In Which It's All Fun and Games Until The Po Po Steps In

Okay, so this past week Big Mar and I drove up to the picturesque Hudson Valley to visit my big bro and lovely SIL, Leslie. It's a bit of a jaunt north, but once we hit the 287 interchange... Jesus it's a fun drive, speeding along at a healthy 80+ clip.

Hey, I'm just keeping up with traffic, yo.

This factoid will come back to haunt me later.

While Big Mar slept, Leslie and I headed to our usual swimming haunts in the river and under the falls, walked the Hudson walkway and ate at various diners.

*note:this chattier section is greyhound fueled. I've been sitting on the deck, in the heat imbibing on what is the end of my first week of vacation. BTW, a greyhound is comprised of grapefruit and my best friend, vodka.

additional side note: that last sentence took me six tries to type correctly.

additional side note squared: Geo thinks it's weird that I drink alone sometimes. I say join me and I won't be alone, right? Besides, someone is drinking somewhere. Step back, dude. I'm a happy tipsy doofus, dammit! Besides it's the heat, not the alcohol getting to me....ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz

*snort*

But I digress...

Note to self:
these rocks are fucking slippery even with new
Keen water shoes
Seriously, ridiculously slippery
so NOT graceful here in the waters

the river is much easier to maneuver my
graceless ass through

Hudson River Walkway
this sombitch is HIGH

majorly high freaking bridge
geo would HATE IT
me, I hate my hair
Jesus Christmas wtf?

lovely vista from the bridge

Every morning I was greeted by this mug.

who could resist this face
especially when it's attached to such
teeny-tiny legs

Is that not the cutest face EVAH?

P.S.: water dogs are the best fun, except for the shedding... and the drooling... and the water smell. Other than that, they're pretty damn irresistible. Seriously cute.

This time around we did the fat-ass rich people's tour of the Vanderbilt mansion.

"oh this little thing. It only has room for 30."

back stairwell to servants quarters
you know there was some shenanigans going on here

This is the smallest of the 42 mansions. Some people have waaaaay too much dough. Am I right?

And then because we're so sophisticated, we had tea at the nearby town of Beacon where we also stumbled upon the grooviest of groovy toy stores filled with high-brow items as these.

Clearly he is the life of the party 

Boobie BALLS!!
Yay!

So how do you like my new short-as-shit haircut? It's as disheveled as my mind. Whatev. Unlike my ill-fated Skipper doll of yore, this hair grows back.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the art exhibit. One of the things I really enjoy about the New Paltz area is the prevalence of artists. We stopped by a walk-in closet sized gallery on Market Street to discover this exhibit of clothing made from waxed paper. Not even kidding. Waxed paper.

never would have guessed she was an artist
she strikes me as a librarian

Translucent paper garments floating. It was really cool. The artist, Kate Hamilton was hanging around for us to get the lowdown. Some people are so clever.

The other thing I love about New Paltz is the fact it has the most fabulous tie-dye store anywhere. It's called Blueberry something or other. I don't know. I don't care at this drunken point. I just know where it's located. They have the BEST tie-dyed garments. The yoga pants... to die for. Seriously comfortable and make everyone's bottom look luscious. I am not even kidding. They are like miracle pants. If they weren't inanimate objects I would consider having an affair with them. They talk so pretty in my ear. Plus Blueberry has the most adorable children's clothes. Is there anything more "Awwww" worthy than a beautiful cherub in masterfully crafted tie-dye? I think not.

But, alas. Even hippies can be dickish.

????

Passive/Aggressive much?

Anywho, we had a great time visiting and buying unnecessary shite to lug home in our little red batmobile. Awwww, but Mercury (the universe's right-royal bastardo) is in retrograde. Big Mar and I were 20 miles from home when I saw this in the rearview mirror.

FUUUUUUDGE!!

Nabbed. Speeding. Nothing puts a damper on a good time like a set of flashing cherry tops bouncing off the mirror. But I swear I wasn't going as fast as he says. I was just keeping up with traffic.

This time I'm fighting the man, if only to get the points removed. To his credit, the officer was very sweet, so maybe I'll catch a break from the court. From Geo... aye yai yai. Maybe not so much. He doesn't know yet, so shhhhhhhh! Ixnay on the ickettay.

Oh Holy CRAP!!?! Now this.

That is one sad sight, indeed.

Mercury, you're a mean mother.

File Under "Seriously, WTF?!?"
or dude, I would have loved to be in on this meeting

Okay, so the savvy folks at Summer's Eve, you know the douche bags who make douches, pulled all their creative resources and decided the answer to sagging sales was a talking vagina. Or as some of the ads refer to it as "vertical smile".

No shit.

A talking vag.

Okay a feminine hand symbolizing a talking vag. Same diff. Thank God it wasn't a hairy male hand. Hey, wait a minute. That would have been more accurate than those Brazilians...

Ewwwwww.

Anywho, Conan was the first to give the femme product a spin.



Oh Conan. You rock.

The original ad both repels and amuses me in that shocked, deer-in-the-headlights, can-they-really-do-that-on-television disbelief way. Seriously. There are some meetings that deserve ticket purchases to witness the evolution of such a train wreck of an idea.

Last week The Colbert Report weighed in on the vaginal puppeteering.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Vaginal Puppeteering vs. D**k Scrub
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog Video Archive

"This is America. Our vaginas speak English."

Enduring the embarrassment of personal girlie products publicly broadcast is so much more palatable with these two hysterical guys on the planet.

In Which Computer Geeks Do Yours Truly A Major Solid

Okay, so today was full of special treats. First, I'm on vacation for two whole weeks which, Hello... is enough to celebrate like sailors on leave right there, but it also means it's Card Club girls' weekend away. Me and the gal pals decided to stay local this year, just chilling poolside under a cloudless sky, observing Happy Hour and stuffing our collective gullets to bursting.

stuffed chicks floating

Femme Hog Heaven.

Then once I got home, my uber thoughtful Geo surprised me with the original Pee Wee Herman Show from HBO on the DVR. This classic is still as hysterical as it was back in 1981. It stars a very young Paul Reubens (Pee Wee), Edie McClurg (Hermit Hattie) and the one and only Phil Hartman (Kaptain Karl--oh how I miss thee, Phil.) as well as various other more-than-slightly skewed children's programming characters.

Oh...A sailor travels anywhere/anywhere he pleases
but he always remembers to wash his hands
so's he don't get no...diseases

Back then Geo and I watched this show so often we memorized the entire hour. It never fails to make us howl even 30 years later. It's pretty much the perfect hour of comedy. No shit. The Pee Wee Herman Show is one of the funniest things ever created on this blue planet. There are so many great quotable lines that we still use to this day. "Pen Pals from around the Woooorld!" "Mekka Lekka Hi Mekka Hiney Ho" "Shoe Mirrors!!" "Friends are in from Europe" "Cool, Caucasian" and perhaps our favorite, "Is that a big enough piece of cake, or what?!"

Holy CRAP!
IS that a big enough piece of cake, or what?!

And then there's the Jelly Donuts' hilarious tribute to Sly and the Family Stone.



Ooo Yaaaaaaa!

I swear when I'm old and demented, I won't know my own name, but I'll sure as hell remember every line of this crazy gem. I love it that much. Chances are I'll be smothered in my sleep at the home because of that annoying behavior.

But by far the very best part of today was walking in the door and hearing the voice of our faraway niece, Regi floating out from the kitchen via FaceTime.

There she was on our iPad, sitting at her kitchen table in her PJs talking to us from Japan. At that moment I wanted to kiss every single computer science nerd full-on the lips for making this wondrous thing possible. And maybe flash their virgin eyeballs a little boob, too. Okay, maybe a lot of boob.

(Note: I am totally going to get a bunch of hits this week from pervies because of that last line. I'm looking at you, Mr. Indonesia.)

We yakked about everything and nothing for almost two hours...for FREE! It was glorious! God damn, it was so great to see her face beaming forth from my new favorite techno toy. I owe the Apple geeks a debt of gratitude for foraging such a modern marvel as FaceTime from their big, big brains.

And a flash of boob.

"Right Now Is A Pretty Good Time"
or Old 97's summer fun run, Part Tres

Some days are better than others...

Okay, so after spending the night at the La Quiiieeeen-ta, (sorry, you just have to say it that way), I hopped on the subway and met my honorary little sis, Steph at Penn Station.

All. by. myself.

Dude, that is huge. You have no idea how huge that is. I'm totally directionally challenged. It's pathetic. I instinctually head the wrong way, yet miraculously always end up finding my destination. Weird. A psychic once told me I have an Indian spirit guide who leads me. Man, that cat must be exhausted. I wouldn't be surprised if he puts in for a transfer.

Anyhoo, have you ever experienced a day that was beginning-to-end perfect? A day where through no effort of your own, everything just falls into place with beautiful synchronicity. Last Thursday was that day.

Steph and I decided to spend this rare, comfortable, sunny summer day at Coney Island. On the way to the subway station, we stumbled upon a charming little Mexican restaurant where we ate chips, fresh salsa, burritos and kick-ass Margaritas for, get this... $25!

Holla!

For realz. We should have known the day was going to be special from that alone.

Welcome to Coney Island!

view from the schwings

I haven't been to Coney Island since I was 21 years old. Back then this legendary amusement park was populated by thugs, trannies and drug addicts. Now it's cleaned up (clientele wise) and family friendly. Even if it was still infested with unsavory characters, we would have had a great time. It's impossible not to have a good time with Steph. Hanging with her is effortless and always a blast. Love her!

pre brain freeze 

probably not the most effective use of condoms
just sayin'

Nice nips, Nancy

two classy chicks hanging at the park

We acted like retards in front of stupid signs, road a bunch of rides that had us in stitches (I'm looking at you, Tickler)

could this sign be any creepier?

and got a brain freeze from slurping mango Slushies on the boardwalk. I seriously almost tinkled while spinning the Teacups out of control when Steph screamed "I feel like I'm on drugs!" after she foolishly looked up from the center wheel. I haven't laughed that hard for a while.

Side note: Everytime we stepped off of a ride, Steph's shirt buttons would be undone. She was getting mechanically groped in a purely New Yawk way. WTF? "Welcome to Coney Island. Now off with dat dere button, sweethawrt." Ha Ha Ha!!

And then I got shit on...literally.

No shit! (pun intended) I was standing there, minding my own bidnez, taking a picture of the original Nathan's hot dog shop when I felt a nauseating, wet plop on my head. Steph confirmed my horror with a shriek followed by an insuppressible giggle.

Seagulls are dicks, yo.

post bird shit
we are not amused

Okay, it WAS funny as Hell once I wiped that crap out of my hair. But seriously, Seagulls are assholes, especially the brown ones. Naturally I shared my pub(l)ic humiliation with the world via Twitter because clearly I am a masochist. We laughed so much ribbing each other over the interwebs, I think the other subway riders thought we were demented. I know, right? We were sitting right next to each other for God's sake, and yet we were tweeting each other. Hello, 2011. But it was big fun.

Running late for the show, we ordered sushi delivery. Two rolls, soup and edamame for 20 bucks?!? Are you kidding me? First cheap and tasty Mexican with Margaritas, now this. You rock, Brooklyn! Maybe there is something to this nutty notion that getting pooped on is good luck...

Aaaaaaaaa....
hello there handsome

Sufficiently feed and watered, we made it to the venue in the middle of opener Robert Ellis' (AKA Jesus) act. We met up with some more friends and had some amazing conversations before Old 97's took the stage a little after 10pm. And boy, did they hit the ground running with a smoking version of the title track, The Grand Theatre and a super frenetic State of Texas, whipping the fans into an early frenzy.




The first night was terrific, but this night, WOW... I don't know if it was the larger crowd, the cooler, temperate weather or being better rested from not having to travel between cities in a cramped Sprinter, but whatever the reason, they were en fuego!! They all were fired up, having a GREAT time feeding off the positive vibe gushing from the masses and taking the time to goof with the audience.






Having fun with teeny tiny bottles of Jameson:



Rhett was all playful with the crowd, charming his adoring fans with a nod and a smile, Murry kept his end of the stage humming by sharing his bass with fans, Philip was joking with Rhett between songs, and Ken... Ken was super charged, owning his role as master shredder.

It's no secret how much I love these guys. I love their bottomless energy. I love their unmatched commitment to rock your face off live. I love that they look like they're having as much fun playing as we are being swept up in the riptide of their musical juggernaut. They never ever phone it in. But I think what I love most about these four wonderful fellas is how kind they are to their following.

Thursday was my friend and uber fan, George's birthday. They dedicated not one, but three songs to him, W. Texas Teardrops, the lovely Lashes (more for his wife, Maria than George),



and a through the roof version of If My Heart Was a Car.



George was grinning from ear to ear. Hell, he's probably STILL grinning. They went above and beyond to make his night an event he'll never forget.

By the time Ken took his final leap on the last note of Time Bomb, a sense of euphoria had set in. The kind of satisfaction that's so complete, it can sufficiently tide me over until the next time our paths cross. God, they rock my world. Walking back to the La Quiiieeeeeenta, reliving the events of the day, I couldn't stop smiling. I'm smiling now.

It really was a perfect day.

So let's review: two meals each for around $20 bucks, laughing to tears at Coney Island and an off-the-charts concert by my favorite musicians. Maybe there is something to this bird shit on the head thing being lucky...

Right now is a pretty good time.

Part Two of Old 97's Fest 2011
or nice to meet you, Brooklyn

Okay, so time has been racing past me in one gigantic blur lately. It's crazy. I could swear I was just in Brooklyn two days ago and yet in real time it's been over a week now. Crazy.

Anywho, my beloved Old 97's performed at Brooklyn's Bell House for two consecutive nights last week. I've never been to Brooklyn before, so I had no idea what to expect upon my arrival. Both the club and hotel are located in a more industrial looking neighborhood in what is known as the Gowanus section of swankier Park Slope.

I said "Go(w)anus" hee hee

The first night I met up with two of my favorite people, Marcy and Sarah for an exquisite dinner and drinks at Blue Ribbon before heading off to the show. Dude, the salmon was insanely good. Wow. Like seriously a taste sensation worth noting and eating again. I'm drooling just thinking about it.

We got to the venue with about 15 minutes to spare before the band took the stage. One of the things I enjoy about this band is the culture of community surrounding it. There's always a handful of delightful people I know at each club, and I always end up meeting a few more each time. I have met several truly special people whom I count as some of my closest friends now all because of our shared love of this band. And for that alone I shall be forever grateful to these musical men.

Alright, enough of the ICK factor. Moving on to the main event, dammit...

By 10pm, the crowd was ready to cut loose. Rhett and company didn't disappoint with a rocking 26 song setlist mixing old standards and soon-to-be-new favorites. Ken was pacing the stage like a lion, shredding his telecaster over the excitable crowd, Rhett was shaking sweat from his luscious mane, making all the girls hot with his hip swaying, Murry was thumping out the rhythm line while encouraging the fans in front to pluck the strings at the end of Train Wreck, and Philip was keeping it all together with a ferocious back beat. And us? We were dancing and singing our proverbial asses off.

Heaven!



From Volume 2, Manhattan (I'm Done) - for Geo



Rhett's lovely and lithe wife, Erica was in attendance which meant we were treated to an acoustic version of Erica the Beautiful in the encore break. I didn't record it last Wednesday, but here's a performance from 2007 via the wondrous world of YouTube:



One of the many high points of the evening came during the encore performance of Won't Be Home No More. They opened with this song the very first time I ever heard the band play live. It contains one of my favorite bridges.

I'm pulling off the road
I'm opening the door
I'm giving you the pavement
I'm telling you what for
You are no more than a thought
no more than a thought
and you're getting smaller in my rear view mirror
yeah you're getting smaller in my rear view mirror
yeah you're getting smaller...

Such fantastic imagery. His anger and disgust with this chick is deliciously palpable. I love this tune. As happens sometimes as a song evolves, Rhett changed up the lyric slightly. The original was "I'm giving you the Heisman", as in the Heisman trophy stance of one arm outstretched, shoving her out the car door. It has long been abandoned, but that evening he threw in the Heisman line!

Woot!!

The funny thing is it took Marcy and I a couple of seconds to register before we screamed like girlie-girls. We're such dorks. Kooky, lovable dorks, but dorks nonetheless. Ha Ha!

(Okay, I realize this means absolutely nothing to any of you, but it was really exciting to this uber fangirl. Please, no judging or I'll be forced to slap a ginormous red "J" on your chest and write you off as a grade A, number one jagoff.)

The evening ended full-throttle with a balls-to-the-wall performance of Time Bomb, including what has become a signature lead singer jump off the amp. One of these days I'm going to have a better camera with which to capture the impressive air Rhett gets.

Great friends, great food and the Heisman equals another great evening of music from my favorite foursome.  Hoarse and happy, it was an excellent first day in Brooklyn.

Killer Set List 7/13/11:

No Simple Machine
Dance Class

Niteclub

Buick City Complex

White Port

New Kid

Marquita/Bright Spark

No Baby I (inspiration for this blog's title)

Barrier Reef

Please Hold On

Question

Color of Lonely Heart

Manhattan (I'm Done)

Champaign, IL

Trainwreck

Big Brown Eyes

Smokers

Perfume

Doreen

Four Leaf Clover

--encore--

Erica the Beautiful

Come Around (I think...)

Valentine

Won't Be Home

Every Night

Time Bomb

Good Friends, Good Times and the Old 97's (Part One)
or feeding my unquenchable obsession

Okay, so this past week I had the ginormous pleasure (read indulgence) to witness not one, but three Old 97's concerts.

Holla!!

My favorite foursome were booked all week in the East Coast, including the fabled Asbury Park gem and storied Springsteen haunt, The Stone Pony. The July 10th vacation week at the Special K was available and I actually entertained the notion of taking it, but five shows in a row? Dude, that seemed crazy-excessive even for me. The Pony was tempting though, man. As it turns out it was so oppressively hot and humid there, I probably would have perished in a pool of my own precious bodily fluids.

So my week of musical merriment began at Baltimore's Ram's Head Live. My bud, Steph and her cousin, Dave picked me up at the airport and we headed directly to the venue in time to meet up with other familiar faces from past shows. Unlike the last time when we met up with the band prior to the show for web business and such, this time we were just fans, staking our claim in the crowd between Ken and Rhett, singing our throats raw and dancing our butts off with our fellow 97's flock.

Holy Crap it was a blast.

They launched into a high-energy, three-song set of No Simple Machine, Dance Class and perennial sing-along favorite, Niteclub to get the crowd rolling. The new stuff is so fantastic live. The sheer magnitude of force behind the combo Marquita/ Bright Spark will just rock your face off. Magnificent.



Couple that with Please Hold On, Trainwreck, Four Leaf Clover and Barrier Reef and you've got the recipe for a happy, hoppy, bellowing crowd. The masses sang their hearts out at Barrier Reef, Big Brown Eyes and Rhett's encore break acoustic Come Around. I never tire of hearing the entire room taking the reins of their songs. I can only imagine how fucking awesome it is for Rhett to hear 500+ voices echoing back his brilliant verses.



Did you catch Rhett's look of absolute delight as the venue became one unit on his final chorus?

Not only does Stoned win for the best non-rap use of the words dope and fly, but check out the dude's ball cap in front of me. It totally looks like a mustacheod man singing, right?



You can't see anything else other than that hat face now, can you. Sucka!

Right before White Port, Ken who's usually silent on stage, invited the audience to join him at a bar of their choosing.



When the dust settled and the screaming had stopped, Cat's Eye Pub in Fell's Point was the winner. So after having our Rock souls sated and being drenched in sweat, our own as well as Rhett's (I know, you'd think that'd be gross, but it's totally not), we ventured over to the bar. Lo and behold, Ken and Murry actually showed up! How cool are they, huh?

The pub seemed like an odd choice following the raucous evening of musical mayhem we'd just witnessed, what with it's quieter, old-man jazz trio perched on an elevated 4 x 5 stage, but the bar was the perfect place for chatting up a favorite musician.

Ken, who has a bad rap for being surly, was having a great time holding court with his adoring fans and enjoying the company of young lasses. Murry was fielding questions and accepting beers from his own crowd of ecstatic followers.

And then I nearly kissed the pavement.

That's right. Miss Grace almost fainted right there in front of a bona fide rock star. Yep. Not enough O's in smooth. The whole evening I had this nagging feeling I was forgetting something, you know, but what?

Tickets: check. Camera: check. Money: check. As my vision began to tunnel, and voices started to echo, it hit me.

FOOD, asshat.

Seems the notion of feeding my gullet had escaped me for the last 12 hours. Did you know Vodka tonics are not on the food pyramid? What?!?

So I stumbled out of the bar and did ye olde head-between-my-knees while leaning against the car, drinking water so thoughtfully provided by Stephanie. Murry, being the sweetheart he is, came out to make sure I wasn't expiring on the streets of Charm City. The three of us ended up sitting in the Steph's car with the air blasting, Murry in back.

So we're sitting there (me recovering slower from my humiliation than the fainting spell) and people start rapping on the car window to talk to Murry. Hands down the funniest lean-in was a bald-headed, heavily tattooed dude who, thinking we were burning a doobey or two stated, "why, this car doesn't smell at all like weed."  Hilarious!

We rejoined the party inside, hung out until after last call then headed to bed 24 hours after I'd started the day. All's well that ends well, especially if you don't reverse gears on your new summer shoes.

Rock and Roll, BABY!!

In Which Some Conversations Are More Heartbreaking Than Others...

I don't even know where to begin...

I am blessed with three amazing sisters who have graced our brood with three delightful brothers-in-law. Each of these men has brought their own colorful blade to our family pinwheel. They've all been in our clan for so long, I can barely remember a time when they weren't part of our lives.

It took my sister Toni three times to find a mate worthy of her joyful essence. Her first husband was a complete bastard. He dragged her to Alaska, knocked her around and held her at gunpoint. Through the kindness of coworkers as well as strangers, she was able to escape that mercifully brief nightmare.

Her second attempt at a lasting relationship wasn't physically abusive, but was neither nurturing nor loving. That nine-year run ended with one quick burst of violence, from which he fled, rarely to be heard from again.  #2 wasn't a bad man, but we suspect he was mentally ill. Knowing my sister wouldn't tolerate abuse, we believe he hit her knowing she would immediately kick him out, thus freeing him from any responsibility. He had a lot of faults and frailties that he couldn't necessarily help, but without him we wouldn't have our nephew, Will. So there's that anyway.

Any other woman would have turned bitter and angry, but my amazing sister never closed her heart to love. She was a little tarnished, but she never lost hope.

Then Art walked into her life.

And she shined brightly once again.

Not to sound cliche, but Art has a somewhat checkered past. That's not to say he was in jail--not that I know of anyway, but he wasn't always the most upstanding citizen. However, that was his past life before their paths crossed.

Timing is everything in life. Had they met ten years earlier, they never would have dated let alone married. He was too out there, too scary, too unsavory for my sister. No, they needed the span of years for him to temper and for her to loosen her black-and-white moral compass.

In Art my sister, Toni finally found a partner who respected, treasured and loved her unconditionally with all his heart. In Toni he found his joy, his center, his true North.

I tell you all this because Art is dying. His heart is not pumping blood with enough force to deliver oxygen throughout his body, his lungs don't function well and he's diabetic. He's on a litany of meds, but the only long-term fix is a heart transplant for which he is ineligible. There is no official time line, but in my gut it doesn't feel far away.
We had Sunday dinner at Toni's so she could keep an eye on Art, who is generally too weak to leave his bedroom. He's not bedridden, but he can't make it down the stairs without getting utterly exhausted, so he stays upstairs.

I went up to say hi and we chit-chatted a bit about nothing in particular. Then it got quiet. When he turned a serious gaze in my direction and asked if we could talk, I knew he was going to make me cry.

Choking back tears, Art (a non-believer if ever there was one) told me my sister is his Angel sent from God to save him from himself. She is the light that was missing from his life. Her joyful essence is precious to him. She gave him back his smile. His voice cracking, he told me his only regret is he won't get to spend more time with her.

It was so fucking heartfelt, it crushed me.

And then he made me promise to not let her drown in her sorrow when he's gone. He locked his laser blue eyes on mine and told me she's too full of joy and love not to have love in her life again.

Art's always been the pragmatic one, never afraid to look at the cold, hard truth of a matter. Dealing with his own impending death is no different, but seeing him in tears being as honest as he's ever been with me, tore out my heart.

Composing myself as much as humanly possible, I took my turn at truth telling. This illness is a wretched bastard, but it afforded me the opportunity to finally thank him for gently caring of my sister who always wears her heart on her sleeve, for bringing color back into her life, for loving her the way she always deserved and for making her so very, very happy.

I came home, sat in Geo's lap and just held on, crying, not wanting to think about the day we won't be together.

I didn't tell my sister about our conversation and I won't. She's going to have enough to cry about over the next six months. She finally found her match, and now she's going to lose him far too soon. My heart breaks for her, but at least she has known what it's like to love unconditionally, to be cherished, to be happy.

And that's a rare gift.