Wednesday, August 22, 2012

My Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Every time I write in a diary (or online journal for the world to see) I think of Cecily Cardew from The Importance of being Ernest. As far as my knowledge goes she had the most wonderful diary ever. (I have a bit of a penchant for books written in diary or letter fashion). Cecily's diary was only a small piece in the play and really only mentioned in reference but it still sticks with me. She wrote in it all the things she wanted to happen as if they had happened already. She was engaged, broke it off, got back together and experienced a mad array of adventures in between, all before ever even meeting Algernon, her betrothed. 

And, while Cecily is tinkering with a bit of crazy, I do believe she (or rather Mr. Wilde) has touched on something brilliant. Why shouldn't we write down the things we want to happen? Isn't that what The Secret was trying to teach us? I think The Secret was just ripping dear old Oscar off. Believe what you want as if it has already happened and it will. And if it doesn't you'll still have a grand ole time in the process. 

Well, my dear Diary,

I had the dreaded doctors appointment today. I hate it when they poke and prod at my wrist. It swells up and hurts so much. Well that's what I would normally say, isn't it? But today was different. They x-rayed and poked and prodded and twisted and not a painful moment was to be had. Amazing, I know! The kind doctor (she's kind now that she isn't hurting me) told me that she's never seen anything like it and what had I been doing because the recovery is miraculous. Apparently, get this diary, I am in full remission. There is no more blasted RA anywhere to be seen. Well I explained to her v plainly that I had been following some orders; eating healthy and exercising every day, but that I had actually stopped taking any of my medication. I do hate sticking myself with needles. I dont' know how diabetics do it every day. Obviously they are made of sterner stuff. I explained to her that I had met a witch doctor. I know he's called a homeopath, there's no need to scold, but I think he seems more like a witch doctor and really, isn't that more fun? Anyhow, I told her how I am taking the special magic pills every night. As they dissolve on my tongue I chant the special mantra I learned, "I am healthy, I am pain free and I am western medicine free." About that, you know that I just love western medicine. I don't know what I would do without aleve, especially after a harrowing night on the sauce, but I don't want the mantra to assume the medication is helping so I make sure to include that last bit. Well, the good doctor was overwhelmed and so happy for me. She gave a me a watermelon jolly rancher (the best flavor) and sent me on my way. It's too exciting for words, so instead of writing anymore, I am going for a run in the park and then I shall do push ups until I faint. 

much love, 

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Husband and Wife

Dear Diary,

Wow, the wedding is over. I can't believe it. What an adventure that was. What a stressful and exciting and crazy adventure. I'm not sure if I feel any different. The engagement and the move, now those were life changers, but marriage. I mean, my insurance will be better and K will get a tax break and I have a million pretty pictures and I mean of course, yes I get to spend the rest of my life with someone I love, but I was planning on doing that anyway so what's changed? I suppose I am using the word husband quite frequently. I say it at the supermarket to the butcher, "I'm not sure my husband will like the chicken, do you have any steak?" I say it when friends ask for plans, "Let me ask my husband to see what he's up to." And people seem to say it to me all the time, "Get home to your husband" or "how's your husband?"

I feel awful saying this, even to you diary, but the day after the wedding, I cried. Hard and long, like huge sobs of relief and mourning and exhaustion. I was not depressed, I was tired and I think I was slightly in mourning. Not because getting married is like a kind of death, in fact marriage is more like a birth; a new relationship, a new adventure. But it is also an end to a different adventure. And I think that I was crying for that adventure. It was fabulous, my 35 years of marking the box single. I learned so many things and I had so much fun. Perhaps that's what marriage is. It's taking all those things I learned and all those things I should have known better and mixing them with all K's education and mistakes (did he make any of those?), adding all our old jokes and a brand spanking new joke book, stirring in extra vulnerability and a heaping of I've got your 6, adding a whole new set of people I can call family and who will be there for me in an instant. Yes, that's what it is. It's family. I'm making a new family and that kind of makes me cry with happiness because that's pretty special.

Last night I was in San Francisco with A, and I stayed out quite late. The drive home was just a bit more harrowing that I anticipated and I was a lot more tired. K stayed on the phone with me the entire drive. He just laid in bed, put me on speaker and chatted. He told me stories, he gossiped and he drove me all the way home.

I suppose things are different now. I mean I am still a bad ass and I will still be me, but I'm now me plus one.