The Number of the Day

The number of the day, friends, is six.

Six, as in the number of continents Jane's story has reached. I just got a card from Brazil today. Brazil! South America represent!

Which means Jane has made it to every continent except Antarctica. How cool is that? I, shamefully, have only made it to two, and that includes North America.

And Washington, D.C., came in today. I think cards came in from the entire D.C. area, but not the capitol itself. Excellent.

I'll never make it to every single separate place a card came from, but wouldn't it be awesome to go to every country and every state or province? So that means I have five states, four provinces and, um, fourteen countries to go. I think. I'm sure about the US and Canada, but I am having the damnedest time keeping track of the other countries. Even when I look at the map. I have lost the ability to count on my fingers. Fifteen. It's fifteen. I'm not counting again; I'll just get another number.

Anyway, friends, THIS is exactly why the internet is so totally awesome. If anyone ever slags on it in my earshot, all I have to do is show them Jane's map. Internet for the win.

FIFTY, Yo!

Peeps, I just got the mail this very minute and had to come right back inside and share the news. In our mailbox were two, count 'em, two cards from SOUTH DAKOTA.

Jane was there, with you, in all fifty states. She was there, she was there, she was there! 

Thank you, friends. These cards, each and every one, mean more to me than I can express. Thank you all.

How the Time Does Fly

Tonight at dinner, the three of us were just sitting around talking, Sarah being entertaining and weird, and Tom and I marveling at the weirdness and the alchemical ability of ketchup to turned spurned food into the Most! Delicious! Thing! Ever! to the four year old palate.

So, Sarah's gabbing away, and I notice her eyes aren't as blue as they used to be. In fact, on leaning in closely, I decide they're looking pretty grey. Making me super jealous; I've wanted grey eyes since I was a kid and read about a character in a book (I think it must have been one of Lloyd Alexander's books) described as having them. And like a shot to the gut, all I could think about were Jane's brown eyes. Her funny, wise, warm brown eyes so much like my dad's. And I missed her horribly.

I looked around our table, with its three empty seats. She should have been there. She'd be nine months old tomorrow. Her adjusted age would have been six months. She would have been trying out solid foods. She should have been strapped into Sarah's old high chair, sitting at the table with us at dinner, laughing at Sarah's funny faces and smearing pureed sweet potatoes all over everything except her mouth. And it would have been awesome and normal and a pain in the ass and just perfect.

Goddamn it.

In Case You Were Wondering

The fiftieth state, for the curious among you, is South Dakota. I have nothing against South Dakota. It's a lovely state. I've been there! Badlands National Park -- gorgeous! I missed the Corn Palace and Mount Rushmore, though.


So, I got a call from the hospital today. I'll tell you all more about it another time, but the call came while I was in the middle of painting what would have been Jane's room. Which hadn't bothered me in the least, until after the call. The amazing group of children's writers at Tom's college had put together a collection of their books to donate in Jane's memory, and each had a beautiful bookplate based on a painting one of the authors had made for Jane. Anyway, there's a committee at the hospital putting together a remembrance service this spring (oh. It looks like I'm telling you about the call now, after all), and they were hoping to use part of the image from the bookplate for the invitation. Lovely, right? I was completely touched, and of course gave permission, and of course started to cry. I was just so surprised. I mean, I can meet up with Awesome Nurse Kristy or Awesome Nurse Angela, and talk about all of this stuff and not get upset. But one unexpected phone call and I'm undone.


I was glad about it, to be honest. It's been a while since I cried. It was good. Unfortunately the cleaning lady was here, so I cranked the cheesy tunes where I was painting, and wept quietly and worked until I wasn't weeping anymore. Most of the time I'm okay, not great, but sort of dealing the way you do when you have a low-grade fever. You just kind of plow through. 


It's funny, I'm finding that I think about Jane most frequently in the car. That's when I'm turning over how things played out, wondering whether any decisions could have been made differently, if the outcome could have been different. Which they couldn't. I know.


Oh, and the room? Tragic color choice. It looks like a Miami Beach cabana in there. Sarah, of course, now wants it for her own room, so yay on not wasting a gallon of fancy-schmancy no VOC paint. But back to the paint store tomorrow. Because we have houseguests coming and nowhere to put them if I don't get this done. Sarah and her friend's birthday party is the weekend, and I'm not ready AT ALL, so clearly now is the time to take on an unnecessary painting project. Go, me.

49

Friends, I'm delighted to tell you that Jane was in West Virginia! That's right, as of noon today, Jane's story had reached 49 states. How 'bout that?


An aside to Mrs. West Virginia: You don't perhaps have family here in my town, do you? Because your last name is the same as the family who helped me out by taking my freezer stash. That's an extremely cool coincidence if you're not related. Thank you, regardless of the connection, for letting me know Jane was there, too.

One Word

MALAYSIA.


Okay, more than one word. Malaysia! MA. LAY. SIA. Hello, Malaysia!


I'm staggered. Malaysia. I'm just going to walk around the house saying "Malaysia" to myself for awhile. Carry on, everyone. 

2006

You guys. Exactly four years ago, DH was driving approximately 100 miles an hour down a darkened Vermont highway, hyperventilating and asking repeatedly "Are you okay? Are you okay???". Because I was finally in labor, 36 hours before a scheduled induction. FOUR YEARS. Dudes, that's beyond wild.