I can’t help but recall my own 46th year—it was a big one. That was the year my hearing winked out. It was the year of my last mondo brain fry up which left me at the very bottom of Recovery Mountain. I needed a walker to get around. For six solid months I had crazy ass double vision. My mouth didn’t work so good anymore—I couldn’t drink from a glass without spilling all over myself. Still can’t. I slept more than I was awake. And, oh yeah, I was stone deaf.
|Lucy & Seamus|
In contrast, our heroic Jen is just about brimming with good health. She’s survived breast cancer, shoulder surgeries and, perhaps most impressive of all, she's withstood 23 years of BFF-ness with yurs truly, MOI.
|Me and Birthday Girl|
Problem. Though it warmed up to 43º yesterday, at 9:30 AM when we hit the beach, Nantasket was a mega blustery and chill 23º. //shiver// Yup, we ixnayed the walkie. What could I do to keep her away from home for another two and a half hours?!
|Oni and Bridget|
Do you mind if we stop at the crafts shop? I want to pick up some kite string and beads for light catchers. You know, like the ones we saw at The Surgeon’s House out in Arizona. ‘Member those? Hey, maybe you’d like to make some too, huh?
Well, that killed 45 minutes. Now what? Lowes! I need to pick up a humidifier for our bedroom. TAB got a bloody nose last night from all the dry air. Oh, while we’re here, let’s look in the kitchen counter department. You know, inspired by yours, I’m thinking about redoing ours.
30 minutes later, Jen sez I gotta get home. Oni and I need to run errands.
Shit! Time to get creative.
|Mother Donna, Uncle Bob and Erin|
TAB and Oni are OK, the hostage negotiators are making progress but we need to steer clear until, say, noon.
She bought it! Alright, I think she was a bit suspicious but, apart from one archly raised eyebrow (I’m SO damn jealous—I wish I could do that!) and a no, rilly, we were good.
As we neared Valhalla, Jen spied her mother’s and uncle’s cars. No, no, no, those belong to the negotiators. Don’t be silly.
I think she was onto my ultra clever (no?) ruse when, as we passed under her kitchen window, she spied her young nephew Patrick.
Ah well. She seemed surprised anyway.