Thanker's Block

All day long, I've been trying to think of how to properly express everything I'm thankful for this year. 

I give up. I can't do it.

I can't find the words because there are no words.

I've never felt unloved in my life, and I know how very blessed I am to be able to say that. But — I've never felt more loved than I have this past year. 

And — it's ridiculous to even try to define the people who have held us up throughout this journey. Family, friends, caregivers, neighbors? Labels are insignificant. So many people gave so much of themselves, and sometimes when — and from whom — we'd least expect anything.

And, I will carry every last little bit of that goodness with me always.

Thank you.

CHARLESTON, NOVEMBER 2009: Mr. J snapped this pic of us. He probably won't like that I posted it, what with that fuzzy, chemo-hair, wind-induced-Mohawk he's sporting. I don't care. We look happy. We look strong. We look like survivors.

Wordless Charleston Wednesday

Damn Good Dawg

Rest in peace, Uga VII.

(Almost)Wordless Happy-First-Birthday Wednesday

One year ago today, John Conley Bowen joined us. 

In no particular order (because it's more fun that way), a year in the life of JC:

I love you so much, sweet boy.

Happy Birthday.

Chucktown

So. It turns out TAHITI* bears an uncanny resemblance to Charleston, South Carolina.

Huh. Who knew?

Charleston was a favorite jaunt of ours back in our dating days, and we didn't realize until we were making our plans for TAHITI* that we hadn't been there since before the Wedding Wedding. 

Over the years, we'd spent time in the mountains, and at various beaches, sure. 

But not back on cobblestones of old Charles Towne? Not listening to the water beat against the retaining wall as we gaze out at Fort Sumter where that Citadel cadet fired the first shot in the War of Northern Aggression? Not listening to the ghosts whispering in the Live Oaks in Battery Park? Not reveling in the architecture, and breathing deep the air of courtyard gardens on Rainbow Row?

Well, that just needed fixing — and quick-like.

So we sauntered on down to the Lowcountry ... OK, we didn't saunter, we zipped down the interstate in a Toyota truck. (But doesn't it seem like we should have sauntered? I thought so.) No worries, though. We slowed our steps and strolled at the appropriate pace once we arrived in the Holy City.

First stop was James Island and Folly Beach because Cat Con was with us and we were forced to obey her Saltwater Proximity Axiom. The law simply states that if an ocean shoreline is within 32 (give or take) miles in any direction, she must go to it, strip down (at least her tootsies) and become one with the beach. 

Hours, days, weeks, all are preferable timeframes for worship, but a surprisingly small exposure can actually get the job done:

Cat Con has been known to admit to depression, frustration, melodrama, fear, angst, insecurity (Yes, really. Her ego does have some boundaries.) and all forms of melancholia at many different points in her life. 

But she has never, never, never — never — been anything but at peace on a beach.

[sigh]

As for all those other Charlestonian delights mentioned above, I've got some sweet pics of those, too.

I think (if we're lucky) Miss Almost-Boundless-Ego might be done gazing at her toe ring in the sand before Wordless Wednesday rolls around, and I can wrest the images from her (if we're lucky).

Stay tuned.

You Knew What You Were Getting Into When You Married Me

... is pretty much what I say every year to Mr. J when he would just as soon let the 8th of November pass without fanfare.

But birthdays? Are not ignored in my world.

I don't care how old you are, Mr. J; and I sure don't care how broke we are, 'cause I don't need money to make a fuss. I only care enough to never have anyone sing to you in a cheesy restaurant, and to never (never, I promise!) throw you a surprise party.

And that's only because I expect the same in return. The only cheesy singing on my (oh, and yours, too) birthday shall be done by me. And the only surprising on my birthday shall be done by you. We agree on that.

But that's it. 

I will never ignore a birthday (I might forget, but that's a whole other story), because I am exponentially cheesetastic like that. I will never stop being grateful that one day in November, 1962, you happened. I may have taken another six years to show up, and then another 29 to find you, but none of that's important.

It was always meant to be.

What's that? Er, no. 

No. It's not easy being this cheesy.

Below, birthday happiness 2009:

Nom, nom, nom ...

One dozen little cups of happy.

Red velvet.

Caramel apple and chocolate peanut butter.

The black bottom, a brilliant concoction of dark chocolate cake with chocolate chip cheesecake and cream cheese frosting.

Nurse Tilly, asking for the 4,782nd time, "Why? Why can't I have a little happy cake of joy?"

Why? Because you can't have chocolate. And there'd be fewer for me. But mostly the chocolate reason. Really.

Thank you, Cupcake, for coming to Columbia. And thank you, anonymous college girl (ACG) working at Cupcake for your validation when I picked these out.

ACG (smiling): "Are these for a special occasion?"

ME (drooling): "Yes, they are. My husband made me promise not to get him anything for his birthday, and this is the anything I'm getting anyway."

ACG (seriously): "Ma'am, you did the right thing."

Yes, I did, ACG. 

Yes.

I. 

Did.

Wordless Veterans-Day-At-Folly-Beach Wednesday

Miss Me Much?

I'm ba-a-a-a-ck. 
Imaginary vacation is over.
More to come.


p.s. for what it's worth, I missed you

Fiddle-Dee-Freakin'-Dee

" ... I can't think about that right now. 

If I do, I'll go crazy. 

I'll think about that tomorrow ..."

©1939 SELZNICK INTERNATIONAL PICTURES and MGM

Insert Fingers in Ears and Commence the LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA's (aka code name: TAHITI*)

Today is one of the high holidays of Halfglassistan.


If you've been paying attention, you knew it was coming: I began a sentimental journey at the beginning of the month, added to it, sprinkled in a few wordless clues here and there, and had the intention of telling the tale of the Wedding Wedding today, its 10th anniversary.


Then we were taking off for TAHITI*. 


Now, before you go getting all worked up and wondering how the hell Team Wedding can come up with that kind of coin (you know who you are) — let me explain.


Yes, Tahiti is a real place. No, TAHITI* is not. Except how it exists in my mind. Kinda like Cat Con. (In fact, she made all the arrangements. She has the best taste.)


TAHITI* is where there is no cancer. No unemployment. No bills. No agonies of aging parents. No chemo. No scans. No tests. No fevers. No antibiotics. No tubes. No migraines. No scales. No thinning gray hair. No chipped teeth. No weird aches. No insomnia. No fears. No hate. No confusion. No changes. No passive-aggressiveness. And no cancer. Did I say no cancer? That's OK. TAHITI* so doesn't have cancer, it doesn't even have a word for cancer. You can see why I'd be confused.


In TAHITI*, we are always young and beautiful (or, as Cat Con says, younger and beautifuller — because we're never not beautiful). We are always laughing. We are always singing. We are always dancing. We are always loving.


Hmmm. If you've spent any time at all in Halfglassistan, I think you'll realize we've been to TAHITI* before. We do a lot of laughing and singing and dancing regardless of what else is going on. And the loving? Well, we're all about that around here.


In fact, there's no need to tell the story of the Wedding Wedding. Yeah, it's a good one, even in my not-so-humble, oh-so-biased, opinion. But, right now, what happened that day isn't what's important. What's important is that 10 years later, there is not just an anniversary of a beautiful fall evening, but — that there is a Team Wedding. And TWHQ isn't a figment of my imagination, but a real-live place. In the real world. Where all of those not fun things I listed above do exist. 


And we go on in spite of them. We are better because of them. 


We're not celebrating today that I put on a stunning rum-pink satin beaded dress 10 years ago and carried the most gorgeous champagne-colored roses with just a hint of pink at the petals' edges. We're not celebrating that I smiled and kissed Mr. J before our minister even began the ceremony — yet don't even remember doing it, because it was so natural. We're not celebrating that Mr. J and I, from memory, recited vows that each had written to the other. And cried through them, along with everyone else in the room.


No. I've realized that what we're celebrating today is that, 10 years later, I love and respect Mr. J even more than I did that night. Even more than I would have believed possible.


After spending the week among loved ones who, for whatever reasons, have forgotten who they are and what they mean to others — we're celebrating that we still can appreciate who we are together and what we mean to each other. 


After helping another loved one memorialize the husband she lost just five days after their 40th wedding anniversary, we're celebrating that we've at least had 10 together — and praying we have many more.


And, after meaning to leave for TAHITI* yesterday around noon, but being sidetracked — we're celebrating that we get to go to TAHITI* at all.


So, au revoir, y'all.


We're in TAHITI*. See you when (if) we come back.