out alright.  

And I without a doubt know, my mom and I have a steady and fabulous relationship.  One where we are honest and supporting and loving.  

So even if the jury is still out on whether I turned out completely alright or not, I will still say those prayers were answered.

This growing up thing is not all bad.  Growing up gets us to the good stuff because we learn to let go and listen and pay attention and accept.   

When the shadows of evening made their appearance, I couldn't help but to literally jump out of the pool, wrap a towel around me, cram my feet into my mom's too small for me sandals, grab my camera, and run to the front yard.  The side the sun was putting on its show.

Because that's what I do.  I get urges to capture the moments.  To figure out how to have my camera help me remember the way it looked and the way it felt and the way it sounded.  I get urges to see the small.  And it's what makes me ME.  Standing in the cul-de-sac.  In my towel.  Dripping wet.  My feet jammed into too small for me sandals.  Taking pictures.  While I can hear the neighbors through their screened front doors, knowing they see me and not caring one bit.  All of that is what makes me ME.  

Just like sitting here now, in the quiet early morning, with the words rolling from my brain through my fingers is what makes me ME.  The fact that I feel it, whatever it is, right now tells me I'm not slipping.  I've caught myself.  

I will keep catching myself.