UNCRATE

I know what someone's getting as a "welcome home" gift :)



Ladies - do you have a guy that's hard to shop for? Check out UnCrate, it's a fabulous website with really great gift ideas for boys - some of them are funny (bacon flavored lip balm), some of them are a little out of reach (legit rocket booster pack) but most of them are AWESOME gift ideas.

I gifted MJ a set of iHome portable speakers for our trip to Belize - rated EXCELLENT.

I also purchased him two gifts for Christmas that he hasn't opened yet:

An iPhone case with a space in the back for your credit card.



A set of spouts and shaker tops that will fit universally on empty glass jars.



And while that sounds totally lame and nerdy, you OBVIOUSLY haven't seen the spice mixtures and marinades this boy makes and keeps at the house.

UPSIDE DOWN HOUSE

The Ball House is upside down. All that was up, is now down! I had handy boys come over last night and move the bedroom furniture and IV's room down to the first floor - Lindsay came over to help me arrange and decorate.

While MJ always complained about the Ball House, and while I certainly don't like the summer electric bills, it is absolutely earning it's salt right now. Wide open doorways and front room, walk-in shower on the first floor, perfect "big boy" bedroom in the back of the house for the punk.

My lists are endless - lists of questions for the dietician and physician, lists for Target and Home Depot, lists for a medical supply store I will venture into for the first time - but certainly not the last. Lists for work. Lists for Galveston Disaster Recovery Housing Grants.

And then I stumbled across a list I hadn't seen in awhile, between my files and folders.

My Life 100 list.

And amist my mindless visions of grandeur, my "Number 18 - Watch a roller derby match" and "Number 49 - Hold an oversized check in a presentation" lies one very important dream:

It lies before "Number 12 - Christen a shrimp boat" and after "Number 10 - Grow an herb garden" - Number 11, with a bullet: "Marry 'the one'"

I've thought a lot about how this "accident," this crazy turn of events, has tied MJ and I together so indefinitely. And while I would give the trials and suffering and pain back in a second, I wouldn't give back the perspective it's given us, not for one second. The appreciation for someone's heart, for their soul, their spirit and who they really are - because when you're holding their hand in ICU, hooked up to a bazillion machines and tubes, sometimes that's all you've got. And there are times when that feels like it's too much, like I don't even deserve that much of someone.

There are only a few people who ask me the question that everyone is thinking:

Are you ready to do this forever?

And you know what?

I was ready to do this forever a long time ago - before Christus Santa Rosa and before kissing that morning on November 15th when we parted ways for our separate running corrals.

I am ready.

AMERICAN HONEY

MJ IS COMING HOME.

What does this mean?

It means turning the Ball house (literally) upside down.

Furniture and construction, ramps and paint and brick paths.

Hanging drapes that needed to be hung long ago.

It means new pillowcases from Pottery Barn clearance.

It means blood pressure cuffs and grab bars in my bathroom.

It means "big boy room" for IV.

Dig down deep. What else does it mean?

It means togetherness.

It means loves and struggle and family all under one roof.

Cooking and dinner together again.

Bathtime and splashy together again.

And as I lay down in our bed last night, it hit me:

Since November 15th, 2009, I thought I would lie in our bed alone for the rest of my life (save for an occasional visit from the punk kid).

After the accident, I couldn't bring myself to wash my sheets for nearly a month, just because MJ had slept in them. His head had been on that pillow, for what I imagined would be the last time.

But soon, there will be two again.

Wow.

FAT, FAT, FAT

I looooooooooooooove Fat Tuesday - according to Tiff (and I agree) it's the best parade, my most favorite parade, so much fun and everyone gives one last hungover PUSH to end Mardi Gras!

While it's sort of been the diet coke of Mardi Gras for us this year, we still managed to party at the Momus Ball with my ladies, take in the Crystal Beach Krewe of the Lighthouse Parade, and IV and I brought tons of beads and masks to the kiddos at school this morning.

Now, MJ has ALWAYS made fun of the fact that I grew up in Port Bolivar and rode the ferry to school every day. The term "PBD" might have been thrown around and I won't even explain, you can probably use your imagination on that one.

But I have some excellent memories of the Crystal Beach parade and camping out in my parents driveway, BBQ-ing and bringing friends home from college, drinking and laughing and partying, always promising we were going to make the big parade in Galveston and then all stuffing ourselves with pizza and passing out as soon as the Lighthouse parade was finished.

This year was a little different, being a non-alocholic event for me because I had the pleasure of introducing IV to his FIRST MARDI GRAS PARADE!

The start of a lifetime of Krewe of Munchins parades, Barkus and Meow parades, maybe Momus parade someday when MJ and I trust him to not be pounding beers with Hudson and Davis behind someone's carriage house on 25th street.

The Grand Marshall came by and then the parade began - IV was completely DROWNED in beads, they covered every square inch of him and we danced and boogied in the street while the more than 60 floats, fire trucks and cars passed us by, chucking goodies and favors our way. The Shriners were there, of course, on their little mopeds and they did a choreographed routine in front of us in their funny fez'es. Someone threw IV a stuffed animal flower and it instantly became his sceptor in the parade, pointing it in the air and swaying with the beat of the music.

He passed out the second we loaded up in the car to head home. Whew.

So as we wind down tonight with the Fat Tuesday parade, I hope he enjoys this moment and revels in the excitement - because it's only going to get better and better.

Until Treasure Ball.

Then we're all in for spagetti dinners and a whole lot of Jo Mize.

1,2,3...

I am ready for my family to be under ONE DAMN ROOF.

Thank you for listening.

THE PUNK

The punk kid now knows many, many words. They include:

Agua (for water)
Outside
Dog
Whoa
Uh-oh
MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA
DADADADADADADADA
Nine (and you may not know this, but every letter in the alphabet and number is "nine!" - amazing!)
Ball
Bubbles
Ernie
ELMO (which sounds more like Mel-Mo)
More
Mine

and everyone's FAVORITE:

NO!

Where did NO! come from? Who are you, NO? Because, without fail, every question I ask is answered the same way:

"IV, are you ready to go to the store?"

"NO!"

"IV, let's take a bath!"

"NO!"

"IV, would you like a banana?"

"NO!"

Seriously. Seriously? Because you know what I would trade "NO!" for? I would trade "NO!" for "PLEASE" ANY DAMN DAY NOW.

Please?

NO?

I didn't think so.

WILL YOU BE MINE

I watched an episode of "Millionaire Matchmaker" the other night and I (heart) Patti Stanger! During this episode (while pointing to her enormous heart-shaped diamond ring) she exclaims "I love LOVE!"...and I may or may not have jumped around and squealed and said "ME TOO PATTI! ME TOO!"

DORK.

I am a total romantic dork - I have these ridiculous visions in my head, I know every line in "Casablanca" and I cannot WAIT for this Valentines Day with MJ, because I have a few tricks up my sleeve!

What can you get a guy who has everything - including a brain injury (haha, I laugh with MJ about it too)?

Here's what's on the menu:

MJ and I like doing projects together.

We built a nightstand together, everything from designing it, picking out the paint colors, sanding it to make it look antiqued.

We have this book of the world's most famous architectural structures and you use an exacto knife to make these intricate little cuts and slices and then the page pops up and it's a replica of that structure. We had finished the London Eye right before MJ's accident.

We decided to learn Spanish vocabulary by each writing 3 words a day on index cards and quizzing each other at night before bed.

I am realizing how dorky we are as I write this.

So I wanted to bring some projects that he and I could do together. And in no particular order, here are my stellar, romantic Valentine's Day gifts for MJ:

1. A photo puzzle - I have taken a picture of IV and then a picture of me and MJ and made them into large 5 piece puzzles for him to put together. I discussed with his Occupational Therapist and she feels like it would be a good challenge for him, with the photo as a reward at the end!

2. Painting - I have a canvas and some non-toxic paint and we are going to paint something, a picture. I don't know what, but I assure you it will hang in our house for the rest of our lives. IV is going to paint one too.

3. Beans - now this might sound ridiculous to you, but MJ makes the best spanish beans EVER and I have his recipe. As of passing the swallow test yesterday, the BOY CAN EAT! So I thought some food that he liked, something familiar to him, would be a hit...plus, he can critique how I made them, compared to his totally superior method, I'm sure.

So there you go, three gifts from Liz to MJ - plus I'm bringing IV up tonight so they can share some orange-lime sherbert and play ball.

What, might you ask, is MJ getting me? Wellllll...

My boy signed his name to a card for me, a carefully chosen card:



And I had a surprise on my desk yesterday when I got back from TIRR:



The card reads "To Liz, will be delivered personally next year, promise. Love, Mike"

Happy Valentines Day everybody! MWWWWAAAHHHH!

TIPPING POINT

I know my limits well - why? Because I may have pushed them a time or two.

Decisions for MJ lie in the hands of others today and tomorrow. I have to do my very best and then let it go - send it on its way, and let others decide the fate.

On my early morning drive from Houston yesterday, I looked up - a tear across the dark sky. Like God had taken his fingernail and ripped a horizontal shear through the clouds.

Songs, smoking, coffee, changing lanes, changing stations.

I looked up again - a searing red and orange sky had suddenly appeared to the east, the first glimpse of the sun burning it's way through the horizon.

"Hello" I said to the sun.

And continued to drive.

Gum, perfume, brush hair (yes, I do these things while driving), check phone (don't tell GPD) and change CDs.

I looked up again - the sky was bursting and bright and full of colors, glorious colors that we haven't seen in oh-so-long.

This is my life. This is our life. It is changing on us every day, suddenly, when we're not looking. Suddenly.

I can distinctly remember our Neurologist in San Antonio telling us that MJ would never progress any further than he was there, lying in ICU.

Nonresponsive.

No reaction to pain stimuli.

No reaction to us calling his name.

A "persistent vegetative state" were the ridiculously cruel words that were used.

Nothing more than that.

And last night when I left TIRR, I kissed him and he kissed me. He was lying in bed watching Seinfeld. I walked to the door and stood in the door way and called out to him:

"Hey, Michael"

and he looked over at me. I pointed and winked at him and said "I love you" and he said "I love you" in his mumbled, jumbled voice.

And that VERY SECOND I wanted to call that Neurologist at home, on his HOME PHONE and tell him how very, very wrong he was.

I think perhaps MJ will be able to tell him himself one day, one day soon.

GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS

These girls, where do I even start? These ladies are my rocks, my stability, my laughter and my dog sitters. They talk me down from the ledge, they take me to dinner and they call me at the most appropriate times.

And we had a BALL, a Momus BALL, on Saturday night:



Here's to...

BFFs - Bow Fluffer Friends. 'Cause if it's flat, it just looks cheap.

Open bar champagne, all night long.

...which leads to Liz on stage, leading the "Electric Slide" and grabbing the nearest mic. Geez, what is it with me and microphones?

Rollin'...rollin'...rollin' on the river.

Photo booths and Charlie's Angels poses.

Chandliers in tents. Of course.

Cleanin' up our boys, a week of tuxes.

.....

MJ has now avoided wearing a tux to not one, but THREE events and I explained to him in no uncertain terms, that we would be at next year's Momus Ball.

Because I have a feeling we're going to be blessed with girls.

And girls in Galveston have to be presented. Simple as that.

There is nothing like cheers-ing to "Happy Mardi Gras"!

THE JOKES, THEY NEVER END

After approximately 2.5 hours of sleep, I rolled my hungover, Motrin filled Mardi Gras booty to Jimbo and Jenny's, sunglasses on to find....

Garage door up.

Machines grinding.

Jimbo and his friend, MAKING SAUSAGE.

Two men on Montrose, making sausage.

Does anyone ELSE FIND THIS AMUSING?!?!

I dug through the rover for my camera, I felt obligated to chronicle:

The scene, at least Solange doesn't live next to them anymore - this might have made TMZ:



Nice, er, meat.



Jimbo, ready to take all the sausage jokes by the by...because he is a FOODIE, and FOODIES ARE GEEKS OF THE DINNER TABLE:



The cast of characters: sage, jalapenos, fennel, garlic



What is that? Tungsten?!?



And while it might seem RED FLAG dangerous to eat anything produced by this debacle, Jimbo cooked a piece of habanero fennel sausage for us later that night and it was nothing short of fantastic...sweet fennel, spicy lingering heat from the habanero...delicious!

Jenny responds to my email with the pictures:

"Luckily we weren’t there when the casing was going down. That could have been bad. Very. Bad.

MOMUS 2027

IV and I went to the Casa de Buergler the other night for pizza and playtime with our girl, Elle. Elle is a little bit younger than IV but BOY HOWDY did they get their playtime on.

Elle has MUCHO ELMO so IV was impressed, of course, and only occasionally grabbed toys out of Elle's hands.

We're working on the concept of "sharing" - thanks for helping us, Elle!

Francie and I were dishing about Momus and Mardi Gras the next day and the fact that Elle will be presented in about, oh, 17 years and that maybe IV will be her date!

Isn't it fun to think that all these kiddos are going to be growing up together? Playing and - gulp - dating and getting into trouble, all together?

Here's to Daddy Buergler and keeping these kids out of Elle's play tent:

MAMBO

Side note: I did promise myself that I would attend a Mardi Gras Ball this year, because I do love it so and I missed Holiday Ball and therefore haven't worn a gown in over 8 months.



Galveston standards, they do exist.

SO....tomorrow, Erin P. is going to cut, color and fix my hair, I am putting on makeup and strappy heels and a FABULOUS gown courtesy of HH and third-wheeling it with the Sullivans and Johnny.

Which is sort of ironic, because the first year I moved back to Galveston, I totally crashed Momus Ball with the Sullivans.

"Who's going to stop you if you're wearing a formal gown?" Kelley demanded.

And that may be my motto for the month of February.

WARWICK AVENUE

Is anyone tired of me writing about making out with MJ?!?!

OK, OK. I get it. I mean, my parents read this. Sorry Dad!

I spent the day with MJ yesterday and while I have neither the time nor the energy to write about all the crazy decisions and thoughts swirling around in my head, I will say this: I am impressed. MJ impresses me and shows me that...

1. He is there. ALL THERE.

You know, everyone had that little creeping thought: what does MJ's mental status look like? Does he know who he is? Does he know who we are? What does he know? And MJ has shown us that he totally gets it. He can't control his emotions or his body...his movement is very typical of someone who suffers from a brain injury. But he hears and he understands what is going on.

For crying out loud, I caught him checking me out when I was leaned over adjusting the tv in the family room this week - and when I busted him, he cracked up laughing.

Nice.

2. There is a path ahead.

If we were looking at this situation, this point, for the rest of our lives, my decisions would be much harder to make. But MJ shows me that every day, he learns. He masters. He controls. He improves and big things happen.

Because first there was ICU and codes at 3 AM. Trachs and PEGs and PIC lines.

And then there was Galveston. Awareness. Smiling. Movement. Sitters.

And now there is TIRR. No tubes. Sitting up. Laughing and participating. Missing me. Kissing me. Putting his arms around me and pulling me in close.

The path - it lies ahead for me and for him, shiny and bright. It may be long, but wow, is it beautiful.

Many of you are (rightfully) worried about me. All I can say is that I am aware of the pitfalls. I am aware that my hair looks like ass, which is why I'm spending half the day with Erin tomorrow.

Isn't awareness one of the steps? Oh wait, that's acceptance...or admitting I have a problem. Whatever, 12 steps.

I texted my dad this morning about the weekend and ended it with...

Me: "Daddy, I need Botox"

Dad: "Bullshit. U look good."

Me: It's all fixable, isn't it?"

It's all fixable. Nothing that a little hair color, injections and therapy won't cure, right?

SYRUP & HONEY

I went on a music spree this morning and so far I highly recommend:


"Lisztomania" - Phoenix
Watch this incredible homemade music video and fall in love with open air buses and live music in crowds.

Twirl someone.

Try to twirl them in front of the Eifel Tower, just for effect.

"Honey In The Sun" - Camera Obscura
DEAR GOD WHY CAN'T IT BE SUMMER ALREADY?

Because all I need are shorts, flip flops, hot summer heat and PDA.

"Delayed Devotion" - Duffy
Go to your kitchen. Pull out mixing bowls. Dance around to this song and sing into a whisk and or spatula.

Point at the dog and hit another octave.

He'll appreciate your soulfulness.

"Hometown Glory" - Adele
Chills, chills, chills. Another glass of wine, please.

MERCY

Some people ask me how I am doing - with this, all of this.

I am beating a constant path between home, day care, work, TIRR, temporary homes (thanks Tiff Tiff and J&J) and back. I don't even think about it - I just hop in and drive, from here to there, constantly.

I am essentially living out of an oversized bag and off of diet cokes and red wine.

I have submitted to carrying a toddler arsenal in my vehicle because I know better than to think that I have time to get items from home for IV. It's better than Girl Scouts - it's called OCD!

How do I do it?

Every day MJ gives me a gift.

Sometimes they are seemingly small - like a smile or restfulness.

Sometimes they are too huge for emotions - like kissing me back, like a REAL kiss, the way we used to kiss and it amazes me how it immediately sends my heart from zero to 5,567,364 miles an hour, pounding and electric and completely absorbed into him.

Many things have changed and will continue to change, but the rawness and the melding of our hearts is something that has remained the same. It's so utterly beautiful that sometimes I think it can't really be happening.

But it is. And that's how I do it.

MAKEOUT CENTRAL

MJ and I have much in common - one of the first things I noticed is that we both listen to music at every waking second.

In the shower, in the kitchen, in the car, at work.

We have iPod docking stations in almost every part of the house. The first night he cooked for me, he had a carefully selected "Kings-of-Leon-Get-In-Your-Pants-Mix" - which worked out quite well for everyone involved.

SORRY! Did I say that out loud?

I heard this song today and boy, does it ever make me want to buy purple tights and not shave MJ for a few days, just so I can makeout with him looking like a cave man.

French Navy - Camera Obscura
*what is my obsession with Paris lately?

PROBLEM?

I'm not sure what I could have written that would have prompted this Google ad:

Galveston, TX Drug Rehab
A Unique, Affordable Alternative To Typical Drug Treatment. Call Today!

Note: keep Klonapin references to a minimum.

ODE

MJ thinks Galveston is ghetto.

And now thanks to Abbey, I have a response:

"IT'S NOT GHETTO. WE CALL IT CHARMING."

While MJ is unable to argue with me about the shortcomings of my Island, I want to take this opportuntity to brag about it.

Wherever I go, I am surrounded by friends.

When I catch a pre-dinner drink with Onion and Clay, I run into Buerglers - and I get to walk around with IV's girlfriend, Elle, while her mommy and daddy get to eat dinner with both hands.

And B and I discuss how when Elle and IV go to prom together, Daddy Buergler will probably be wearing his velour Puma tracksuit.

When we go to dinner at Saltwater, the managers send us three complimentary desserts. Because 4 girls = 3 desserts.

When I go to 21, Tom knows I drink goose and tonic with extra lime. Even though it's been a long time since I've been to 21.

And when we go to Yaga's, Mike D. calls us out and tells us we're TOO OLD to be at his establishment. To which I WOULD take offense, had I not actually spent a lot of time there when I was in HIGH SCHOOL.

14 YEARS AGO.

So the jab, it's a little appropriate.

Or a lot.

When I need help, it's only a phone call or a text away.

I am never alone in my town.

And I get to watch the sun burn over the water every single day.

I remember this past summer, I was meeting up with MJ at his parents house after a hair appointment. As I pulled up, he and B met me in the driveway.

Window rolls down.

"GET IN."

We settled at Float Bar on the Seawall, and MJ launches into his famous "You Know What Your Problem Is?" speech to me and B.

I can remember B telling MJ that he was crazy to NOT want to live in Galveston. How could you not want to wake up every day to this place and to enjoy all that it had to offer? And that given the opportunity to live here and work here, B would take it in a second.

Give it 6 months.

Funny how life works, isn't it?

Happy birthday, B.

I think you and I got our wishes of us all being together on the Rock.

And I have nothing but good feelings about how it's all going to work out.

ABOUT MJ

THE GOOD:

1. My stove is consistently much cleaner.
2. I don't have t-shirts hanging to dry over my railing.
3. My leftovers are not in constant danger.
4. My drinking habits have abandoned beer and reverted to wine. Gap size 2 thanks you.

THE BAD:

1. King-sized beds are too large for one.
2. Cooking for one and a halfer is no fun. AT ALL.
3. Snuggling up with IV is better as a family.
4. F YOU GROCERIES! I HATE CARRYING YOU IN ALONE.

THE UGLY:

1. No waxing for two months. Impending swimsuit season. Yikes.