Dubious of duplicity.

I really loved this past week. It felt like a gift tied up with a big, obnoxious red bow. Like in the movies when the overly good-looking guy gets his wife/girlfriend a NEW CAR for Christmas or an anniversary. It’s always a [fill in the blank] luxury mobile and the bow is just so. And you (dear viewer) know it’s really all because he’s bangin’ it out with the nanny/office admin/coffee shop barista. What evs.

In exchange for this past week, I’ll take that ostentatious red bow and WEAR IT. ON MY HEAD. That’s how freakin good it was.

No emergency diarrhea stops. No crying in the car on the way to some event. Just wake up. Hubby makes the coffee. I smell it. End of story. (Or, in our case, we ended up being out of milk all week for some stupid reason, so he ran to Vic’s. Ha. Instant karma’s gonna getcha.)

We WORKED. Drove kids. Went to meetings. Answered emails. Attended parent-teacher conferences. Volunteered at the 4th grade mile run. Met Brian for lunch (and a marg) at Wahoo’s. Bought the hubby a new iPhone. Had a date night.

I swear to god (or buddha or allah), that it felt suspiciously like an EFFIN NORMAL WEEK.

We got our car serviced. Remembered to make appointments for the girls that were waaaayyy overdue. I was so giddy that I ended up thinking Thursday was Friday all week and then proceeded to completely forget a meeting on the real Friday. Absurd. Just when things are progressing along like the all-American family week, I up and lose my mind and memory. And check out.

That’s when I realized — with a whack of a baseball bat against the head — that all of this normal was making me dubious. WE don’t do normal any more. Where is that shit and WHERE DID I PUT THAT FUCKING FAN?

So I simply worked my ass off to savor it. Get it while the gettin’ was good. Rest of the world be damned. (Though I did send a rather sheepish email to said forgotten client/friend. Haven’t heard back either. Oops.)

By Friday, we were so far IN IT, that we high-tailed it to the high country to check out the fall foliage and the Tabernash Tavern eats. We took up the poor, unsuspecting cousin Blue’s on their generous offer of the house — yet again — and felt ourselves breathing more slowly as we rounded the curve past Fraser.

It was a magical weekend. Great dinner out upon arrival on Friday night, followed by a stellar bottle of wine under an equally star-filled sky. (Who knew that the milky way actually still existed?!?)

On Saturday, we lounged around to the tune of blueberry pancakes and lattes on the deck. Then packed a cooler and headed to Beacon’s Landing to rent a pontoon boat. The girls fished with worms on their hooks, the hubby and I sipped some Mothership Wit and we all watched the shoreline for the bald eagles nesting.

I forgot how much I adore being out on the water. It’s like life flows back into my veins. The problem is I never want to leave. I actually said to the hubby, “Maybe we should just buy a houseboat and travel after the effin cancer is behind us.” I stared out the window of the restaurant we went to for a late lunch and threatened to highjack the sailboat that was setting out. The hubby reminded me that we don’t know how to sail. Details.

It was a great day. GREAT. I love getting away for a few days with no Wi-Fi, no cell service, nothing but peace and solitude. (Though I do find a way to post to Facebook from the iPhone. I know. I’m like a crack addict with that thing. And I find it overly necessary to share those damned great moments we get — when we get them — with the world.)

The whole weekend I kept trying to push away certain thoughts though. I was outside, staring at the sunset over the Park Range. Listening to the sounds of the girls and hubby deep into bedtime prep. I was joyful. And then just as suddenly so scared. It’s almost like I was afraid of the joy. Like if I breathed too deeply I might explode on the spot and ruin the deck of the Blue’s retirement fund.

In spite of every single moment of joy. In spite of my raised glass tonight at dinner with the fam (home again on our back deck and thoroughly enjoying the gourmet spoils of the hubby’s wellness). In spite of that ole mindfulness and living so completely in the moments of good and great. Tuesday keeps lurking. Throwing a shadow on my best laid thoughts. (Get back mutha-fuckah, you don’t know me like that.)

My stomach turns at the thought of the poison drip. How the hubby wore gloves the whole boat ride and had to bolt to the boys’ room the moment we docked. How I still have to handle the refrigerated items even though we’re almost TWO WEEKS past chemo numero tres. How he now chooses indoors if the night air is too crisp. How I can’t help but ask how he is every five minutes (give or take). And how I sit on the deck at the mountain retreat — pure heaven — and wonder what I would do without him.

But today at lunch before driving home, the hubby told bean to finish her salad and she responded by holding up four little fingers and saying, “Four all over yer face kid.” We stifled laughs and tried to hold it together to no avail. She’d just quoted Eazy-E and it was effin funny. Moment by moment. That’s how we roll.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Feelin Good Again. Robert Earl Keen. (The hubby says this is his new well-week theme song.) I looked across the room and saw you standin' on the stair. And when I caught your eye I saw you break into a grin. It feels so good feelin' good again.