Barbecue chicken and blueberry pie

I have these snapshots...moments I've seen so clearly and hoped would happen someday. Sure, there are snapshots about seeing my name in InStyle Weddings or being invited back to Oprah, but many of my snapshots have to do with my life, my home. Especially my yard, where I've recently created a little oasis for myself with plants and my hammock. A few days ago, Joe made one of them come true -- not just true, but beyond true. He came over with his grill and cooked up barbecue chicken, and he brought over some couscous and salad with a raspberry vinaigrette, chips and salsa and some Sam Adams summer ale. It was like Dorothy walking out her newly-dropped house into full color -- I opened the patio door and there was this amazing man barbecuing chicken. I set down the bowl of salad and dressing that I was carrying and just drank in the moment. It was utter beauty. He turned his head and smiled at me, and all I was thinking was "Thank you." We didn't get to hang out on the hammock due to the high levels of pollen here where I live (it looks like it's snowing green dust), but that day is coming. I think if I had too many snapshot dreams come true at once, I would explode.

Yesterday was my father's birthday. As you might remember from earlier posts, my dad has multiple myeloma, a blood cancer and has been on chemo. I went over to his house in the morning, not knowing what to expect since his oxygen tank had been delivered the day before. After the two years of my mom's cancer, I'm not a big fan of beeping machines. And dad was looking a little gray the past few days. But I walked into the TV room where he was resting, and it was amazing. He's pink again. The oxygen has him feeling great, and he's been walking around and going downstairs, going outside, and cracking his trademark jokes. Again, I said a silent "Thank you." So Dad had a terrific birthday, loved his presents, and to share a Now-It's-Funny moment, since we weren't used to the oxygen tank being in the room, it didn't even occur to my mother and me that bringing a birthday cake with a LIT CANDLE on it would be a bad idea. So we're singing to him, the oxygen tank (which we all call R2D2 now) is bumping out its rhythm, and it hits me: oxygen tank + open flame = bad idea. So I'm pointing and trying to get the words out -- my family tells me I was quite amusing -- until we all got the presence of mind to lunge forward and blow out Dad's candle. We haven't laughed like that in such a long time. My brother quoted a John Cusack movie: "Sorry your Mom's face blew up, Ricky." How I miss my brother's humor...

Dad loved his gifts (new PJs, the complete Mel Brooks DVD collection for laughs, new cologne and a GC for his favorite steakhouse), and we ate lunch with R2D2, had eclairs for dessert, and talked about how much better he's feeling. A great day, followed by a great night. Joe invited me over for pizza, blueberry pie ala mode and Sunday night TV. He makes me smile. My own All-American guy for whom I say many silent "Thank You's."

It's going to be a busy week -- I've planned an office day today. Fireplace is lit. Coffee's on. I'm in mid-negotiations with a few big opportunities: NBC called and asked "Where did you come from?" My dear friends at ASJA have sent over suggestions for fun gift shops to profile in a new photo feature article. I'm in my Long Beach Island sweatshirt and purple sweatpants with fuzzy slippers, waiting for the rain to wash away all the pollen out there. Just give us three good soaking days and then a perfect weekend. I have snapshots I'm hoping to experience...