Griffith Park Observatory

After a long morning of 'hospital' we hit the observatory, had lunch in Los Feliz and visited one of my favorite book stores. I love days like this --the ones you anticipate to be so terrible, and instead prove that life is after all -- quite wonderful.

First GI test

Never have we been more proud of our little Frog.

When the appointment was scheduled, we weren't told that Froggy would be TIED DOWN for two hours while they took pictures of her 'stomach emptying'.

They told us she was not to eat or drink for eight hours prior. We complied and our little Froggy was starvin' marvin' by 9am. FD made her a snack breakfast and she snarfed down a pbj, bacon, cheese and blueberries. The tech was impressed.

I told Froggy that after she ate she was to dress up like a mummy, all wrapped up, so they could take pictures of her belly. For two hours, she lay perfectly still watching a video and only started to get impatient at the end.

It's so funny because Froggy is such a little stinker for us at home. But at the doctor's office, she is an absolute angel! She anticipates what the doctor is going to ask her to do, sticking out her tongue before asked, lying down for her exams, she's a pro at throat culture, rarely gets too upset, even for a blood draw. It's like she becomes her best self when the going get's tough. Wow, what a kid. So proud. And for the record, I would still be proud even if she screamed through the entire procedure.

Health Stuff

Froggy came down with a stomach virus on Friday and hasn't eaten much. She's lost some weight, but finally started eating again today. This mama was nervous and almost cried when Froggy ate a piece of bacon today.

We met with the GI doc and here are the facts:

We have four appointments in the next two weeks. They'll run tests on Froggy's GI system to make sure everything runs smoothly and all organs are in the right place.

We'll meet with our GI doc again on the 16th to discuss the results of everything and most likely will go into the hospital for the g-tube at the end of February. Froggy will spend three days in the hospital and have to wear a big tube for about three months. After that, her tube will be replaced with a button.

I welcome any advice, help, words of wisdom regarding the g-tube. We are entering unchartered territory and it's scary.

Froggy at 53 months:

Weight: 31 pounds
Height: 3 feet 3 inches
BMI: 14.3 (20th percentile)

And a little Froggyism...

Tonight we were snuggling in bed discussing nicknames. Froggy asked mine, I said, "Lisi, Spucky, Froggymama, and my mean older sister used to call me Wienie."

I said, "You have nicknames too. Froggy, Addiecakes, Babybean, honeybuns, etc, etc." Froggy said, "No my nickname is Matches, call me Matches."

What? She is such a weirdo. I bought her a new little pet toy and she named him "fruit treat." What a goof.

Something strange happened tonight.

I've been reading the book SIXTYFIVE ROSES - A SISTER'S MEMOIR. It's about a woman named Pamela who was born in the 1950's with Cystic Fibrosis. The story is told by her sister Heather, who recounts their life together in rural Canada at the beginning stages of "treatment" for CF, and the incredible feat of Pam living into her late 20's. It's a beautiful memoir and of course very difficult to read. I sobbed several times, held the book to my chest, wiping my eyes before I could continue.

Even though the story is told from the perspective of the sister, I couldn't help but relate to the mom. This CF mama raised two children with CF and two without, did manual CPT 2-4 hours a day, changed and dried the sheets every day from her daughter's mist tent, baked, cooked, cleaned, polished, mended, went back to school while her daughter was dying to acquire her nursing degree and basically took over her end of life care. Their family started outreach and education in Canada for CF research and started support groups for other CF families. They worked from sun up to sun down to keep their CF kiddos alive, to raise money, awareness and education. Their dedication was beyond parenthood. It was celestial, and I can only hope to be that strong.

As difficult as it was to read, I was able to distance myself a little due to the progress in CF treatments. It was necessary for me to say, "things have changed, it will be different for Froggy."

But I could absolutely relate to Heather's feelings of a fleeting life, her anger, frustration, feelings of putting her life and career on hold, struggling with spirituality, and eventually finding a peace in the acceptance of "surrendering."

Wander with me for a moment...

Today Froggy and I spent the afternoon at the Getty Center. She rolled down the grassy lawn, climbed the boulders, played in the fountains, was reprimanded by the security guards for doing these things, ran through the garden, made a friend, and had a fabulous Froggy time. Afterwards, we stopped at Trader Joe's for groceries and Froggy asked the manager for a pink balloon. He of course obliged. How could he say no?

While I prepared meds, treatment, and dinner, Froggy played with her pink balloon. She bopped Buddy on the head, ran through the house with the dog chasing her, tied her stuffed animals to it, and was sad to part with it when going to bed.

After rocking Froggy to sleep, I sat on the sofa and continued reading this book. As I reached the very last sentence of the book, the pink balloon that was filled with helium, floating on the ceiling, fell all the way to the floor. It wasn't a gradual fall, it was as if the air had suddenly gone out.

The book ends with the death of Pamela. The very last line is "I have learned that no matter what misfortunes or joys one may be faced with - life will surely go on... with love. -Pamela Gaye Summerhayes 1954-1980.

FD and I watched the pink balloon fall to the floor and felt that sensation where you know something has taken place. Today was one of those perfect days, overlooking the city, the bird's eye view of LA, the beach and mountains. We road the tram, giggled in the fountain, ran through the garden, watched deer grazing on the hillside. It was a perfect day.

I know there is more. That life does not end when our bodies do, when the helium is let out of the balloon. We keep going somewhere that overlooks the city, where ocean and mountains are within reach, and kids roll down the hills, play in the fountains and touch the sculptures without ever being reprimanded. I know this in my heart. But every once in a while, it is nice to be reminded.

CF Mamas and Papas

A good video to watch, if you haven't already. Click HERE.

Just go bake cookies

Wrote this a couple days ago and didn't feel like bringing everyone down. Now I'm feeling better, more hopeful, but thought I should post this anyway in case other CF moms/dads feel the same...


I remember when Froggy was diagnosed at four months thinking, "In four years there will be a cure." Four years seemed a monumental amount of time. Because of the research I was reading, the new meds moving through the development pipeline... I'd hoped that by now, we would be there. That hope or denial was keeping me afloat. But lately I've been sinking.

Froggy has been talking about her birthday in September. She can't wait to be five. Her birthday cannot come fast enough for her. But I'm secretly dreading it. I don't want my baby to age without a cure. I don't want another year where her little lungs have to breathe through murky CF mucus. When most parents look forward to their children growing, I'm scared of more candles on the birthday cake. I want to freeze time, to magically suspend ourselves in the universe until gene therapy catches up.

The other day I was telling my friend Meeps about Froggy needing a g-tube. Her eyes instantly filled with tears and she said, "When will it be over?" I said, "It will never be over." And that last bit of denial left my body. It will always be something with this stupid disease.

I feel like the older Froggy becomes, the closer we come to cirrhosis of the liver, diabetes, kidney failure, lung transplant. I'm depressed thinking that the best years of our life are now. I can't hold onto it. I can't enjoy everyday enough. I can't love Froggy enough, hold her enough, kiss her enough, knowing that this is the healthiest she will ever be. I can't sustain it. I never want to let go of my healthy girl. I never want her to have a pic line, or need a transplant, to spend more time in the hospital than out. It's like a Twilight Zone episode where a fortune teller comes up to someone on the street and says, "I predict your life will be all downhill from here."

With the g-tube, her liver enzymes elevated, Froggy clearing her throat more...all these signs confirm the reality of CF.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I think our life is normal, even with treatments and meds, I forget that this is real. And then I heard the word "chronic illness" or I have to call our health insurance and tell the woman, "If she doesn't get these medications, she'll die," and I just want to scream at this stranger on the other end of the phone, "I don't care what strings you have to pull, I don't care what my policy says, just be a human being!"

I think one of the reasons I've been dreading the g-tube is that when you look at Froggy, there are no physical signs that anything is wrong. She's perfect. But with a g-tube, CF will be visible. The outside of her body will reveal the truth, her inside doesn't work.

I know it's best for her, I know this will help her in the long run, but I just don't want it to be real. I won't have days where CF disappears anymore. We'll have this physical reminder, sticking out of her side, this reminder we wash around in the tub, a reminder at the pool, another reminder that we are powerless. And I suppose, like all things CF, it will one day become normal. I'll stop noticing the plastic button where skin used to be, and just see my girl. I know this. But right now my heart hurts. Right now I'd like to crawl under the covers and hibernate for a few days. But I'm a mom, so rather than hiding away, I'll go do laundry and see if the Frog wants to bake some oatmeal raisin cookies....

And by the way, the cookies were fabulous!

I Keep You

i perch my nose on the nape of your neck
breathing in that salt perfume
i think 'remember this'

you sleep

don't forget the smell of her
for a moment
keep it in a locket, tucked in the safest corner

that place
where she can always be found
a warehouse of scents
after the beach
after the park
after preschool
sand, wind, elmer's glue
keep it
keep it
don't lose her

my face tangled in spiderweb curls

living in that beat like a tuba player -
a breath that can play an entire song
without stopping

stay there
in this permanent world

the salty musk

i breathe you in
i keep you

by Froggymama

A little panicky

We are probably going to lose CCS (California Children's Services) because our income increased with FD's new job.

I'm very worried because of past experiences with Blue Cross.

For years, we were trying to get Froggy's compounded Prevacid covered. CCS said they would pay for it, only if our insurance 'denied' it. Blue Cross refused to deny it. They said, "It's a covered medication, but you have 100% copay." When I asked, "How the hell is it covered if I'm paying for the entire bill," they replied, "It's on our list of approved medications, but with your plan anything compounded or brand name is 100% copay."

I'm terrified that they are going to do this with all of Froggy's meds. Tobi, Pulmozyme, Pancrecarb - all brand name, all thousands of dollars each month. Even if the medication is on their list of covered-meds, if it's a brand name, it's 100% copay.

Is this legal? How can this be legal? They get around it by saying it's covered, so they won't 'deny' it, but won't pay for it either?

I've contacted an agency, our social worker and nurse care manager, as well as the CF forums. I'm hoping someone has the answer.

Insurance Help!

I'd love any advice with this...

Since FD started working full-time, we'll lose our state-funded supplemental insurance. Froggy has medical insurance through Blue Cross, but her policy (that I purchased before knowing she had CF) does not cover brand-name drugs. As you all know, basically ALL CF medications are brand-name. And either there isn't a generic, or the generic is so awful, CF docs won't even write prescriptions for them.

Has anyone been through this? Where do we begin? Our social worker at the hospital gave me a number to call a service that works with women and children. I left a message with them, but would like to get the word out that we need some advice.

I called Blue Cross and we can apply for a different policy, but the rep. basically said there is "no way" they would approve a new policy. Lovely. Okay world, send me the answer!

Dr. Froggy?

This is Froggy's new bedtime story. She wants us to read it to her every evening and begs, "Just one more page!" It is not light-reading, as I struggle to explain the three parts of the small intestine. In case you're wondering, it's the duodenum, the jejunum and the ileum. Yeah, say that while balancing a vibrating toddler, nebulizer and monster book. Whew, this mama is learning more than I ever wanted to know about the digestive system. Oh how I miss GOODNIGHT MOON.

Good Friends

I especially love this last one.

The Butterfly Whisperer

We found a chrysalis, put it on a houseplant and look what happened?

Unbelievable

Pat Robertson said that the Haitians brought poverty and natural disaster on themselves because of a "pact with the devil" they made in order to gain independence from France. Essentially, this is their punishment for wanting freedom.

I'm sure those sentiments are comforting for the people of Haiti to know that they actually deserved what they got -- as they search through the rubble for their children. I'm appalled and disgusted. Pat Robertson is the reason people do not want to call themselves Christians. Because if he claims to be one, why would anyone want to be in that 700 club? I hope there are reprocussions for these statements. I hope that this kind of ignorance and hatred masking itself in religion is understood for what it is. I hope that Christian leaders are brave enough to denounce these ridiculous justifications for natural distasters, and call him out. As FD put it this morning, "he should know about the devil, he is one."

A Jewish friend explained that "taking the Lord's name is vain" does not translate in Hebrew as saying "Oh God," but rather doing or justifying your actions in the name of God. Saying or doing something evil while saying, "it is in the name of God," - starting wars, blowing up buildings, blaming poor people for natural disasters. Basically, God is saying, "look it's on you buddy, don't hold me accountable for your nastiness." This is a perfect example. Pat Robertson, shame on you.. It's not God or the devil or a pact at the Crossroads with Eric Clapton and Janis Joplin. It's an earthquake, not an opportunity to scare people into sending you money. Ugh, enough said.

You can watch the video and read the story HERE.

Tough Questions

Yesterday... out of the blue.

Froggy: Mommy, did you have Cyxtix Fabrosas when you were little too?

FM: No honey.

Froggy: Why not?

A very long pause as I brace myself, thinking 'she'll remember this moment forever, don't blow it Mama.'

Froggy: Mommy, why not?

FM: Mommy wasn't born with it.

Froggy: Was Daddy?

FM: Nope.

Froggy: So, why do I have Cyxtix Fabrosas?

FM: You were born with it honey. Just like you were born with blue eyes and brown hair. It's just how you were made.

Froggy: Oh, okay (happily goes back to playing).

And then I went in the kitchen, took some deep breaths, wiped my eyes and ran back into the livingroom to tickle and love our little Froggy.

I don't know how to answer these questions. I show Froggy pictures of my friend's blogs and their kiddos with CF, as well as the adult CF blogs I follow. I tell her they all do treatments and take meds, and go to the doctor. She remembers their names and knows their faces, and when we talk about CF, she says, "just like Ojaio, or Abby, or Cara?" I hope this creates a community for her. Understanding, really understanding what it is like to have CF is the one gift I can't give her. I don't know how to answer these questions, I don't know what it's like. I don't know how much we should tell kids once she starts school. I just don't know. But I'll follow her lead and knowing Froggy, she'll have all the answers.

Just a great poem

Searchers
by Jim Harrison

At dawn Warren is on my bed,
a ragged lump of fur listening
to the birds as if deciding whether or not
to catch one. He has an old man's
mimsy delusion. A rabbit runs across
the yard and he walks after it
thinking he might close the widening distance
just as when I followed a lovely woman
on boulevard Montparnasse but couldn't equal
her rapid pace, the click-click of her shoes
moving into the distance, turning the final
corner, but when I turned the corner
she had disappeared and I looked up
into the trees thinking she might have climbed one.
When I was young a country girl would climb
a tree and throw apples down at my upturned face.
Warren and I are both searchers. He's looking
for his dead sister Shirley, and I'm wondering
about my brother John who left the earth
on this voyage all living creatures take.
Both cat and man are bathed in pleasant
insignificance, their eyes fixed on birds and stars.

"Searchers" by Jim Harrison, from Saving Daylight. © Copper Canyon Press, 2006.

Froggyism

As you all know, Froggy is a cat and dog food connoisseur. She's always had a palate for kibble.

This was our conversation today, after I caught the Frog in the closet munching on kitty food.

FM: What are you doing?

Froggy: (a mouth-full of Purina One) Go into my room Mommy, leave me alone.

FM: Are you eating cat food?

Froggy: (shoving another piece in her mouth) Mmmmhmmmm.

FM: Okay listen, you need to make decisions on your own. Mommy can't always watch you. So, here's the deal. Cat and dog food are made out of yucky ingredients.

Froggy listens intently, but still continues to pop kitty kernels in her mouth.

FM: Cat and dog food is made out of bones and gristle, fat and (get ready) horse meat. Do you really want to eat a horsie?

Froggy thinks about her answer for a moment.

Froggy: Yes, horses taste goooood! I love horsie meat.

Neighhhhh....Sorry Mr. Ed.

Books Read 2009

Froggymama's Grading System

no stars: don't bother sister
*pretay good
**pretay, pretay good
***if you don't read this, you're crazy
****read this or you can't come to my birthday party

NON-FICTION

The Tipping Point - by Malcolm Gladwell***

Stumbling on Happiness - by Daniel Gilbert***


FICTION

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle - by David Wroblewski***

The Shack - by William P. Young

The House of Mirth - by Edith Wharton****

Jane Eyre - by Charlotte Bronte****

Loving Frank - by Nancy Horan*

The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint - by Brady Udall*

The Red Tent - by Anita Diamant****

Survivor - by Chuck Palahniuk***

The Skin of the Lion - by Michael Ondaatje***

The Time Traveler’s Wife – by Audrey Niffenegger***

Eye of the Needle – by Ken Follett**

The Shadow Catcher – by Marianne Wiggins***

The Hour I First Believed – by Wally Lamb****

Bel Canto - by Ann Patchett***

Perfume – by Patrick Suskind***

Case Histories – by Kate Atkinson***

The Help – by Kathryn Stockett***

The Shanghai Girls – by Lisa See***

The Elegance of the Hedgehog – Muriel Barbery (will read before the year is up)


MEMOIR

The Middleplace by Kelly Corrigan***

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls****

Three Cups of Tea by David Oliver Relin and Greg Mortenson****

Without a Map – by Meredith Hall***

When You Are Engulfed in Flames – by David Sedaris (still reading)***


SELF-HELP/RESEARCH

Buddha never raised kids and Jesus didn’t drive carpool – seven principles for parenting with soul – by Vickie Falcone**

When Things Fall Apart “Heart Advice for Difficult Times” – by Pema Chodron****

The Addictive Personality “Understanding the Addictive Process and Compulsive Behavior” – by Craig Nakken***

The Case for Faith – by Lee Strobel**

The Five Love Languages – by Gary Chapman***

The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People – by Stephen Covey***


This was a great year for reading. There are a few books I read that had a huge impact on me. So if you're looking for something to rock your world, these are my selections in order: Three Cups of Tea (it will change the way you think of world politics and relations, if Greg Mortenson doesn't win the Nobel Peace Prize, tis a shame), The Red Tent, (A story about Rachel and Leah, and the many wives of Jacob. It's a delicious novel about women working together to raise children and support one another.), The Glass Castle (I can not stop thinking about the characters in this memoir, it is just too insane to be real, and beautifully written), Jane Eyre (One of the best stories I've ever read), and finally, When Things Fall Apart (a book about leaning into the pain, really facing and accepting life - highly recommend!). Happy reading! And please let me know what books you couldn't put down.

Iowa...embracing the cold part 2

Driving to Iowa City for a kid-less vacation with my sister!

First things first.

Visiting the theatre building...ah the smell of sawdust brought back memories.

One of my old apartment buildings. It was a frat house converted into very small studio apartments. I found my cat Piper here. She came from a feral mama who was taken by animal control. But they couldn't catch Piper (we still can't). She was hiding in a pipe (thus the name Piper) and I had to use falcon gloves to pull her out. She was WILD. She's calmed down in her old age, but still not a big snuggler.

I used to drive these buses! Never hit a single person.

So did Auntie Honka! She did hit people. No, just kidding.

At the theatre building.

Having dinner at my favorite restaurant - The Sanctuary.

Visiting with an old friend and his wife.

Pondering my next beer.

Posing like dorks at our hotel room. Hey, it's a big deal for me to get out, and to stay in a hotel without a number in the title.

Cozy beds with actual comforters. I'm so easily pleased.

The hotel had a casino...where I realized I may have a gambling problem. Fortunately Auntie pulled me away from the slots before we had to call 1800-bets-off. And I only lost $20.

We had a fabulous time and I only called home 15 times to see how Froggy was doing. Baby steps.

Iowa - embracing the cold, part one.

I got a snowball with your name on it.

Auntie Honka kissing and possibly 'feeling up' the snowman.

Remember the movie "A Christmas Story?" This is the pink version.

Kissing Frosty.

Papa and Froggy working on the torso.

Ccc.ccc...cold

Tomorrow morning it will be 5 degrees. The wind chill...get ready.... twenty below zero. I've lived in LA so long, I forgot what it feels like to have your nostrils freeze together. Ahhhh good times!

Froggy LOVES the cold. She boasted to her Papa that she never, never, never (nine nevers) gets cold. As we speak she's running around the house sans clothes. What a weirdo. I predict she'll be one of those crazy people who does polar plunges. Not me. I'm in layers with wool socks and have been turning the heat up at least one degree everyday we've been here.

As we exited the airport Friday, Froggy was amazed to actually SEE her breath. We built a snow man, had a snow ball fight (Froggy won), made snow angels, hit the Science Center, drank hot toddies, Mom made a roast, visited Grammy, and it's only Monday. Whew.

Auntie Honka and I are driving to Iowa City tomorrow to visit our old college town. GO HAWKS!!! Froggy will stay with Grandma and Papa while we hit our old haunts for some music, cheese bread from the Old Mill and hopefully some local music. Even in zero degrees, we're feeling the warmth of family. I know... I know... schmaltzy.

Into the Brrrrrrr!

In the ferris wheel on the Santa Monica Pier

(Sand angel - the CA equivolent of snow angel)

Froggy and I fly to Iowa today. Brrr. I've been told by my family that it's going to be quite warm this weekend... the high a whopping 30 degrees. We are totally unprepared and will be doing some shopping tomorrow for a snow suit and mittens.

Despite the freezing temps, we cannot wait to be home!!! Dad, make some hot toddies! Mom, turn up the heat (and no 67 is not warm enough), and Auntie...bring over Ruby so we can make a snow dog angel!!! Can't wait!!!

A Kind Gesture

This morning I got to sleep in til 8:30! Which in parent time is the equivolent of a teenager's 3:30 in the afternoon. And then, like an answer to a collective prayer, FD and Froggy brought me breakfast in bed. Just like that, one kind gesture, and I know today will be different.

Life as we know it

Over the weekend, a good friend of mine from high school visited with her husband.

I know it's wrong to compare, that witnessing someone's relationship from the outside and comparing it to the inside of one's own relationship is an unfair comparison. I know this.

I also know that I got a glimpse of what healthy love is. What it looks like at least from the outside -when there is mutual respect, admiration, and adoration. I've had glimpses of this from my sister and her husband, my friends, and my own parents. My sister's husband books flights for her, takes her to the theatre, reserves dinner reservations, sets up their payments online, fills her car with gas, and makes an effort to spend time with our family. To me, these gestures are love. There is a thought and action of love.

My girlfriend who visited never had to worry about the rental car, about looking up directions for their trip, making arrangements for dinner, moving their car to a new spot late at night. My parents still giggle, laugh at each other's jokes, kiss one another upon coming home. I know what healthy love looks like. I know that healthy love does not involve name calling, does not blame and deny, does not lie or seek pain. I know that healthy love involves partners watching out for each other, wanting the best, seeking friendship. I know this is not our relationship. And even though in my heart, I knew these things were true, it didn't become real until I saw the authentic kind.

I know this life has not been easy. I know that dreams did not come true, that we've had to extract the joy out of a tough situation. I know that late at night I move the car, take the dog out, pay the bills and do the treatments, make sure the house is clean and laundry done, write thank-you notes, read the self-help and "how to make love work" books, that I am tired and raw and overwhelmed and at the end of the day it is just me here. Me. And I'm so sick of me. I want a partner who reads the books, who books the flights, who does the work, who cleans the cars, who boils the nebulizers, who scoops the poop, who writes the checks, who makes the breakfast, who runs the bath, vacuums the dog hair, and picks up the toddler, who takes care of me, and is motivated by love. I am so tired of taking care of everyone and have finally, finally come to the conclusion, after glimpses and yes, even comparisons that it is only right that these things were always meant to be shared, that there is no get out of jail free card, no get out of cleaning the bathroom card, this is life. This is our life. And it's hard and frustrating. It does not promise instant gratification or ego boosts. And I'm not condemning, of course there have been shared responsibilities. Neither one of us is living it up in Cabo. We are both tired and working very hard. FD is working 60 hours/week now at the hospital. We are working, working hard.

I have never felt that if I fell, there would be a partner to pick me up. I've felt that there isn't time or room to fall. That if I fall, the family falls too.

It is more than the action of moving the car from the wrong side of the street, or booking dinner reservations, it is the spirit in which it's done. These are not chores delegated from a tired wife, these are the parts that make the whole work. I never signed up to be bad cop, I never filled out the application for cleaning parole officer, but this is how it ended up. Someone has to be the jerk who reminds everyone of oil changes and pediatric appts, dentist visits, veterinary appts, and overdue parking tickets. And I don't mind being the jerk. I'm used to it by now. It's one thing to be the jerk, it's another thing to be treated like a jerk.

I'm finding it very difficult to find kindess in my heart these days. It is usually something that comes naturally. When my friends or family are hurting and need something, it hurts not to make it better, to show that person they are loved.

Now, my instinct is not kindness, my initial reaction is not to relate or condone, to comfort or pacify. My instinct is to protect, to shield and confront. My instinct is to question intentions, to wonder why helping does not come easily, why everything is so hard, why the team has gone home. My heart hurts. My stomach hurts. I want a family. I don't want to fight, but can't put my gloves down either. Because whether I like it or not, we are in the ring. And this does not resemble love. It doesn't come close. I think even in the worst of times love isn't standing there saying, "Put your dukes up!" I just think that if you want something to work, you make it work, if you want to fight it, you do. In some ways love is that simple. And I think the people who make it work, simply think about their other half first. Before you eat, before you sit, before you sleep, love is, "What about you, my dear." .....If only in my dreams.