crowing about my kids and why i love my friends.

i can be a one woman fan club. not in that i don't think i can do no wrong, just in the things that i choose to do, i do with a combination of dedication and passion, research and intuition. in this i can go forward confidently. i make mistakes, sure, a lot of them, but i only consider them mistakes when i don't try to learn from them.

i am supported by my husband, my family, and my friends.

so when i go about my life and my choices, home birth, co sleeping, extended breastfeeding, home schooling i just assume that the people in my life go right along with me. that they know me, they trust me, they get that i know what i'm doing.

this would be an incorrect assumption. not for all in my life, but for some.

in fact, a dear friend a few years ago actually said something to the effect

"you know, i was a little skeptical there for awhile about how your kids would turn out. but they're pretty cool."

oh dear. bless the 1000 mile distance between me and him. because as a parent, those are fightin' words for certain. plus, i'm bigger than him and could fully kick his ass.

he was referring to how long i breastfed them, how we chose to home school.

at first i was a little peeved, how could such a good friend not trust me? then i realized how could he know? he doesn't have kids, doesn't want them. to his mind i was probably doing everything i possibly could to fuck this parenting thing up somehow.

to him, how could i nearly die giving birth at home then go on to choose to do it again? how could sleeping with my child possibly be good for either one of us? and how in the world could i NOT fuck up a boy child by nursing him until he was three and a half?

i was moving forward in full confidence and he was holding his breath on the sidelines.

just because i have it in me doesn't mean others get it. and that's okay.

and i don't mind telling you that even i look at my kids and do a big old WHEW! that they are as awesome as they are. because sometimes it doesn't matter what you do as a parent or don't do as a parent. you get what you get. the kid is his own. you're the one who has to adapt. and you're the one who is the first to get blamed.

which brings me to a more recent interaction with another friend. again, no children. he expressed to me that he was impressed with how my kids were both intelligent AND engaged. seemed pleasantly surprised. so i asked

"you mean you were worried they wouldn't be?"

"honestly, yes."

"because of the home schooling? but you know me? didn't you think i could pull it off?"

i think he said no, but i must have blocked that part out. i still want to like him, after all. plus, he's bigger than me. i don't think i could take him.

and the conversation went to what he had thought about it, that he knew how hard it must be to parent let alone be the teacher too, etc. etc. etc.

i would choose to be irritated (and for a minute i was) but i know it comes from a place of love. of caring for me and ultimately my children. that if you don't see it up close on a day to day basis it can seem so other worldly. they spend all day together, they aren't with other kids their age on a regular basis, what the hell does she know about latin or the fall of the roman empire? and we all know she has NO business teaching anyone any math beyond second grade!

you know, that kind of thing.

all i know is i don't have any concrete answers to others' skepticism. actually, i do. come spend the day with my kids. hang out with them and you'll see it isn't weird. that they are both intelligent AND engaged, well rounded, that they haven't been fucked up, and as far as i know have no apparent breast fetishes.

they are snarky and sarcastic and hilarious, too. but now i'm just bragging.

all of this brings me to the following tidbit i'd like to share. and why having friends you love bring you down a peg or two is actually a gift. smack worthy, but a gift. because if you can't laugh with others at your own expense, where's the fun in life?

so recently the duke took his end of the year, two day test. this is a standardized test (they all are, right?) but i feel it's the best of the bunch. in my state you must test each child over the age of 8 every school year. it's incumbent upon the parent to facilitate this, and there are a lot of options.

i feel like the one i chose years ago and we continue to use is one of the best of the bunch. a student cannot pass or fail this test. the results from this test give an "objective picture of how your child or the typical child in a specific grade is progressing in school."

it also shows how a child has progressed in a certain area from year to year, where your child falls in terms of other children in his/her grade. it also shows "the grade level of students for whom a score is average or typical." meaning that the test measures your child's answer and determines what grade level that answer/thought process matches. for instance "a grade equivalent of 4.5 means that the child's score is about the same as what the typical score of children in the fifth month of the fourth grade would have been if these children had taken the same test."

so i'm explaining this all to the same friend who, out of love, expressed his pleasant surprise at how cool my children were. and i'm explaining that it doesn't mean that they are ready or able to do the work of that grade, but how they measure the maturity of the thought process and match it to the grade level.

"and you know what for the duke? in every area except reading vocabulary, which he scored 12.3 in, he scored PHS, which is post high school!"

then there was a moment when i was beaming. all happy to share this news. and i assumed he was taking in the awesomeness, further seeing how fabulous this home schooling thing was going. i was assuming full vindication was mine. then he said

"so what you're saying is, the duke can think like and solve problems the same way a college freshman would."

indeed.

to spite myself, i laughed.

and there you have it. because if your friends can't support you and love you AND give you shit then who can?

even if it's hard to tell which is which is which, or if they all aren't even separated at all.

x.

thursday evening wingman.

last night i was making the bed. it had been fully stripped earlier in the day and i was putting it all back together. this used to be a more daunting task when i went through the our bed needs to look like a hotel room bed phase. the only way a mattress cover and topper, six pillows, three sheets (yes, three), a bolster, a blanket a bed spread and a duvet, plus decorative throw is EVER a good idea is when someone else comes in to clean your room while you go off somewhere to eat, drink, sunbathe or shop.

wingman popped in after he put his pajamas on. he was chatting at me, per usual, about this and that. how he wanted to repaint his side of the room in the colors of his favorite baseball team. how he'd love a mini fridge and a toaster in there, too. about how he'd like his side of the room to smell like a hotel room.

(we're big suckers for hotels around here. i wonder what that says about us?)

so as he's talking and i'm interjecting the timely uh-huhs, and head nods, and oh reallys? i realize that he's automatically gone to the other side of the bed and is helping me. he's straightening the top sheet as he's chatting, helps me smooth out the blanket, and grabs up a pillow to cover.

i don't know that he's aware that he's doing it. he's just doing it. and it was all i could do to contain myself. it broke my heart in how it was just so sweet.

sometimes with children it's better to just let them break your heart, in a good and SILENT way, rather than pointing out that what they are doing is "a good thing," "helpful," or "cute."

but with all things wingman these days, the sweet lasts just so long until the baser parts of him take over. this usually includes, but is not limited to, the idea that either one of his parents is ever naked.

"mama, i really don't understand how you can sleep next to someone who doesn't wear a shirt to bed."

he's 8, so i decided to humor him. so with a big sigh i said

"well, when you love someone i guess you're willing to put up with a lot."

he's 8, so i decided to ALSO gross him out.

"you know, sometimes he even sleeps naked."

he broke into a fit of giggles and shouted

"OH MY GOD! that's SO GROSS!"

i thought he was going to pee his pants.

i remember thinking how he does. how in the world do people do that!?! be naked, have sex, kiss even. in fact i remember being his age watching television and just assuming that there was a clear glass wall separating the two people kissing. because that would be gross otherwise, right?

i love having little kids around. there's just something about being reminded about how simple the world really is.

that being said, getting over that was a part of growing up that did. not. suck.

x.

there's a reason lunatic comes from lunar.

it's a full moon.

i'm feeling twitchy, restless. also very sleepy.

i want everyone to come close and to go away. love me love me leave me the fuck alone.

i feel like anything can happen and that nothing is.

suffering as i do with depression i'd be inclined to believe, with all the signs, that this is the beginning of a cycle for me.

but i don't think it is this time.

i think it's just a matter of me on the edge waiting. having patience. and patience can be a bitch. because when you're waiting for a miracle, for the good stuff, patience is not only a virtue, it can also become an exercise in total frustration.

maybe it's because it's the full moon in capricorn. the exact zodiac opposite for me. that cold saturn energy trying to infuse into my warm moon energy. and i'm supposed utilize that energy during this time. to take stock, nurture my ambitions, make my dreams a reality. i am supposed to be "doing" something.

and i think i am supposed to find this all amusing.

actually, i still kind of do. the big cosmic joke, right? the cancer girl losing her home. but my cheeks are getting a little sore from all the smiling. and my arms are getting a little tired from all the juggling. and i'd like to go sit on a beach by myself until i'm done sitting on a beach by myself.

but (i'm a cancer, there's always a but), it's also the blessing moon this time around. time to count your blessings. to be grateful for what you have.

and i am. i can't imagine a better life for me. i don't know when i've been this excited to see what the next day will bring. my heart is full of life and love.

and to borrow a phrase from a friend, there's light at the end of the tunnel and it's not a train. and i believe that it truly is not a train.

so do i hunker down? do i force an action? what do you do when the whole world is at your feet? when the universe has its own plan and you're used to being in charge?

who in the hell knows. i think i might just channel siddhartha and think and wait and fast until it comes to me. until something happens that needs a reaction. (but not really "fast" fast, just metaphorically fast. because this girl doesn't fast. i mean, what if i got hungry?)

i do know this, though. i am so very glad i stopped writing poetry. because every awful poem i ever wrote came during the full moon. oh good lord but they were bad.

oh, so there's one more blessing to add to the pile. nice.

to mine AND yours as i won't be foisting bad poetry on you. right? i mean how much can i make you take? ;)

x.

p.s. you're welcome.

p.p.s. oh my god i just read my horoscope from free will astrology. maybe i should just shut up now. i think i will.

I believe that when you chatter carelessly about a big change that's in the works, you're in danger of draining it of some of its potency. So I don't want to trumpet or gossip about the gift that's on its way to you. I'll just mention that it's coming, and urge you to prepare a clean, well-lit place for it to land. Here's a hint: It could, among other things, help you convert one of your vulnerabilities into a strength or inspire you to start transforming an area of ignorance into a future source of brilliance.

place value.

so i recently went to my hometown for my high school reunion. i made it there and back in one piece. though i will admit this is the first time as a full grown adult that i left a little piece of myself in my hometown.

because while i went for my reunion i ended up reconciling with a place that is at best bittersweet for me. and that took a little out of me. and i left it there.

with high hopes that the sun and soil will nurture it better this time around.

i won't bore you with the details of my growing up there, but will say that it was shocking for me to learn just how much i had built up this kind of mythology about it. how attached i have become. because all the other times i visited i didn't feel it. i didn't have this kind of little pit in my stomach about it.

and maybe it was just a combination of events. being alone in my hotel (i am never alone) and staying up too late and reconnecting and letting loose. there's something to be said for routine and stability for keeping the demons at bay.

which brings me to the first morning after i arrived and finding myself in a pool of tears on the most humongous king sized bed i've ever seen. why am i crying? what is this? oh, you have to ask? really? says that voice inside. you know why you're crying.

and what started it was talking with a friend on the phone. about an issue of his. 1000 miles away and not even part of "this." we discussed his issue and when we were done he asked me what i was going to do that day. i mentioned with no family left in my hometown i had no real obligations except to my friends later. and he said

"oh, you should drive by your old house or something."

and that was it. i was a crying mess for two hours after that. what is it about childhood that makes it so hard to get out alive and intact? not all childhoods, but some. mine.

what is it about childhood that doesn't let you forget. ever. and what i thought i dealt with didn't even make it to the second afternoon.

what is it about pain that enables it to hide away for so long? in plain sight. to know it's there, to have occasions with it, but not let it get to you. to be able to keep going and just ignore it.

and then you're in some hotel off the highway in your hometown and it's standing in front of you. and it's no longer giving you the opportunity to choose. because it's not going anywhere.

i didn't learn enough as a child, a teenager. not about the world, except the small world around me. and that was learning, but also just a matter of surviving. i look back and i can't believe i did it. got up each day. figured it out each day. know what to do when i had no clue.

i didn't learn enough about my hometown and the valley it sits in. and when i go back i just get that full force. this is where you are from, going back generations, and you have no fucking clue what it is even about. you have no idea.

place is so important. sure, wherever you go there you are and all that. but my god you came from somewhere, and that sticks with you. wherever you go you came from somewhere.

and for me, the quadruple cancer girl, home and hearth and all that is about as important as it gets. and to know that i have no real connection now to the place of my birth, that i didn't learn enough about it when i was growing up there sits awkwardly on my heart.

please understand, it wasn't all tragic and awful. there was a lot of love. there was. a lot of love. and sometimes love is enough. and sometimes it isn't. it's not enough when it can't protect you.

and looking back on it now, the visit, a week out, i see that i didn't even want to try and see it this time. the town. wanted to be there, but not be present. because the whole time i was there i didn't wear my glasses. i had them on on the way from the airport, and took them off right when i got into town.

then it wasn't until we were hitting the highway to go back to the airport that i put them back on again.

and so the whole time i was walking around, riding around, hanging around i was in a kind of a haze. not up close, but surrounding me. a way to be there but not fully be there. funny how we can call up the same old coping skills and just transform them for the time.

humans are so fascinating. especially the silly mortals.

and people ask me why are you so attached to being jewish, you know having "just" found out about it? how come you fell into it so fully?

and i think it's because i need to come from somewhere and understand it. to not need it fuzzed out around me. to not blur the edges in favor of protecting the hurts. i need to have a place to start from that is tangible and accessible to me. i need a history that is bigger than the pain that surrounds it.

and damn, if that isn't some shit right there, right? being jewish somehow gives me a history to attach to less painful than the one i experienced on janna ave?

jesus, between that and not wearing my glasses i think i could be a psychiatrist's wet dream.

but hey, it's just because it was "my" history that makes it so intense. it's nothing if not all relative, right?

so where do i go from here?

forward. ever forward. because i made it there and back. nearly whole, even.

and i'll do the same thing i do for every difficult moment.

i'll open my heart and i'll open my arms.

i will love the shit out it.

x.

y.m., y.m., ymca. c.a., c.a., camp.

the duke of fun left for summer camp this morning.

the same summer camp the lord of the ring went to for 9 years. the same one the duke's been going to since he was 9. in one of the most beautiful places on this big hunk of green and blue rock. yes, i am totally jealous. yes, i am totally thrilled.

can i just say that i love summer camp? summer camp for the duke, and starting next year for wingman, is not only TOTALLY AWESOME, but it's also my own personal backup to insure my kids aren't assholes.

just so we're clear, my kids are not assholes. but i maintain that things can change. and puberty and young adulthood can do a number on even the coolest kid in the world. you just never know, so having all the backup you can get is a good idea.

i also maintain that, given my experience, no serious camp person can be 100% asshole. it's nearly impossible. it just doesn't happen.

you understand, this is an informal and non scientific finding at best, but i'm sticking by it.

so the first year he went i remember crying after he left and holding my breath until he came home.

cut to four years later to this morning when i sent him off with a hug and a kiss and told him to have fun. not a teardrop in sight.

interesting.

as a parent you can see your kids growing and changing and evolving, and you forget that you do too. that it isn't a one way street.

the first few years he was obviously much younger. you worry so much about so much. and not that i don't worry as he gets older, i just have passed some of that responsibility on to him. he is becoming his own person, moving about in the world without needing me to approve or disapprove of his every action.

the instructions get fewer each year. now he knows he needs to drink lots of water and apply sunscreen more than once a day. i don't have to tell him that anymore. now he knows that his bunk mates will ALWAYS knock off his ever present and much beloved yankee's hat. it's a given. and he knows that all he has to say is "dude, that's not cool," and it usually stops.

now I KNOW not to even mention how much i would love for him to send me one measly letter from camp. because I KNOW it's not going to happen. see, i'm learning too. (though i did pack self addressed stamped envelopes and paper just. in. case. shocking, i know.)

this year i sent him off with the same thing i sent him off with last year, a well packed bag and the following

"all you really have in life is your good name. and once you mess with that or tarnish it it can be very difficult for people to move beyond that. so you need to make good choices to stay safe and to maintain credibility."

he's in a new group this year. with actual teenagers. real live living breathing teenagers. which prompted a new piece of advice and the following conversation

"individually boys your age are pretty cool, same with girls your age. but remember how we talked about when kids get together they give up their own brains in favor of a group brain?"

"yeah, especially girls."

"well, let's not be so gender specific, but yes. so if all these kids are sharing a brain maybe some of the choices the group makes aren't so well thought out, you know what i mean? one brain to share doesn't allow for a lot of thought."

"yeah, i don't have to go along with what some other kid or kids are doing. i still have to think for myself."

"right. you ask yourself, is this a good choice? what would my parents think about this choice?"

"yeah, plus i don't want to be somebody's sidekick."

"well, if it's a real cool kid who makes good choices then that wouldn't be so bad, right? to be his sidekick?"

"but, mama? that's just called being a friend."

indeed.

just so you don't think i've given wingman away or anything, he's still here and i will share with you the following conversation from yesterday to prove it.

we were sitting on the porch playing a united states of america geography game. he asked me the following question

"what is the capitol of connecticut?"

"oh, i know this. hmm, i know it's NOT new canaan."

"quick! think of whitey ford!"

"who in the world is whitey ford? and how does this help me!"

"mama, he's a famous baseball player."

"oh, who does he play for?"

"MAMA he's DEAD!"

for eight years old he sure has irritated sighing down to the letter. i CANNOT imagine for the life of me where he gets it.

"why are we talking about him then? how does this help me!"

"mama, the capitol of connecticut is hartford. get it? ford? as in whitey ford? i figured THAT was a really big clue. geeze."

right. sure. good lord.

wingman could write a book with what i don't know. you know, about all the really important pressing issues of our time. he could call it things my mother should know and just doesn't.

i bet i know who he could get to co-author that book.

x.

if it sounds like a lot of drinking was involved, it's because there was.

okay, i just want to say that i highly recommend three days in a hotel room by yourself. i recommend drinking too much with your friends and sleeping too little. i recommend going for the shoes just because they're awesome. i recommend embracing every moment.

i do not recommend forgetting to put something in your body other than what comes in a glass. or sitting by the pool in 107 degrees.

the short version is that the reunion weekend was a smashing success. from the start to the finish i couldn't have had a better time.

the long version is a bit wordier. more convoluted. a reconciling with the past with an eye towards the future. i don't understand how i live so far from my friends. i am amazed at how much my heart expands when i'm with them. and i am ecstatically pleased to report the acquisition of some "new" friends. people i've known more than half my life but only just now "met."

i was also amazed to learn that everything i felt in high school is what everyone else was feeling too. which is weird because i'm a smart girl. but it was definitely an eye opening, well duh! moment or two or seven to get that.

and i guess i'm happy to know i can still learn from the people around me. be surprised by how life turns out. to know i wasn't alone in feeling the out of body experience that was adolescence.

how any of us gets out alive i will never know. actually, that's not true. i do know. my friends saved me. meeting them then made all the difference in the world. with so many arms to hold you aloft it's easy to make it through the mire.

what really amazed me though was how lonesome so many people admitted to being in high school. even those with so many friends around and those with the apparent trappings of high school "success." at the core we were all just silly mortals. i wish i knew that then. i'm glad to know that now.

and what i really enjoyed was the time to be me. rather to remember that deep down inside i'm still the girl i always was. am. no i didn't dance on any speakers, but i got to decide when and where for the whole time there with no thought to anyone else.

and while i don't think i'd care for that lifestyle for more than a few days, it was really great for the time. i think that as parents and partners we tend to over time soften up that core "us." blend it with the family core. which is what i've always wanted all my life and appreciate the most about the life i have. but if who i was got me to where i am today, i want to embrace her and let her know i know she's still there.

and along with that, i am appreciative of the wisdom and experience i have to fully embrace those moments that come when you are hanging out for a big chunk of time with a group of people. that when someone reached out to me i was able to reach back. that i was able to clutch the hand that grabbed mine. to respond to the well timed embrace. to listen to the words that sometimes came with tears. to say i know, i get it, i understand.

and it's the same as it was then. because while we've grown and acquired all the things that certify us as actual adult human beings, we all just want the same things we wanted then.

to be seen, to be understood, to be loved.

now lest you think it was all tearful hand holding and introspection, it wasn't. thank god, right?

okay, so there are some stories i could tell you, but because the interwebs are becoming an increasingly small place for me i won't. because whether people recognize themselves in print or just assume, it's murky. sorry. maybe over a little whiskey by a bonfire one evening in person, but not here.

i will say this, i don't recommend going up to a greek orthodox father in full collar and everything standing with his wife and opening with an overly enthusiastic

"oh my god, hi! i think of you almost every day!"

yeah. not so much with the smooth. his wife had a look on her face that is nearly indescribable. which as you can imagine is a very difficult thing for me to admit to. as generally this is my forte. but i truly can't describe it.

in my defense, and yes i have one, i do think of him often. but only because the duke has been learning academic/classical greek for years and wingman starts in the fall. and i think of him because one of the elements to the curriculum is ecclesiastical. and since he's the only greek orthodox father i "know" he pops into my head.

i explained this, of course. but, yeah. the whole package deal was a little much for them.

i also don't recommend grabbing someone too tightly and badgering them with repeated "oh my god why weren't we friends in high school! you're so awesome!"

i was told this could be construed as creepy or needy. i thought it rather endearing. go figure.

i did stop shy of the alternative to that which is "oh my god why didn't we date in high school!"

now i can agree that THAT might be a bit awkward.

and i will admit to taking sadistic pleasure in seeing the girl who bullied me in junior high and who continued to be a bitch in high school weeping more than once during the evening. and still not know how to dance. or dress.

it was beautiful. so there. i said it.

there were some mishaps to the evening, as there generally are with me. i narrowly missed having a three foot tall, ultra heavy stone standing ashtray take out my leg. as in i was chatting with someone, heard something fall behind me, only to say "huh, what was that noise?" and then look behind me and see this huge thing a fraction of an inch from my heel. oy.

that might have put a damper on an otherwise fabulous evening.

i also had an entire glass of beer fully spilled onto my chest and down into the front of my dress. oh, my the look on his face was priceless. i think he thought i was going to take my shoe off and beat him with it right then and there.

but i wasn't angry, just momentarily stunned. i did find my words when he took his napkin as if he was going to mop it up himself. a natural reaction, sure, but i quickly assured him i was okay and yes, i'll be mopping it up myself thankyouverymuch.

it was 7000 degrees in that place if it was anything. i think i lost weight just standing there. and the food was not bad, but it wasn't good either. regardless, everyone was raving about it. oh, this is so good, they were all saying. and i was like, do you people never eat out? really? but one of the waiters was supah cute so i kept up the pretense of taking food from him just to keep him coming back.

hey, this girl had no date. you've got to take what you can get.

and it was good just to be out in the street too late at night. slightly tipsy and surrounded by friends. knowing you're better off going to bed, but letting things happen as they will. flirting with the pretty girls, enjoying the charms of the boys. how quickly a group can fall into a pattern.

we forget this in our day to day. that life offers so much more than we are usually exposed to, used to experiencing. and sometimes it's good to not over think it. because when i'm nearing the end of my days here i don't think i'll be lying in bed wishing i had gone home earlier.

so that's done. one more boxed checked off in the grand list of life experiences. only this time the build up wasn't a precursor to a let down.

and as i left and was being driven to the airport i actually "forgot" to be freaked out in the car, so consumed with thought and a comfortable sleepiness. i can't say i even much noticed the traffic around us. as you know, this doesn't happen. ever.

and the time going home just flew. the wait in the airport the plane ride the shuttle ride. i was home before i knew it.

and i'm glad to be home, to kiss the lord of the ring, to hug my boybarians, to fight for bed space with the cats. but i still feel like went by too quickly. which is funny because i remember having the exact same thought the last few days before high school graduation.

more often than not all of life just goes by too quickly. especially the good stuff. so when you get the chance, fully embrace it when it's in front of you.

you'll be glad you did.

x.

the day i married the most beautiful girl in the world.

the goddess mother and le petit prince
winter 2004



11 years ago, a lifetime it seems, i joined the goddess mother and her beloved in holy matrimony.

or, you know, as holy of matrimony as this fully ordained by mail order minister can.

the day of the wedding started off fine. i had been staying in my hometown for nearly a week. i was with the duke, who had just turned 1. i had made it through a wedding shower, a bachelorette party, and various wedding preparations and was still standing.

and now, in the hotel room i was putting the final touches on the ceremony while trying to keep a 1 year old out of trouble. hotel room? seems fairly benign, right? but you'd be surprised how much trouble a kid who's too young to be interested in television can get into in a hotel room.

plus, i was using a laptop. this was 11 years ago. using a laptop was new and uncharted territory for me. shit, i still have problems, but i think that's just me. oh, i know it's just me.

okay, so i was waiting for the lord of the ring to arrive from the airport and take over duke duties so i could 1.) finish the ceremony (largely written for months, but there are those details) 2.) get hair and make-up done, 3.) and deal with any other fires that came my way.

he arrived and things were going smoothly and well. i managed to be on time for hair and make-up, although, as you know by now with me and being in public, that was not without its troubles.

the make-up "artist" was a woman of certain age who believed that the more make-up the better. fine. i tried to tell her i wanted it simple, enough to show up in photos, but not too bold or bright.

the first thing she said to me after i said that was

"ugh. you young girls and your eyebrows! why there is so much shame in grooming your eyebrows i don't know! i just don't have time to do anything about them today! ugh. what a distraction. and don't even get me started on your upper lip! there is JUST NOT TIME!"

i do often wonder what it's like not to be me.

my hair was another matter. to make a long story short, don't barter house cleaning for a cut and color job. especially AFTER you've already fulfilled your end of the bargain. this being the late 90s, what i wanted to be lisa loeb like chunky light highlights on my dark hair ended up being very bottle blond, frosted almost. it was not pretty.

needless to say, i ended up with bold and bright make-up and the hair didn't fare much better.

no doubt probably in an attempt to distract from the circus side show going on on my face.

in short, in every photo i looked older than i was, and brittle, and very much like someone who spent too many hours each day snorting coke, but was still able to get a hot meal on the table before passing out.

but i'm getting ahead of myself.

so i get hair and make-up out of the way and head back to the hotel. and because the lord of the ring is the shit, the duke has been napped and changed and bathed and dressed. they are both ready to go. right on schedule.

so i get dressed and grab the disk for the ceremony and we head to kinko's to print it out before continuing on to the church.

and this is where the best laid plans of the silly mortal go awry. there is simply nothing on the disk. i know i copied the ceremony to the disk, but it won't print out. sorry, they say. it looks like it's a faulty disk, they say. and by now i'm standing in the middle of kinko's with a show stopping performance begging them to fix what they cannot, to make something be there that isn't.

nothing.

and now, now we are running late. the church is outside of town and we are downtown. there is no time to do anything else. we have to go.

so i'm in the passenger's seat trying not to freak out. what the hell am i going to do? i've had the bulk of the ceremony in my head for months, sure. but that's not enough. because it's only the bulk, not all of it! and this wasn't my first wedding, so i knew from experience that i tend to get nervous at the beginning, and i NEED a written back up to help get me through until i get comfortable.

we're driving down the road and i shout

"turn here!"

"where are we going?"

"just turn here and go straight! turn right at the next light!"

bless his heart. then and now the lord of the ring knows to just go with it. meaning me. more often than not you will hear him say, "hey, i'm just here to drive."

"turn in here!"

"ernie's liquors? what are we doing here?"

ernie's liquors is the neighborhood liquor store. my old neighborhood liquor store. i went in there with my father when i was a child. and on this day it was going to represent my salvation.

okay, so i'm not saying when the shit hits the fan you should drink. though i hear that works sometimes. what i am saying is when you are sitting in the front seat of the car, freaking out, nearly throwing up with fear, and you are late to an event where a whole hell of a lot of people are waiting for you, well, you do what you can.

i raced in the liquor store, grabbed a bottle of jagermeister and then ran up to the counter. i was now nearly 15 minutes? 30 minutes? late. and there was a line.

a line? this place is the size of a shoebox! but sure enough there were three people in front of me.

i tried breathing through the first customer. in and out. i can do this, i said. but had absolutely no luck. by now i was sweaty and about to go ballistic. so by the second customer i decided to take matters into my own hands.

"i am so sorry but i am late for a wedding and i'm the minister!! please please let me go ahead of you!!"

they didn't buy it. at least the customer already at the counter didn't. he took one look at my clinging dress, (i was wearing a robe over it for the ceremony) my strappy heels, my garish hair and make-up, and the bottle of jager in my hands and i don't think he was thinking "minister."

he was probably thinking something, but i can just about bet it didn't have anything to do with weddings or god.

thankfully the guy in front of me let me cut. he even shouted good luck as i ran out the door.

"i'm riding in the back! please drive fast, but not so fast that we get a ticket. but kinda fast!"

and again, to his credit, the lord of the ring didn't say one. measly. word. about me sitting in the back chugging jagermeister and muttering to myself and jotting down notes on a scrap of paper while on the way to a wedding we were by now very late for. a wedding where *I* was the one person who had to be on my game. not. one. word.

thankfully, the duke was asleep and so i had some quiet in the back seat. you know, to drink and freak out. it's better with quiet.

by the time we arrived at the church i don't know how late we actually were. 30 minutes? 45?

the goddess mother's parents had those bright but thin smiles on their faces i had seen so many times in our youth. especially whenever i was present. they had only recently begun to understand and accept me as i was, then their daughter had to go and tell them i was conducting her wedding ceremony. in their home church. oy.

and here i was, fucking it up just as they had probably suspected i would.

thankfully, the goddess mother, although peeved i'm sure, was all business and was more forgiving and waved off all my explanations.

"let's just get started."

so we did. i mopped up all my sweat, checked for lipstick on my teeth, and threw on my robe.

can i just interject something here about the lipstick? it was still fully present and looked great despite all the back seat chugging. regardless of her chair side manner, that make-up artist sure knew her lipstick and i was right then and there grateful for her piling it on as she had.

i was introduced and made it up to the podium without falling or throwing up. which i counted as a personal triumph. and then i started the ceremony off without a hitch.

it was going beautifully.

i was missing only one thing.

the bride and groom.

nice.

sigh. big deep breath and i said

"i'm sorry. i am SO nervous. you know what, i'm going to start over."

and then i laughed. and they all laughed.

and then i started over.

and i don't know what happened or how i did it, but i nailed it. with no notes, a belly full of jagermeister, and so totally nervous i could have started laughing or crying and never stop, i did it. the whole thing was perfect and went off without a further hitch.

because when i saw the goddess mother walking towards her beloved it just clicked. and everything i felt about her, had felt for so much of my life, all of that deep love and respect and admiration just materialized on my tongue. i was graced by her grace, and that carried me. and the relationship she asked me to make official was right. right there in front of me and inside of me was just love. and that love translated into words that made it out of my mouth and made sense.

it was beautiful.

afterward, people approached me to tell me how beautiful they thought it was, too. and the goddess mother's parents were thrilled and it signaled what was and is a whole new chapter in our relationship. and now they are as grateful for my presence in her life as i have always been for her presence in mine.

it's never occurred to me to do things the way they "should" be done. and while i look back on it now i think, yeah, perhaps that wasn't the wisest course. think of what could have happened. etc. etc. etc. it could have definitely become a cautionary tale. because lord knows i'm REALLY good at creating those.

but at the time, everything i chose to do all seemed to make sense. and in the end, it did.

because i suppose in the end it's about trusting what's in your heart and just going from there. and because when you love somebody you can make anything make sense.

i am happy to report the goddess mother and her beloved are still married. with two beautiful children who are their spitting image.

and even happier to report that she is still my very best friend and i still think she is the most beautiful girl in the world.

x.