Blinking in the Sun

Let's move onto another bodily function: weeping.  Diarrhea has always been my piece of emotional real estate (and an accurate indicator of my feelings) but SOME people have comfort zones that are this big and have a squeamishness that rivals that of the average Perlman: no small accomplishment.  So we'll talk about what makes me weep, what makes me want to weep, and hopefully, what makes you weep.

Lots of things make me feel weepy, but bring forth no actual tears.  When my son interrupted me while I was on the phone the other day with Aunt Marilyn and I waved him away, only to discover later he'd been trying to hand me a Valentine's card, I felt weepy.  I signed up for yoga classes this week and felt weepy after both the sessions I attended: something I attributed to a release of endorphins.  When Pam and Clover hear me pouring chicken grease onto their kibble bowls and then jostle through the doorway like Archie and Meathead it makes me feel weepy, anticipating a time when it'll be just Pam.

Things that make me weep, but just the odd tear or two: the frustration of picking up sick Olive from school, only to find that upon arrival in our home, she is now healthy Olive with no...er...bowel issues whatsoever. 

Hearing this Jane Siberry song:

Seeing Nicholas Cage on Live! with Kelly and remembering how when Sabina was born, I took comfort in remembering the lupine heart-throb Cage played in Moonstruck, and how his one hand just made him all the more appealing.

Last week LB and I had an argument -- the one, long argument that threads its way through our marriage -- about which burners to use on the stove.  He feels the burners in the back are larger, boil water faster, cook faster in general, and are therefor preferable.  I am short and cannot see into the pots as easily when they are on the back burners, so I use the front burners exclusively. 

Our general rule is that whoever is cooking gets to choose the burners, but last week LB moved all my pots around even though I was one doing the cooking.   Usually a small growl and snap on my part is enough for him to back away from the stove, but this time he felt the choice of burner was a battle worth fighting.  Pots were flying, and boiling water splashed on my hand in the melee.  It was a day when Olive had been sent home from school early, so I was In No Mood for this argument.  I was so in no mood that instead of getting hostile I got plaintive. 

When LB left the room, Sabina gently approached me and said, "I really don't think the burners in the back cook any faster than the ones in the front."  The argument did not make me weepy, but validation from my one tall child did.

There are things I don't let myself weep about for fear I'd never be able to stop, but we all have those.  I'm trying to remember the last time I really, really cried, and I'm pretty sure it was on July 23rd, 2011. 

Now that I think of it, I should add ham sandwiches to the list of things that make me weepy.

Comments

[Asdis]

Yoga does that to me too. I'll choke back a few tears when I'm pushing myself over the edge of comfort and afterwards I'm weepy because of all that I accomplished!

[CrazyMomTats!]

Commercials with puppies licking babies. That'll push me over the edge.

[Amelia]

Chronic weeper here. The most intense weeping is brought about by rock cakes. I try to avoid them in bakery display cases because they remind me of my dad's last days and my mum's intense grief. Even typing this is making me well up.

[Steve]

Sometimes the stupidest movie will get to me and I don't know why. Found myself in tears while watching that dumb John Candy movie about the Jamaican bobsled team.

[Robin]

I felt really weepy at my brother's wedding this summer. They were showing a slide show from when we were all young and I lost it.

[Barbara]

Huh, our back burners are clearly smaller than the front ones.