Sometimes love is blue

By Mir
October 8, 2009

I had a small breakdown, last week. Not a big one. Nothing dramatic, I don’t think, nor dangerous or even particularly noteworthy to anyone except ME. To me it was clear that the Mir Pressure Release System had malfunctioned somewhere along the line, allowing stress to build to Code Red levels and ultimately result in Unhealthy Things.

Sooooooo I blew up at one two all of the members of my family, had a few good cries, spent many a late night wrestling with my old pal, insomnia, and then got over it. Kind of.

Over it enough to keep on keepin’ on, as we say, in any event. I may have something of a meltdown hangover, now. (It’s sort of throbby and achy but ultimately more annoying than concerning.)

I hope to look back on this time and laugh, someday. Alternatively, I hope to have my memory wiped. Either way.

Matters are not helped by the fact that we’ve had a LOT of rain this season, like, unseasonable monsoons of never-ending rain, and it’s hard to stay calm and rational and happy while you’re sprouting gills. But over the weekend we had a brief spurt of gorgeous weather—clear, warm, just a slight, refreshing breeze. It was incredible.

So I ditched everything I was supposed to be doing and went outside with a book and a dog. (My dog. Not some random dog.) I set up one of our lounging chairs (doesn’t that sound fancy? Like, as if it’s something other than a plastic chair from Big Lots that happens to have a slide-out foot rest?) and opened up the umbrella recently rescued from the pool and plunked myself down, poolside.

Licorice and I did not get up again until I’d finished my book.

When I turned the last page, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, at which point I promptly fell asleep. I woke up when Licorice hopped down from the chair to pant up at me from the concrete, and after obliging her with a head pat I looked up.


When I’d opened the umbrella, earlier, the sun was shining through the left-hand side of it. I’d been out so long, the sun had moved from one side to the other, though I was still safely in the shade. My vantage point was interesting; the sun’s reflection off the pool water made a rippling effect on the underside of the umbrella (which I couldn’t capture withe camera), mimicking movement, while the edges of the umbrella flapped in the breeze. The sky was such a beautiful color—and so cloudless—that I craned my neck to look for clouds beyond my immediate view, but there were none. Still, from where I was sitting, most of the sky was hidden from me. And it was still magnificent.

I sat with it for a few minutes more, then got up and got back to my life.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone. A few minutes, a few unexpected glimpses… sometimes that’s all it takes.


  1. Scottsdale Girl

    I love that the Arizona weather finally got the memo that FALL was here. Cool nights with windows open and no AC running are a blessing – a true blessing. Now I need to get a lounge chair on the porch. Thanks for the reminder Mir.

  2. Leandra

    I know we’re all supposed to be adults and stuff, but sometimes I would really like to have a fall down on the floor, screaming, kicking tantrum. Followed by a good cry.

    Your pressure cooker did what it needed to do — it let off steam. Sometimes that’s what we need, too.

    And no, all this rain is NOT helping.

    Here’s to sunnier days for all of us.

  3. Otto

    You know, that’s a pretty awesome photo. I would love a print of that for my office, because that’s the way our life should be – bright and sunny, but not searing, with a touch of blue to keep us grounded.


  4. Megan

    I have the equivalent feeling although flip-flopped. The summer here is so searing and hot and devastating that I get horribly stressed over days and days and days of relentless blue skies and sun (YES I know how silly that sounds). But just yesterday I woke up to clouds – real ones, rain-filled ones that dumped for two hours and made everything smell wonderful and I felt like I was coming to life again.

  5. pam

    Dang you Otto. Made me cry.

  6. natasha the exile on Mom Street

    You need some froggy rain boots.

    My son *lives* for rainy days since we got him a pair.

    I still prefer books and sunshine, myself.

  7. Heidi

    Want your memory wiped? Call the Haitian. (But see, I don’t think you’re a Heroes fan, so you won’t know what I’m talking about. Okay, never mind.)

    Karen’s post today at Chookooloonks will remind you in a nice way to be gentle with yourself…

  8. Tracy

    There is nothing more spectular than the art of God. It was gorgeous here as well and now…raining again.

  9. Annette

    Before I finished reading, I was looking for the image of Jesus or Mary in the sun on the umbrella…expectations too high?

    As I said before, a good priest friend of mine says, it is always sunny, even if it is raining, it is sunny above the clouds:).

  10. Katie in MA

    You are so lucky to have you an Otto. I’m glad you took a time-out and were able to relax. (And I have to recommend Blindspot by Jane Kamensky and Jill Lepore the next time you need a book-break.)

  11. susie

    Keep on looking up and eventually, everything else will catch up too.

  12. elaine

    you go, girl.

  13. Brigitte

    Yay, everyone needs a day like that sometimes! I wish it could be at least once a week, but we’ll take it when we can.

    Awww, a photographic compliment from Otto! ;-)

  14. Aimee

    Love that picture! And when Otto’s handing out compliments on your photography… well, I think your work here is done.

  15. GrandeMocha

    I always feel like a two year old when I melt down. But I know that I’m overwhelmed for a reason and I need to sort through that and figure out what need to do. I feel stupid that there were witnesses.

    I too wish “I hope to look back on this time and laugh, someday.” I know my family will look back & laugh at me. At least I can amuse them.

  16. Nicki

    I hope when I finish my meltdown that there’s sun. I feel your pain, Mir. Take care. Know you are loved, Thursday and every day.

  17. Ruth

    Well said and so illuminating! We sometimes learn the most when we are hurting the most; hang in there!

  18. daring one

    Do you think the music you’re listening to when you read something affects your reading experience? I was listening to Madonna as I read this and my thoughts were, “Oh Mir. I’ll take the rain and clouds for you for the rest of the winter and hopefully the meltdowns won’t come back for either of us. Also, I’m glad it wasn’t some random dog.” I’m not sure how that would have been different if I’d been listening to… say… Bob Dylan.

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