“You Aren’t Special”

 

Over 20 national competitions? Whatever…

I’ll admit it - I was triggered by a meme that had nothing to do with me. The phrase? 

“You’re nothing special.”

I’ve heard this, or a version of this, all my life. I used to grin and bear it, saying it kept me humble. Snide comments to “keep my feet on the ground.” Dismissal of accomplishments. Or simply, ignored.

You’re nothing special.

I wonder if my extracurriculars are considered self indulgent. If others think I'm delusional, even though I know I’m not that good. Trophies dismissed as "participation medals" even in the face of competition. 

You think I don’t hear the dismissal? The catty comments? The snark? 

I heard it when I graduated from college. Best in Show in an art competition. ArtPrize. Skating. Running. Any time I stick my neck out, I could hear the knife being sharpened, someone eager to cut me down to size.

You’re nothing special. 

I know. You think I don’t? But maybe, just maybe, with every attempt to stretch my limits, push past my comfort zone, there’s a little moment of special that erases your negativity. 

LHOTR - I Shutter to Think

 

The plans.

Beaver side.

River side.

One of the earliest chores on the to-do list has been giving the little house its Poseidon Blue shutter face lift. Dave grumbled but relented to hang shutters river side, but thought no more were needed. 

I found a pair for the kitchen window at Habitat for Humanity’s Restore for four bucks. Hanging those, he admitted they looked great. Do we drop big money for the rest of the house?

Yes. 

Some of the windows, like the one next to the chimney and front door didn’t give us much room to hang a pair, so those were left alone. The rest were framed nicely in the hue that most closely resembled Lake Superior blue.

So what’s next? We’ve talked about a painted quilt square for the barn. Cutting down the shrubs and putting in roses. Or maybe just kicking back and enjoying the summer in the river.

LHOTR: Fourth of July Scrapbook

Dave's mom and his sister's family came up north for food and drink. I think we were too busy having fun and didn't take enough time to take too many pictures! I'll post what I can.

Float on. 

Debating whether we should sit in the river. The answer was yes.

Morning Yadi. 

Why sit up top when we could chill below?

Birthday!

Why do we take pictures of fireworks when they never turn out? 

Gang hang.

Your LHOTR hosts. 

Tied off and going nowhere. 

Typing Out Loud: To Have and to Hold

Am I the reason you drink, babe? 

Dave and I celebrated 24 years married in June, and this September, it will be 31 years since we first met. All these years later, we find little ways to celebrate each others' partnership, from date night buying gutters at Menards to Pokemon hunting while waiting for takeout because I don't want to cook. 

The flip side recently has been coming to terms with people we know and love who have thrown in the towel on their relationships. My heart cried out for a friend, who recently said of his impending divorce simply, "we no longer like each other." 

It hurt to even type that. 

I don't know what goes into a divorce, and that's kind of what scares me, even in the security of 24 years. Where are the mistakes, the trip lines, the line you don't cross? Could I wake up one day with him showing me the door? I'm too old to start learning how to swipe right - or is it left?

The list of my imperfections is humbling and alarming. I can't reverse the signs of aging any more than he can, but I know I'm not the cute little number that lived next door to him in college. Sexy time isn't what it used to be. The worst of my shopping addictions is thrift and dollar store treats, although we've been hitting the plastic a lot lately for car repairs and a new washer and dryer. And because of COVID, I've been a bit grouchier, and a little more addicted to getting work done. 

People have fawned on social media, applauding each time the calendar tabulates another year and asks us how we do it. Marry Dave is one answer I can give. Another answer is if something you are going to do hurts the other person, maybe you don't do it. But I know it depends on the people in the relationship. 

I don't know. We aren't perfect, far from it. I try not to take him for granted. Maybe he's too lazy to get rid of me since splitting up the music collection would take years in the court system. Maybe my salmon patty recipe is just tasty enough to keep me around. Or maybe he can't live without me. I know I can't live without him. 

Contemplating Life Choices - an Open Letter to My Coach

 

USA Masters Games and US Figure Skating US Adult Championships

So I feel like when I medal, the brain shouts “everything is great!’ and I move onto the next thing. When I don’t do well, I contemplate life choices.

Well, I did medal (and didn’t), and am still contemplating life choices. I can’t seem to shut the brain off.

First, I need new skates. I’m tired of fighting my left boot and I need to feel confident in my left. I am planning on contacting Susan Jones and making a weekend appointment to get this taken care of once and for all.

Second, I need to take a break to heal the IT/piriformis issue. I’ve been foam rolling, massaging, stretching, soaking, electrocuting my left leg for a month now. I am going to call the PT office that’s in the old Burger King by my house and see if I can get in.

Third, I’m taking a break from free skate, unless it’s to take the gold free skate test, God willing. I’ve been to 10 ANs, and my best finish is middle of the pack. It’s not working. Maybe I will miss it, but it’s time for me to focus on other things.

I’m astonished to realize all my USFS national medals are in showcase, from ANs to National Showcase and Master Games. Even thinking about my ISI results, that’s where I shine, and where there is excitement instead of dread. I’m good at it. I have two ideas for the attached song, one an artistic dramatic in a romantic vein, the other a comedy routine that revolves around me skating as an eyeball. Yes, an eyeball. I like the challenge of looking at one piece of music from two perspectives.

Fourth, I gotta pass gold moves already. And those bronze dances I’ve been starting and stopping. And free dance, I did great in dance the year I did it.

I’ve tried to make skating on Sundays work, but especially this summer, it just isn’t working for me. With the cottage, Dave really wants family time on weekends, and so do I. When faced with either running to the rink or taking Will to his baseball games, Will won every time - be it Sunday. Monday, or Saturday. An helping mom with her house. Family has won every time.

As for how I skated at ANs and Masters Games, I’m all over the place emotionally. I feel like I’m making excuses for how poorly I did, but the facts are I do need new skates, I am injured, mom needed my help, I needed to be mom/wife, I haven’t been able to train the way I’d like because of limited ice availability, it is what it is. I did the best I could, and now, sitting at work with a knee brace on, I can tell you I gave it every ounce physically and emotionally. I’m trying not to be dispirited that the result was 9th place.

I will share the positives: while waiting for the previous skater's scores and for my name to be announced, I had my AN moment. Everyone in the lobby saw I was on the ice, and swarmed into the arena, to cheer and shout “we love you Mel!” which made me cry - we do have such a great community. But when I was at GRO and competing in the Masters event, all the judges that weren’t on the panel came out to cheer me on from the stands. Looks like I’m a part of two great communities.

Also, I relayed the story of my skate while I was in judges’ hospitality, embarrassed by my placement. One judge looked at me with a critical eye and said “weren’t you sick for a while?” gesturing towards the boobs and ovaries. I said, “well yeah…” and then she raised an eyebrow and pointed her stopwatch at me and replied, “and yet you’re still skating…” and left it at that. Another, beaming at me, says “you have the best life - a great kid, a husband who loves you, and you do what you love. That’s great!” Two affirmations from two unlikely sources.

LHOTR - Lemonade!

 

My girl Laura rhapsodized about lemonade numerous times in her series: at a Fourth of July celebration in town, at Nellie’s birthday party, and a party at Ben’s. She was in awe of citrus in general, when an orange was considered a desirable, exotic gift as a party favor or in the toe of a Christmas stocking.

I’m in the gift category: I love lemons, limes, grapefruit, kumquats, any fragrant member of the family. When I mix a batch of lemonade up, I will add orange to make it sweeter or lime to make it more tart. 

We just got up to the cottage and first thing I mixed was the jar above. And it looks pretty against the gingham curtain; I’m sure Laura would agree.

Personal Beatley Moments

 

Why yes, I do search for George Harrison

Like a favorite scent, certain songs in The Beatles catalog stirs a random memory. On our way up to the cottage last night, we put them on shuffle, and here’s what came up:

At a baseball game as a bachelor party disrupted play, the group drunkenly singing their version of Yellow Submarine, as their team was losing 16-0. They were escorted out

Caught holding hands with Bob "from Flint" by the other kids at the resort on Houghton Lake. They proceeded to chase us around the hotel while singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand. It was the weirdest harassment ever. I was eight.

Party hopping at Michigan State with my girlfriends and shout-singing Eight Days a Week.

A particularly heinous day working at the hospital and discovering someone had written the lyrics to Dear Prudence on a post-it and left it on the bathroom mirror for someone to discover. "The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you."

Competing Here There and Everywhere at State Games of America in 2017 and medaling. 

Meeting Dave’s friend Vince for the first time and instantly bonding and dancing to Twist and Shout. He then punched a hole in Dave's paper-thin wall. The time-honored solution was a unique patch made of water, flour, and toothpaste. No security deposit was lost. 

Having a Beatle weekend with my high school friend Maria, renting a Hard Days Night, Help!, Magical Mystery Tour, and Let it Be - $5 each on VHS from this teeny tiny rental hut that is now a Bras of All Sizes shop. We stayed up until 4am, eating cookie dough and talking nonstop.

Listening to Revolver nonstop, May 1988, particularly the song For No One. Ugh.

Will embracing Revolution #9, and singing “number 9… number 9… number 9…” for an entire month. 

Sitting in my car listening to the last broadcast of radio program Rockline, where the host Bob Coburn reminisced about his favorite interview of all time, George Harrison in 1988. I don’t know why, but If I Needed Someone sounded so good that night, I sat out in my car until 2am, in freezing temperatures, just to listen to the end of the show. 

I found part of it! Rockline, part 1