Prom!

Peg's doing Zoë's nails this morning in the living room. They're discussing eyebrows, eyeliner and all that girly stuff that's off my radar (welding steel tubing, not a problem; applying makeup...not so much).

Zoë has Guster blasting on iTunes in the kitchen. Fun to hear them chatting.

This is Phase One in a day-long process. Around 3 it's showtime for hair and makeup. Then the gown and heels. Late this afternoon our friend Bruce Patt is going to photograph her "group date" (nine kids, both genders). Then dinner at a neighborhood restaurant and on to the dance.

Zoë told us last night the anticipation and preparation is the best part--the dance itself is okay, but not great, sometimes depending on the ratio of fun dance music to not so fun rap.

And me? Our little patch of grass in the back yard is so long it's gone to seed. The weed whacker is calling...

Special photos

I've always loved this photo, taken in my parents' driveway in Grand Junction, Colorado in November 1986. I had bailed on a job opening at a TV station in San Diego because I could not think about leaving Peg.  Nothing had ever felt so right.

As I've gone through the albums and shoeboxes, there have been lots of photos through the years with our arms wrapped around each other tightly, but this is my favorite. Two months into our relationship...we knew.

Here's another favorite, from January of '87, at a cabin in Point Reyes, California on a trip to see Peg's sister and her family:

 

Sometimes I imagine photos as a trigger for memories to be replayed exactly as I experienced them. And it works, in bits and pieces. On this trip, making cioppino with Jeanette and Greg. Taking a walk in almost pitch blackness with Peg through the forest road.

Sometimes I wish fervently I could just dive in and replay every moment, exactly as it happened. There's probably a very good reason we can't do that. We'd be stuck there, as wonderful a place as it was to be stuck. An endless loop of what was that puts off forever what is to become.

On we go.

Peg's newly colorful nest

Our friend Chris rectified Peg's boring pillowcase situation today with her beautiful creations. Much more Peg's style. Here she is on the phone, ignoring the paparazzi (that would be Marlene and I jumping around with Marlene's iPad, me asking dumb questions about what button to push. Some folks assume I'm a techno-geek...I'm actually a bit of a Luddite).

On her doctor's advice, we bumped up the Fentanyl patch from 50mcg to 75mcg. It was like flipping a switch. She was able to go strong all day, good appetite, no morphine. Turns out that with some patients the patch starts to run out of gas after two days, not three...and Peg is probably one of those patients. At some point soon we'll find a rhythm with the meds; we'll dial it in so that pain management is something that's easy and routine.

Spent a fun evening going through her old photo albums from before we met, pulling out prints to send to friends and relatives. Ran across one of my very favorite images of Peg, taken on Cape Cod in 1986, just after we were introduced:

I think it really captures her in a way I can't adequately put into words. It's just always spoken to me. Love that sweet face.

Another surprising gem from the vault

I admit it. I've become a total pig for the individual packets of old photos unearthed from the two giant cardboard boxes. It's like being made privy to secret visions of a forgotten world (with the added bonus of seeing us with dark hair).

We hand-painted our wedding invitations with watercolors, then hand-glued and assembled all 150 of them. This was taken in April of 1987. We had just cut them all to size by hand after they'd dried.

I love the way Peg's hand wraps around my neck, and how her head is close to mine. That's how we roll. We've created this life together in the 25 years since this photo was taken, and now we're creating how it will pass.

Peggy was tired today. Really weary. I try not to read too much into her energy level or appetite, because things can change so quickly...and because I have a good imagination and can go on all kind of tangients without a moment's hesitation.

Peg's women's group

About the same time I took this picture, in 1989, Peg joined a wonderful group of women who have met consistently twice a month since then. We've all gone through a lot together, and they are true and solid companions on this leg of the journey, as they have been all along. I'm thankful for every one of them.

Tonight they held the meeting at our house. Thai food and love--the perfect mix.

Peg started the day out strong-- walked from the living room to the bathroom and back, sans walker and unassisted. Whomped down quiche and melon. Full of piss & vinegar (I know, it contradicts the previous sentence, but hey). Amazing what doubling up on the Fentanyl and not having to deal with pain for the first time in days will do.

This afternoon, though, the granola she had for lunch threw her for a loop. Hard to digest. Lots of horizontal time. Late afternoon found her thoroughly poohed, although she rallied for the arrival of the group and enjoyed our conversation while she was in "social sleeping" mode on the living room bed.

Tonight she enjoyed relaxing in that cushy bed, soaking in all of our shenanigans without any need to chip in or respond. A lot of visits with friends are like that. When she rallies, she goes back to her perch on one of the two big La-Z-Boys that used to live in her psychiatric office a thousand years ago.

Still going through the boxes of old photos. Been sneezing for an hour from all the dust. Can't believe we waited until this point in Peg's life, after hauling them all the way from Colorado and parking them in a closet for 24 years, to go through them.

Shoe boxes full of gold

Got a wild hair up my ass and pulled all our old photo boxes out of their hidey holes today. Had a blast with Peg and Zoë going through pictures from even before I knew her. Got to see the guys she dated before me (loooooo-serrrrrrrrrs!)

Ran across this wonderful photo

 of Peg and I planting one of four redwoods in our back yard. The trees are now well over 60 feet tall, and Zoë has climbed almost to the top of her favorite many, many times. And enticed her friends to do the same, much to the chagrin/horror of their mothers.

Peg's doing much better today. Our doc said to double up on the Fentanyl patches, and voila'--no more reaching for the  morphine. She's much more relaxed not having to be as concerned about pain management, and Fentanyl doesn't zonk her. Yay!

Ted, no ka oi*

Our friend Ted, who I've known for 33 years, had a brief stop in the Bay Area on his way to Florida and spent the afternoon here. He's lived on Maui for 19 years.

Seems like a thousand years ago we were having brunch on our back deck with Ted and our mutual friend Kathy Smick when they launched from our house for a ski trip in the Sierras, but it's only been around 20.  I have no explanation for the mustache. Seriously...what was I thinking?

Kathy passed from breast cancer on October 17,  2007.  I can still hear her voice and see her so clearly in my mind that it's hard to wrap my head around the fact that she's no longer with us. Inside my little world, she still lives near Santa Barbara, making wonderful jewelry and knowing more about rocks and minerals than some geologists. We'll keep in touch.

I took Ted on a 15-mile ride on the American River Bike trail, me on my older (non-racing) recumbent bike, Ted on the trike. He had a blast...said his gums were getting dried out from smiling so much. It was so good to connect with him again. Thankful he was able to spend some time with us.

At one point, Ted was certified for massage therapy and was famous (at least at our house) for "cracking" toes. You know, when they make that vaguely disconcerting but deeply satisfying popping sound. Peg's lower digits wouldn't budge; maybe the morphine made them too relaxed to release the nonexistent tension. It was sweet to see Ted, who's 6'4", perched on the edge of the living room bed with Peg's small foot in his hands, framed by the fading afternoon light.

* "no ka oi" is Pidgin for "the best"

Double date night

Joyce, our friend of 23 years and her wonderful husband Eric brought chicken-barley soup that Eric made and a birthday cake for me to boot. Spent a lot of time laughing our asses off tonight.  Zoë arrived safely around midnight from her long trek, poohed but happy.

I feel the need to interpret this photo...Joyce and I toiled for the same TV station in the late 80's-early 90's, and in order to survive the corporate BS we invented self-proclaimed "theme days." This was "polyester day." We also did "punk rock day" and "Republican day," complete with starched shirts and ties. As Hunter S Thompson correctly proclaimed, "when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

Peg did some "social sleeping" tonight. The Fentanyl patch is still kicking in, but we haven't got the pain relief rhythm yet (hell, Peg's German and I'm Scottish/Norwegian...how much chance do we really have for rhythm anyway?) Dipping into the morphine quite a bit the last few hours.

But that's what we're after, keeping her comfortable. Morphine, shmorphine.