ChelsiAs someone who enjoys reading and writing, it is an odd thing to find yourself in the middle of a sentence unable to find the word for something very commonplace.
In my case right now, that thing is “temple” as in the temple part of eye glasses.
As a person who has worn glasses for most of her life, how have I never come across this before?
I suppose if I were making up a word for this part of my eye glasses, I would call it some sort of appendage like the “arm”, “leg”, or maybe the “penis”.
So, a couple days ago at work, the penis part of my eye glasses fell off. The plastic part had broke, so clearly, they were unfixable.
This did not stop Jess, my very dear work friend who is always looking out for me, from taping my penis back on while also cleaning the lenses that I notoriously leave smudged up.
At work, Jess or Michelle or Cortney clean my smudged lenses that I typically just ignore. At home, Michael cleans my bugged up windshield that I just pay no mind to. #blessed
Unfortunately, the tape did not hold up and for two days, I walked around with glasses that only had one penis.
Finally, one my patients, who happens to be the same age as me, asked, “What’s up with the glasses?” I explained that they were broken beyond repair. We hemmed and hawed together about whether they were truly beyond repair, and we landed on the same conclusion- yes, this broken penis cannot be fixed- tragic.
My fellow mid-millenial patient and I went on to discuss the quirks of our generation which included the following: frugality or the sense to just keep something until it’s in absolute pieces. Throwing away these perfectly good lenses was going to be hard for me along with my 7 year old work shoes that were currently causing a good amount of back pain… “You just gotta let them go,” he advised. He was right.
Our other millenial quirks include a healthy suspicion of AI and social media, and the mindset instilled in us of “just rub some dirt on it”.
Instead of discussing my broken penis any further or writing an emphatic blog post about my disdain for AI and most parts of social media, I will be talking about rubbing some dirt on it.
“Rub some dirt on it,” was preached to me as a kid in the most literal sense.
As we trekked through the thick woods behind my house, my stocky tan legs would suddenly be alight with that familiar sharp burning/itching sensation.
“Rub some dirt on it,” my dad would say. I would do just that, and like magic, it cooled the fire that my burning nettle companions never ceased to stoke upon my curious, clomping legs.
Now, that same burning nettle sensation is something that I almost love. The shockingly sudden burn thrusts me into a nostalgia of every moment I’ve ever spent falling in love with the forest.
It’s been many years since I’ve literally rubbed some dirt on it, so when I did brush up against some burning nettle on the way to the creek and Hutch told me, “Put some mud on it, Grandpa told me that, and it works,” I was flooded with memories of coating my legs in a hefty layer of cool dirt and going on with the trek.
In this moment on the way to the creek with my soulmate son, I was overcome with gratitude of all the times that life burned me, and someone I love reminded me of something I knew all along.
It could be that “rubbing dirt on it” is actually quite helpful.
It could be that a loved one reminds you of all the wonderful things that you forgot that you are.
It could be looking in the eyes of my 3 and 5 year old to see that this world is kinder and more beautiful than we remembered.
This summer was a fun one in our parenting world.
I always say that these ages of 3 and 5 are my absolute favorite. The things they say and how they see the world are truly enlightening and often hilarious.
After an unexpected hysterectomy this spring (more on that in a later blog), I developed a deep appreciation for every day I have with my kids. After all, they are the only two I’m making.
So, in true “On Water and Woods” fashion, I will spend the rest of this blog sharing photos that will help us remember all the goodness that’s alive and well upon this living, breathing, and beautiful Earth.
We had a resident mama deer and two fawns that lived among us this year. Sure, they trampled my zucchini plants and annihilated a fruitful harvest of my favorite and most useful squash, but just look how damn cute they are.
Winnie turned three this summer. We let her pick her birthday activities which included going to a playground and playing soccer with Riley.
Winnie also requested an “upside down cake with blueberries” which Grammy executed deliciously.
We had a few very special weddings.
These included weddings of my “little” cousin who found the yin to her yang, best buds from Michael’s childhood who have been together for 20 years, and a very dear coworker of mine who married her perfect match.
You could always find us closing down the dance floor.
I got that from my daddy… and my grandma… and my auntie Charisse.
We had our annual “Camp Kahl” which was full of kids running around, games, good food, and time together by the water.
I always leave this week with such gratitude for the family I married into.
There is also the other half of my in-laws who I equally adore.
We have our annual camping weekends which include constant campfire chats, karaoke, barn dances, and this year-kickball during which Michael nailed a kid in the face…. c’mon Mike.
On June 20th, our angel on earth- Michael’s Grandma Ellen- became an angel in heaven. She was 92 years old and the sweetest soul you’d ever meet.
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She loved her family so much. She was equal parts so kind and so fun.
Grandma Ellen was throwing bags, playing accordian, playing cards, and making us laugh and feel so loved all the way into her 90s.
Grandma Ellen passed on to be with her late husband the day before his birthday.
She was always surrounded by family, up until the very end.
I continue to see Ellen’s love and light in the silliness and loyalty of my husband, the easy love of my sister and mother-in-law, and the simple joys of my children.
We love you Grandma.
I can’t breeze past summer without talking about the garden.
Michael made a trellis out of fence panels for my beans, peas, tomatoes, and squash to climb.
Michael also made Hutch’s dreams come true with a “farm store”.
We’ve had some loyal customers.
Hutch’s recent ambition was to “build a sink”, so that was also accomplished in recent days. (Thanks Mike.)
Winnie’s ambitions include piloting her own ship- metaphorically and literally.
She also aims to constantly caretake her “babies”, “dollies”, “Rupert”, “my Snickers”, “the giraffees”, and whatever other little things she can mother. (photo below by Hutch)
Hutch and Winnie both love a little adventure.
Where did they get that from?
We got on the water.
Camped among a patch of poison ivy.
Had campfires.
Slept outside, in tents or the camping trailer.
Saw lots of friends.
From near.
And far.
From high school.
And college.
The kids have discovered that they can meander into our bed at night.
And I will never turn down their snuggles, even if it’s a balancing act on the edge of the bed.
We mingled with loons.
And butterflies.
Did some off-roading.
And rocked out.
In many ways.
We were swingers.
But only in one way.
This summer was good to us. It started out a little rocky until my loved ones reminded me of everything I already knew.
So, I slept outside, closed down the dance floor, loved my family, celebrated my friends, jumped in the lake with the loons, ate outside with the butterflies, cuddled my kids whenever they want, set up a tent in the poison ivy, and rubbed some dirt on it.
I am happy… even with a missing penis.
