First, a heartfelt thanks to each and everyone of you who has either totally not mentioned the Thing That Shall Not Be Named to me, or who has contacted me with a recommendation to call this travel agent or that person who just had a destination wedding. Am grateful. Very, very grateful.
Maybe we don't call it a "wedding" anymore? Maybe we call it a super-fun party. Yes, Super-Fun Party. That takes a bit of the edge off.
Sunday night, I hugged J tightly and whispered in his ear, "Babe, do you think we could elope?"
"Sure," he replied.
"No, no. Really. Would you elope?" I pressed.
He thinks for a moment. "No. I couldn't do it. I'd want my parents and friends there."
Humph. I love you all, but, um, I probably could. No worries. Super-Fun Party is on.
Last week I asked J to print out a post I had written some time ago. I thought that I may have stumbled onto magazine feature gold with it. (I have since changed my mind. Writers.) Within the context of that same email, I mentioned that I'd like to start printing out this blog, so that we could save it. In my own mind, I reasoned that printing this text would allow me to remember my twenties vividly. HomeValley Jr. could then also experience my twenties vividly, and marvel at Mama's clever positioning of the "f" word in most entries.
J. I bounced out of my office to greet him when he came home from work on Friday, and plopped down on the couch.
And noticed a crisp new binder of prose on the coffee table, entitled, "Mullets, M. Gellman, and Mergatroid, Oh My!" Subtitled: "Queens is the New Manhattan: The Sophisticated Diary of a Young Woman in Her Twenties."
Wait! He included the "reviewers" quotes on the cover, like:
"Crude yet classy; raunchy yet adorable..." - J-Money, The Chronicle
"Definitely the next big thing with a clever writing style that challenges anyone not to laugh!" - J, Author of Pick the Next Big Thing
"It's impossible not to love this girl!" - Larry, Future Husband
It was fucking hilarious and beautiful and I laughed uproariously through my tears.