Germane to St. Germaine

The last few days have lead us headlong into battle. One we just happened upon around the time surgery was scheduled for July 7th. All of sudden we are fighting gallantly between a to-do list and a living list. Yard work vs. going swimming. Errands vs. a get-away. Dinner on time vs. jumping on the trampoline with no pants on. It’s funny what strangeness the impending date of a major surgery brings. Suddenly our summer plans evaporated into smoke and we’re faced with weeks of we-don’t-yet-know-what. And we’re usually the couple that’s all for the living. Screw that other stuff. But when you know that you will be down for the count, it makes it feel like time is ticking away on some odd level. Suddenly the trivial feels do-or-die. All that procrastination of many, many years is starting to creep up on us. Damn, we should've started that yard project in early spring. And crap like that. Even though we’ve said it every year for more than we can really count at this point.

We are so not the morbid type either. (Though I do have to admit to going all goth in my 10-year high school reunion booklet by being quoted as my top high school memory being people dying. Yea. That.)

We thrive on spontaneity and F-U-N. So A LOT of stuff just never really gets done. And one thing an experience like this does to you is make you realize that most of that shit really doesn’t matter anyway. So we’ve tried to strike a balance. Get some main things done while still lingering over a latte and reading the whole paper cover-to-cover. We even slow-cooked a Boston butt and ribs today for shits-and-grins (and yums).

We also opted to hit the hot springs and take the long way home from Winter Park so the summer of fun in shortened version could still go on.

I can’t say it all hasn’t been playing with our heads a little. Though the fact that the hubby has finally found pain relief in the form of Ibuprofen makes it all more endurable.

We keep talking about whether we made the right decision scheduling it so far out. But then we realized that we wouldn’t be sitting on the deck of a mountain house sipping Cloudy Bay if we hadn’t given ourselves some time. And you really just can’t live without that particular moment once you’ve had it.

It’s also given me an excuse to buy more bottles of celebratory wine than I can count. Because, really, every bottle becomes a reason to splurge a bit when you’re facing this unknown scariness. And I just have to support the hubby in his final few days of solid food, don’t I?

So we unpacked, cleaned up, shared our about-to-be-rotten raw milk with the Cronins. Along with an evening and meal. Then spent today getting ready for the hubby’s parents arrival and a food-filled 4th celebration with them at home. The girls were more than thrilled to have them here and I was really thankful to have Mimi here to chop the veggies and cut the corn off the cob for my raw corn and radish salad. (Yes. Please. Shut. Up. I most certainly can cook when pressed.) The bean and I had spent the afternoon making salted fudge brownies and she was oh-so-proud.

So we were ready to roll once airport pick up was complete. Something about them being here made it all seem more final. More real. My mom almost cried with relief knowing they were here. I almost cried because I want to yell HALT! and make it all stop.

But once that effer is ejected into the compost bin (assuming Lutheran Medical is green), I know we’ll all be sighing such big sighs of relief that the CO2 level will increase perceptibly. Hopefully composting the 6-inches of yucky colon will off-set it.

And yet again — as we all sat outside in the crisp Boulder evening air, sipping rosé on our patio. Girls happily ensconced on Pop-pop’s lap. I thought, “Well.” And, well, that’s just it. We’ll live it up the next couple of days and hold the hubby’s hair as he starts his third colon cleanse in so many weeks. And sit there with sweaty arm pits (okay, that’s just me) while we wait the two or three hours for the surgery to be complete. Then another two or three days while we wait for pathology. And it’s back to waiting after days and days of just seizing the moments. Hurry up. Then wait. And ain’t life grand.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Ain’t Life Grand. WSP. Driving to the grocery store.
Pull my money out. Passing by the liquor store. Throw my money down.