Hello everyone. This is Amy’s husband Shaun. Amy asked me to post here so that anyone checking would know what’s up with her. She is in a 28 day in-patient rehabilitation program for alcoholism. Basically she got to a point in her struggle that’s like standing in the ocean getting hit by a wave and then as soon as you pick yourself back up, another wave hits. She needed to take a time out and get professional help. The place is called Father Martin’s Ashley. It’s a wonderful and healing place. I spent the past weekend there participating in their family wellness program and it was profoundly helpful. Amy is doing great. She feels better and looks better than I have seen her in years. Amy comes home on July 7th. If you would like to write to her, you can send letters to:

Amy Fanning
c/o Father Martin’s Ashley
P.O. Box 240
Havre de Grace, MD 21078

She asked me to conclude this post with the following poem from W.S. Merwin:

Thanks 

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions.

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
looking up from tables we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

(post title by Johnny Nash, I Can See Clearly Now)

People, people.

So I broke my glasses, and went in for a “Hey, I broke my glasses” STOP BY at the local optometrist this morning. I haven’t had my eyes checked in a long time, but for years my prescription was unchanged, so it always seemed an unnecessary use of my (dwindling) time. This morning, though, when they asked how long it had been, I answered “Too long,” and they were able to get me right in.

I’ve noticed recently that my eyes actually feel heavy if I am tired, or if I have used them too much in a day…they feel a bit sand-baggy and as if I am not seeing as well. I don’t like wearing my contacts, because this seems to happen even more quickly, which is why I need to so immediately replace the broken glasses.

So during my exam, there were lots of “Hms” and “Huhs” and turns of the head and flips of the glass and shines of the lights, etc. Lift the lid, drop the lid, read the line. Lift the lid, drop the lid, read the line. What is going on? “How old are you?” Uhm…almost 40? Well, that’s never a good question, especially when they look surprised that you didn’t answer that you are well into your 70s.

End result of the exam is that, for lack of a better way to put it, I have fat eyelids! All this time I have been perseverating about my ass and my lids have been porking up and sagging down. I was so out of sorts when I came out of the appointment — feeling all woe-is-me and “when is the time going to come when all the physical damage I did to my body with all my addictions going to be over.” The answer to that is, of course, I don’t know, and I can only take this one day at a time. One puffy saggy day at a time.

Over the last ten years, after the 160-pound weight loss, the extra skin (everywhere!) over my eyelids has weighed down the lids enough that is has actually changed the shape of my eyes and made my astigmatism worse — two points in my right eye and four points in my left. And, the degree of droop is different on the two eyes, so it’s actually two separate operations (which can be done at once).

He asked if I had considered plastic surgery to remove excess skin after my weight loss (does anyone hear something? Sort of like the air being let out of a balloon?), and I said “YES, BUT NOT FROM MY EYELIDS.”

He mentioned Lasik, but said that it would be futile if the skin continues to sag and eventually cover the iris, therefore making any 20/20 vision sort of moot.

So now I am considering blepharoplasty (whee!), which, because I NEED it instead of WANT it, it is covered by insurance.

At least, if they remove too much tissue and I end up looking eternally surprised !!! we know where I have some extra to put back in.

Foreigner, Double Vision

There have been lots of folks checking in with me regarding my surgery. That link is one to a site that explains a procedure that I have wanted to get for a long time, one I promised myself that I would undergo if I maintained my 160-pound weight loss for more than ten years. In March of 2008, I had done that, and started researching doctors all over the country to find the most skilled and competent one. I think I found him, and even scheduled my surgery for May 14th (this was more than six weeks ago).

In the meantime, I realized that it was just too soon. While I made myself a promise, there is no hurry to get the surgery done. I really have to be in a great place emotionally and spiritually to go through something so major. I have to have all my ducks in a row regarding support for the kids, recuperation support for me, support for Shaun. I have all those things in spades — it will just take lots of coordination. And, my sobriety and the maintenance of my family’s every-day takes up all of my time and attention right now. That’s as it should be.

So that’s my big-ass news.

Shepherd is walking, and Ruby is still taking names. Somehow a jellybean made its way into the house the other day, and Ruby really wanted it. She said to her dad, “If you give me that jellybean, and I eat it, all of my dreams will come true inside of me.”

Oh that it were that simple, mydear. Mama’s about 1,000,029 jellybeans in!

Peter Murphy, Cuts You Up (or not, as the case may be)

I’m not even going to keep apologizing that I don’t write more often here. I don’t write more often here! Wish I did! Bless you!

Events of note? The political demonstration in my front yard was interesting.

I share a wall with Ben Bernanke, the Chief of the Federal Reserve. Might not have mentioned that, ever, except for that these couple hundred people already knew it, and then we were on the news. My mother called, exclaiming, “Wow, so that’s what it’s like to live in the big city,” having just watched the 11 o’clock report. So, there you have it. I’m fairly sure my little blog won’t garner it any more attention. You can probably read about what these folks wanted/need if you google around enough.

It was all very orderly and American actually. The buses arrived, they shouted and bullhorned and waved their signs, they gathered up their stuff and they left.

All that said, the event birthed another Ruby gem, when she asked “Who are all these bad people?” We explained that they weren’t bad people, they were just passionate about their message for “Mr. Ben,” and they wanted to communicate with him. Her very simple question?

“Why don’t they just call him on the phone? I was playing out there.”

Eagles, Life’s Been Good

Ruby was drawing at the table the other morning, waiting to leave for school. I was upstairs, running a bit behind with the little one. I heard, on my way down, her say to Shaun, “…and this is your penis.”

Scribble, scribble.

I didn’t want to leap over to the table to see it…but I certainly thought that was an interesting artistic choice.

They kept chatting and finishing up breakfast and Ruby finished her masterpiece. When my scanner is up and running, I will share the picture with you. It’s a keeper for sure, as well as the accompanying descriptive text.

When I was able to get hold of the drawing, Shaun handed it to me and said that I had missed more of the conversation. He pointed out the key parts of the picture (none of which are particularly identifiable), and said, “Ruby tells me my penis is also a boat.”

It has certainly taken us to some distant shores, let me tell you.

Styx, Come Sail Away

Dear Internets,

Look what happened when I was asleep (see masthead)!

On Easter, I woke up and I had kids.

What happened to those babies? Shepherd will be one year old this month, and I will be one hundred and four.

Would you like a story?

How about some squash?

Come by anytime!

Love, Amy

Fairport Convention, Who Knows Where The Time Goes?

Wake up, you.

I’m still awake. Awake and alive (Peter Gabriel, In Your Eyes)!

NOTE: I just learned from a great friend that she didn’t know I used a song lyric for the title of each post, and then linked to the artist/song at the end. Ouch. I’ve been doing it for a really long time. Sometimes, there’s even a neat little catch to it — a tie-in to what I talk about in the post, a special nudge/wink if you are paying attention. You might even win one million dollars. So, I hope you make note of it, Internets.

See the new masthead? I continue to love Jeff, and thank him for keeping up with Fannfare even when I don’t!

Speaking of which, since I tuned in last, National Blog Posting Month happens every month. I’m not sure I understand that, but I am letting it serve as inspiration to me to get back into this business of blogging. I enjoyed it…y’all seem to…why not?

The theme for April is letters. I love letters! The exercise of writing them. Delicious crisp papers. Smooth beautiful ink. I don’t write enough of ‘em. Whenever I get one it makes my day. I’ll try to spend April writing them (or about them) here.

How have you been?

Simon and Garfunkel, April, Come She Will

(C’mon! At least a comment or two about THAT one. Holla!)

It won’t go far towards letting you know how I am (doin’ okay, you?), but hopefully this will crack you up like it did me today (thanks, Wendy!)

Mary J. Blige, Just Fine

So I am clearly not posting every day. I’ve really been rocked down to the core recently, and while there is lots and lots to talk about — it’s exhausting. I so admire folks who get online and spew it out (most times quite eloquently as well), but I’ve learned that that’s not my deal really. Interesting, because in the past I couldn’t keep my mouth shut (both in person and over the ether) — but I guess I have never been talking about the right things, the important things.

I miss everybody! Doesn’t mean I won’t be back, but for instance, today, I didn’t move out of bed until 12:30pm and then it was only to take a shower and head to an arm chair. You can imagine the support it takes, from my husband mostly, to make this kind of wallowing possible with two children. It then feels profoundly selfish to say “I’m going to go spend a large amount of time on the computer.” Sigh. All are napping now, and I am waving…”He-ey.”

Come Thanksgiving, I will have lots to send upstairs in prayer. I am a lucky lady to recognize that, even when it makes me cry to think about trying to find the box with the Scotch tape in it.

I’ll post some pics soon — the kids are out-cute-ing each other every day.

Fergie, Big Girls Don’t Cry

An old man is telling his grandson about a fight that is going on inside himself. He says it is between two wolves.

One is evil: Anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

The other is good: Joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.

The grandson thinks about it for a minute and then asks his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?”

The old man simply replies, “The one I feed.”

Duran Duran, Hungry Like The Wolf