Finally, I can Breathe Again

Last weekend I had the total pleasure of sharing in the surprise birthday celebration that I planned for Matt and 23 of his relatives and friends.

Before I go any further talking about this particular soiree, it will help to understand the title of this post if I back up to about 3 months ago when this party first started taking shape. As a manner of comparison, for my 40^th birthday all I asked was to be let in on the day and time I had to be wherever I was being taken. Matt obliged me that information but I knew nothing else.

He never asked for the same.

And I knew what I wanted to do for him as the words…

“I don’t know what to do for your birthday, you have to help me, tell me what you want.”

…came out of my mouth back in early 2016. Because this year he’d be turning 40. This year was a huge milestone birthday. And I knew just how he was feeling about hitting that magic number.

In one word, freaked.

I remember when I was getting closer to the big four-oh. In the months leading up to my birthday I swear to you I was convinced I would just up and croak before I ever got there. Now I know everyone says ‘forty is the new twenty’ or whatever other platitude they like hearing themselves say out loud, but to me it was hard to imagine myself getting older.

Yes, despite the graying eyelashes, sagging boobs, slowing metabolism, I somehow managed to delude myself that I was still in my twenties or something. So when Matt admitted that he was kind of losing it over the upcoming day, I was just glad the party planning was already set in stone.

Because nothing makes a person feel younger than getting together in a room, filled with people they love, to laugh, cheer, eat, drink, and do all that ‘be merry’ stuff that makes life the best thing ever.

I chose to surprise him with renting a suite at Chase Field, on opening weekend, then filling it with 12 of his good friends, and get his dad and step-mom in from California, and get family in from Tucson, and get his mom in from Mississippi, and somehow manage to convince his sister and her 3 boys to make the trek out here from Boston.

And by some miracle of chance, all 23 of us (plus the handful of people at his office who also knew what was going on) managed to keep the layered secret since I first asked people to express their level of interest in buying their ticket to the game, and celebrating Matt, back on January 5.

Can I just for one second take a minute to acknowledge just how difficult it is to keep that much awesomeness inside your body? Especially considering:

• I’ve never kept secrets from Matt in the 17ish years we’ve known each other.
• He’s usually the first person I see at the end of the work day and I like recounting my day with him.
• I work at home, alone, so I like to yammer on for a while after he gets home.
• I just don’t lie. Ever. To anyone. Not anymore. I mean, when I was a kid, sure, but as an adult that seems pointless.

Boy was I ever wrong! The good news is I only had to tell one lie during all of this scheming and plotting. Amazing to say the least.

So are you ready to relive the whole experience along with me? Here’s how the timeline went…

January: Who’s in?

January: Holy crap, everyone is in?

January: Start thinking about where to house people.

February: Collect money from everyone – PayPal, shove cash in my pocket at a happy hour, stop by after work and drop cash just moments before Matt gets home (there was a lot of that kind of stuff).

February: Pay the first half of the suite rental fee / repeatedly hunt down the ticket rep.

February: Start the process of our home’s refi (meaning we shouldn’t put new, expensive purchases on our credit card and obviously the extra added challenge I really needed during party central planning stages).

February: Start formulating how I/we would get Matt to the ballpark. Deposit the last of the money from outside sources. Pay a huge chunk of the credit card bill & pray it won’t be an issue for the refi.

March: Email Matt’s boss/our loan officer to fill her in on the situation (AKA: don’t ask Matt about huge charges on the card, ask me!)

March: Final payment to suite rental. A small lull in party stuff ensues.

March: Close on the refi and (because Matt doesn’t know we will have people sleeping here), start doing construction again all around the house. Silently curse at my ladder every time I walk by it.

March: See about 100 new gray hairs starting to sprout while I try to maintain my composure because despite all the running to pick up/drop off, plan, email, etc. back and forth on party business, I still have to work every day, clean the house, do the life stuff I always do like there’s nothing else going on. Develop twitch over left eye.

March: Watch as my frayed nerve endings start jumping out of my body and realize there’s nothing I can do about it. Sweep dead nerve endings under area rug to be dealt with in April.

April: Finally! But wait, my in-laws, I hear, have plans and can’t house family. I start texting and making calls. Nobody responds in the ten seconds I expect them to respond in. Sheesh, how rude!

April: Oh shit, where will my SIL stay if my in-laws aren’t free? Agita takes hold.

April: Calls back and forth with my MIL – we can split the cost for a hotel stay. Begin researching hotels with a shuttle from the airport and/or are walking distance to Chase or our house.

April: There are zero hotels available in greater Phoenix. This is high season. You can stay in Scottsdale for $400 a night, but only 4 of you, not 5.

April: FIL & StepMIL save the day, the plans they had are altered, all 4 of the Boston fam can stay at the RV, plus I don’t have to lie about where I’m going at 10PM on a Thursday night because they have a vehicle big enough to pick up SIL and the kids at the airport.

April: I manage to exhale just a bit while I start doing the happy dance.

April: I tell Matt my mom is also coming up for the weekend and have to lie when he questions why – the one lie!

April: Coordinate with my sister and mom to be the drivers to the ballpark and arrive for early set up.

April: Consider hugging my friends and not letting go when they agree to put up my MIL for the night before the party as well as agree to be the carpool loading station for the bulk of the group.

April 6: Create an actual flowchart for the timeline of Friday’s events because I’m afraid of forgetting some small detail that will throw off the entire thing and cause my already thinning skull to implode.

April 4-7: Finish the small construction projects that need done for safety when family is in town, work, dry run to the ballpark so I don’t get lost, ensure Boston family is in safe and sound. Drop tickets for friends who won’t be able to meet up with the carpool caravan. Drool on myself and pass out on the sofa at 9PM just about every night.

8:20AM Friday April 8: Matt leaves the house late for work, like really late, for the first time maybe in his life. The moment the garage door closes I fly through a shower because I need to get to Sky Harbor to pick up my MIL, which happens with no drama but lots of traffic. We get breakfast then head to the mall to waste some time and catch up (this was really nice, I don’t always get time with my MIL because she lives pretty far away). My mom arrives at our house to drop some stuff. MIL and I head over to meet mom (praying Matt doesn’t come home for lunch or something). Mom and MIL take off for the afternoon. I haul ass up to the Musical Instrument Museum to drop tickets and a parking pass to FIL, StepMIL, SIL & nephews. I haul ass back home so I can clean before the rest of the Tucson family arrives for our “normal weekend” routine.

4:18PM April 8: I sit down on the couch with a snack, finish it, and go to get up to put my plate in the sink when I realize my legs will literally not move. Sit staring at the wall for about ten minutes while my brain does a hard reboot. Cannot compute. System failure. Switching to back up brain for next 24 hours. Running at 11% capacity.

5:00 – 5:15 April 8: Pray my mom remembers how to get to friend’s house to drop MIL, get text from Matt – he’ll be out 15 minutes early! Text friend to make sure my mom is on the way back.

5:22 April 8: Stare out front window praying the mom mobile rounds the corner before Matt. She does! We get bags inside approximately 4 minutes before Matt rolls into the driveway. Wendy & BIL roll in about 6:00. Drinks and a fun evening ensue.

Until Saturday mid-afternoon our weekend contained nothing out of the ordinary – Matt made a couple runs to Harbor Freight to do a project that morning, the family got showered and ready, and when Matt booted the compressor they all took off to go meet the crew of peeps at our friend’s place.

Then it was just the two of us.

And I knew he was going to want to lie down for an afternoon nap so I had to tell him something.

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Okay, then you have 15 minutes to finish this project before you have to be in the shower.”

“I knew it! I knew something must be happening this weekend!”

And at 3:06PM on April 9 we were on our way to Chase Field. I took a weird route to throw him off. But it’s impossible to hide a ballpark. He started getting really excited. He knew there would be at least 3 people at the game because they left our house early.

I text Wendy to tell her we arrived.

We head to suite level and he about loses it because he never sat in a suite at a ballgame before. I text Wendy that we’re a few minutes out.

We arrive at Suite 5 and I tap then he enters the room…

Countless phones are up recording his reaction as 22 amazing people yell SURPRISE!!!!!

And let me tell you something right now. All the stress, panic, exposed nerve endings of the last couple months? TOTALLY worth it at the sight of his face when he scanned the crowd and discovered just who was there to celebrate him!

As the day wore on (into the wee hours of the morning with the after party back at our place of course) small bits and pieces of the planning and scheming were revealed but mostly it was a time where Matt could be with so many people he loves. People he doesn’t get to see all that often.

My work was done. He was pretty much over the moon. And as far as I’m concerned, that sounds so much more fun than being over the hill.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Days Weeks Months, and the Years Go By

It’s difficult to know where to even start. I’ve been absent for days, weeks, (it feels like months) and so much has happened that it almost feels like too much time has transpired to report back on it. But I’m going to do my best because in the last few weeks life has thrown out a rollercoaster ride of emotions and I’ve been lucky enough to be able to go along for the ride.

There have been some good times, some bummer times and some amazing moments that could never be fully captured in words no matter how good a writer I am. Sometimes you really just ‘had to be there’.

And if you were here for any of them I need to say a HUGE thank you!

June marked an entirely new chapter in my life and sharing it with (you know who you are) you was AH-mazing!

Let’s start with the ugly & work our way to the awesome shall we?

Abrupt Ending

By now anyone who’s even a moderate sports fan (or friends with me) knows that the Bruins lost in their quest for the Cup against the Chicago Blackhawks. It was a tough fought series and I think the B’s really held their own despite losing four games to two. And they lost on home ice. Which of course stings a little bit.

But as exciting as it was to watch my hometown team play some of their best hockey all the way up to game 6 (and as nice as it would’ve been to watch them lift the Cup) I have to admit that I’m secretly glad hockey is over for this season.

The temperatures were getting a little warm and with the shortened season I think this is the latest into the summer I’ve ever seen the boys in black and gold play. I mean, the season starts again in about two months. Plus watching upwards of four games a week was getting a little tough to manage. But I love hockey and especially hard-hitting hockey like the playoffs. But being in Phoenix means 115+ temps and now I just want to be in my pool for a couple months.

Speaking of hockey, some of the off-season changes have me reeling a little bit:

• Andy Ference, my second favorite player on the Bruins and my number one favorite environmental activist is being let go in favor of cheaper defensemen because of the lowered cap. This sucks in so many ways I can’t even begin to say how much it sucks. A Bruin and Boston community activist for seven years, Andy’s commitment to his team and teammates will be sorely missed next season.
• Nathan Horton didn’t entertain any offers from the Bruins before electing to go with his Free Agency status. Which basically just sucks because if ever there was a line that had chemistry it was the Lucic-Krejci-Horton line. We’ll see what this Friday brings during the free agency deadline.
• Pretty much every single core player with the exception of only a few will need surgery for something or other this off season. Bergeron played the last game with multiple issues (hole in lung, broken rib) and others like Horton, Seidenberg, Chara, all have injuries that probably had them playing at less than their optimal selves. I commend them for a job well done under the circumstances!

In hockey years I’d be about 172

In human years I just turned the big 4-0. Yup, I’ve actually entered the period of life where it’s all uphill from here. Yeah I know most people say downhill but that always felt wrong to me. I mean downhill is easier, you can toss her in neutral and just coast. Uphill seems like much more of a battle.

But I digress…

I made a promise to one of my very dear friends, Keith, that I’d write all about the party. Regardless of the fact that I’ve sat down to do just that a few days in a row now, I can’t seem to find any words to do that day any justice. I really think you just had to be here.

Perhaps when I’m looking back in a few years and thinking of the top five parties of my entire life I’ll have the distance from it to write it all out, but not right now. For now I’m going to leave you all with a word cloud that pretty much sums up the overall celebration that started with a big secret Matt concocted months ago, culminates with my crazy party on Saturday June 22, and ends the following weekend when my vacation ended and I finally was able to recover from the enormity of it all.

I love you all!

It’s Official…

I’m finally a paid Writer! I started pursuing my freelance career a few months ago with full force and since then I’ve had five articles published on Yahoo! Voices, three of which I’ve made money from and just last week I was offered a writing position as a blogger for a company that reports on socially responsible companies. Not sure when that starts but I can’t wait!

In the meantime I’m going to finish up my classes and books on how-to write various forms of content and just keep applying for writing gigs as well as submitting articles. My goal is to be self-sustaining from my writing in the next year and I can clearly see that path starting to materialize now.

Cha-ching

At the end of June we refinanced our home into a fifteen year mortgage, something we’ve both been looking forward to doing since we first got the place last year. With the increase in values in Phoenix (it’s a great time to own property here, things are climbing again, steadily but not out of control) we were able to cash-out refi and roll our car payment in plus take a little cash to make some improvements to the efficiency and functionality (plus the beautification) of our home.

In the next couple months we’re planning to replace all of our single-pane aluminum windows with Low-E double (or triple) pane, replace all the exterior doors to prevent gaps where ac sneaks out, spray additional insulation into the attic, replace the pressure valve for our house water, open up the wall from living room to kitchen for an open concept plan and remove the fireplace that takes over the living room, rip out the very poorly installed tile/carpet and put hardwood bamboo throughout, and complete a few other minor things that no one would notice but will make a huge overall impact on efficiency/uniformity (vent covers, doorknobs, etc.).

For the first time in our adult lives we made a good choice when it came to a housing purchase. But it wouldn’t matter if values tanked again tomorrow. We’re not going anywhere and now that we can start personalizing our place I’m even more excited to stay.

Overall June was a pretty kick-ass month around here full of old and new friends and family I wouldn’t have expected to see in my house anytime soon. It really seems like the last three weeks have been a constant party and cause to smile, laugh, and have fun.

And I don’t see any signs of that stopping anytime soon.

• • • • • • • • • • •
Published in multiple print and online sources, Author, Blogger and Freelance Writer Jenn Flynn-Shon has been writing for publication since 2001. Follow her antics on twitter @jennshon

Williams Street

When I was almost twenty years old my life had come to an interesting impasse and I was forced to make a few very difficult decisions in a relatively quick time frame. As I look back on those days now I do nothing more than chuckle, grin slyly and thank whatever greater force brought all of those experiences into my life because I would in no way be where I am now without having had them.

Just a couple days before my birthday in June of that year, my mom kicked me out of the house. In the six or so months prior to that day, many things in my life had changed and that moment was the proverbial straw everyone talks about; the world seemed to cave in and then explode back outward as if an entirely new universe was born. And it was. Life seemed to check and balance itself in a most peculiar way; intertwining moments one might call fate.

I was going to college full time back then and working part time at a record store while I lived at home. A few of my friends and I were commuting everyday to a community college in the area, working towards our Associates degrees (which we all planned to apply towards a Bachelors at the four year university of our choice upon completion). School and I were never ideal bedfellows so I felt uncomfortable most of the time I was there despite the 3.8 GPA I was carrying. I had no idea what I wanted to do however so college appeared to be the only way to go. Hell, everyone else was doing it. Everyone I knew went to school the fall following graduation but I waited until the following January to start since I was so unsure about going at all; I only made it through three semesters, and only two with that killer grade point average, as the following year everything changed.

My grandfather passed away late winter the following year and it affected me hard because he was the first of my grandparents to have died. He had suffered the effects of Alzheimer’s and since it was my first experience with the disease I had no idea what it was all about; it saddened me that he no longer had any idea who I was and I felt uncomfortable visiting him at the nursing home because of it. Around the same time frame a very close friend of mine joined the Army and although Desert Storm was over, I was extremely nervous for him (sadly the Army effected him so much that he was never the same jovial guy he had been before joining). In addition to both of these things I was seeing someone who even I knew I should not have been with.

After my grandfather passed away, my school work started to suffer; I withdrew from a couple classes and those I decided to stay in I dedicated little or no time to. I wanted to get out and live, to remember that I was a young person, to have fun. I met some fantastically spirited people and began what would be many years of drifter partying. Some of these people came attached to my then boyfriend, some to the collegiate experience and some I have no recollection how they came to be but boy was I glad they showed up.

Once my grades plummeted that was pretty much the end of living at home, my mom gave me two days to leave. Happy birthday to me. My aunt let me crash for a week while I frantically tried to find somewhere I could afford to live on my tiny paycheck.

I have absolutely no idea how we had met, if we knew someone in common, or why either of us were even at the school the day we chatted since it was summer break but for some reason right around this time period, Roomie-to-be came into my life. I distinctly remember sitting on the radiator in the hallway between the cafeteria building and the courtyard as we discussed the fact that he was looking for a roommate and the rent was $200. Even on my teeny salary I knew that was a doable figure and within a week I was moving the small number of items I had into the second bedroom of Williams Street.

Roomie was an energetic guy and always full of humor and life. We clicked instantly because we were both just crazy enough to be normal; on some freakish cosmic level I think we knew we had to be friends. He was a great friend who put up with my (to put it kindly) less than stellar boyfriend, crazy friends, polar opposite musical taste, late rent payments and complete distaste for washing dishes but he never, and I mean never, judged me for it. Well at least not to my face.

From the outside, the house was just like any other house in Arlington -- single family, colonial style box with brown siding and concrete stairs -- but inside that house memories were made that never in my life will I ever forget. Then again I may have already forgotten most of them, since it was my first apartment with an older roommate and I was just about to enter my twenties -- that place was party central.

If someone passed by the house on a Friday night and there was not a party going on it may have made them question who was sick or out of town. In fact that question could have occurred on any random night of the week that the cops didn’t knock to tell us to turn the music down. There was always someone there, something going on. The best times though were the ones when after a crazy night of partying everyone had passed out wherever they fell but Roomie and I (and frequently my sister and a few other very close friends) would have made it through the whole night so we chatted quietly with a cup of coffee as the sun came up and we watched it rise through the big bay window with the blue curtains. The one that always had that “keep winter out” plastic attached to it. Of course just like anything, it was never meant to last forever.

Since that time I have lived with a lot of people, some romantically, some as roommates, as well as in a few places on my own and now with Matt, but there was something so completely magical about my first place out of my mom’s house that none of the other situations since have been able to come close to matching. After about a year with Roomie I ended up getting work as a live in nanny and moved out of Arlington and into a room in the family’s house. In an almost symbolic act, the Williams Street house was sold and the new owners tore it down to build a monstrous McMansion duplex. I am glad that the times there will never be able to be replaced and that the house as it was back then will live on in my memory through photographs never fit to print.

Who Rocks More Than You?

The answer you’re looking for would be no one.

You have flown back to the land of sun and parties to mold the young minds that are entrusted to you every day; to live your life in the place you call home while I live my own in the place I call mine. I think I must have put on about 10 pounds from all the beer but then worked it right back off again from all the laughter this past week.

We dropped W off at Logan at about 8:30 this morning which sounds strange even typing it. I had to think about it for a minute; it feels like I have lived two days since sending her off with a huge hug and a fly safely curbside because Matt and I are gearing up to take off on our annual vacation with friends tomorrow bright and early. I miss the days where it was possible to go and sit with someone in the very uncomfortable vinyl chairs right at the gate and give them that one last hug right before they boarded the plane.

We had one wild week of so much fun and sun I would be in a blur if it was not for the photos. Someone once said something to the effect of “I love digital photos, they allow you to reminisce immediately” and that is what we have done all week. There were many times spent just the two of us to talk about life and family or friends, as well as many others completely surrounded by those same family and friends making new memories that we will no doubt laugh about for the next twenty years.

Man I miss her already.

But such is life across the great wide expanse of our wonderful nation and really there is nothing like that old cliché -- absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Because I am unable to format a rational thought to put it all together I will let the pictures do part of the talking for me this time.

Our first morning at the cottage, this little rascal was chomping away.




We went down to the beach to watch the huge thunder and lightning storm that was moving across the land somewhere down on The Cape and then out to sea. I took literally fifteen photos trying to get my third shot of lightning but to no avail. The clouds were cool but nothing was cooler than my company. W and Matt were naturals, like Abercrombie and Fitch models or something. Work it.







Mom, M & our nephews came down for an afternoon of fun in the sun and although the boys had never seen the ocean graze over their toes they were completely enthralled as I taught them about the undertow and why you should always face the waves as they break. They also loved to learn from W about the sandbar, what it was and how it formed. As I heard things only my Grampa used to say coming out of both of our mouths all day it really made me smile that we could pass it on to the next generation to learn about and respect the sea.




This is a pretty common sight, sorry about the screen.




Although the 4th is when the nation celebrates Independence Day, on our little mile long stretch of sand the real party happens on July 3rd every year. Since I can remember there have been bonfires and fireworks on the beach that night. Technically fireworks are not legal in Massachusetts but neither are bonfires on the beach yet a company hired by the town trucks in hundreds of pounds of unused palates and other wood to build thirty foot high teepee shaped piles that are primed and ready to burn at the end of each street. Never in all the times we have gone to this fiesta have there been that many people or that large a display. It was awesome.






Check out a video of the fireworks and fires.

On the 4th we cooked out with a bunch of family and then took a nice long walk down the beach. Then of course I had to pee because, well, that is just me so W and I went back to the house then back to the dunes to meet up with everyone. My legs are still feeling the burn. Or maybe that is from earlier that walk when I deluded myself into thinking that doing gymnastics on the beach after sixteen years was still a good idea.

Despite what I said earlier this was a week I will never forget.