looking for mrs. goodbar

not such a great start to the day.

it's saturday morning, and i'm expecting jane to sleep in. the sun is streaming into our bedroom, it's a gorgeous fall day, the kids are slumbering giants, and all is quiet. in the best of times, jane needs here sleep on the weekends - i'm usually up puttering, making crepes or muffins, then exercising, reading the sunday times (delivered on saturday), chillaxing as the kids say.

today i sleep until 7:30 - extremely late for me - and when i turn over, jane is up, on the computer, in bed beside me. she is furtively researching, scrolling, clicking, looking sternly at the screen. i'm afraid to ask what she's looking at, or what she's looking for. "what does it say", i query. "what did you find", i persist. "nothing", she answers blankly. hmmm. physician heal thyself may not be the best way to go here.

we make coffee and sip it out of our big, french 'bowls' and leaf through the paper. jane really is in disbelief. i am not. i suppose, being an eternal optimist and the one who is always full of hope (something great ALWAYS lies around the corner), it is odd that i concurrently am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop (it has! ouch!).

exercise follows - we need to be 'strong' - then the kids are up. andi does a school packet on the floor beside me while i ride the stationary bike and watch paula dean on the food network. jane is still doing research in bed. when we regroup in the kitchen, andi and marlee make delicious cinnamon scones under my direction - they make an ungodly mess and i have infinite (uncharacteristic) patience. slow and steady.

the kids eat, we hang out, lounge about, and even jared is up. jane's decided to clean up her closet - a mess - although not in a 'i have cancer and need to take control of my life since i have no control over my body' sort of way, just something she's been meaning to get to. we have an afternoon bar mitzvah to attend this evening, local on long island, as well as a 'sex party' (not quite sure about the details) to celebrate a friend's fortieth birthday (downtown manhattan). recognizing that the two are mutually exclusive scheduling wise, we jettison the concept of going to the city at midnight ... under the best of circumstances we're under the covers with a glass of wine by 10pm every night. it's only noon and we practically have to start getting ready!

marlee tries on all of jane's clothes and shoes, piled up nilly willy around our clean and spartan room. it remains a beautiful day. what's going to happen to this very uncomplicated life we lead? lots of weekend time with the kids, hanging out in nolita or at the south shore beaches? how will jane fare? it will be strange for her - to 'lose' her rather well-endowed breasts. and what about her hair - flat ironed, colored, flowing - will she need treatment beyond our own self-diagnosed surgery? [she always wanted smaller boobs ... not the best way to go about it, darling]. personally, i don't care about any of that ... that sounds wrong ... i care, of course, if jane cares, but that does not 'define' her in my eyes. i just want her to be well.

we get dressed, jane looks lovely in her silver heels and hoops, her long, clingy hervé leger style dress that she picked up at the designer market on bleecker street. we make a rather dashing couple for old, washed up souls that we are - me in my black velvet h&m jacket and my newly sprouted mustache (the bane of jane and the kids' existence). jared is going out, marlee and andi will be home, and we are off too.

as we dance later at the party following the religious service, we are handed sunglasses as party favors while boogying on the floor. we both put them on, and suddenly jane looks like a young diane keaton in some movie - i can't recall - and i really see that we are at this stage in life. jane has cancer, we're swinging at an affair, and we're middle aged. we are, in fact, all grown up, at another crossroad. she looks beautiful, and i'm feeling a bit randy looking at her.