Sippin' On a Forty...

So...at 10:30 p.m. this past Friday night I threw on a mini-skirted, bust-enhancing St. Pauli Girl outfit and walked through a party, which was stocked wall-to-wall with our very best friends and neighbors, all while toasting the occasion with a big beer stein filled with Buffalo Bill's Pumpkin Ale. And no, I wasn't three-sheets to the wind...and no, it was not a Halloween party...and no, none of the other party-goers were wearing a costume...just me. Oh, and did I mention that not only did I have my Heidi Klum meets Liesl Von Trapp crossed with Swiss Miss on crack moment and make a jack-hole of myself (my very favorite pastime next to being naughty, of course...and I guess in this case, I covered both of those, no?...) but I was also the party hostess....yeah, you heard me. Hmmmm...I can sense the wheels turning through the screen...you are thinking: "What the hell kind of shenanigans are they getting themselves into over yonder in little old Wyckoff, NJ...and how can I get my a** invited?!" I'm right, aren't I?

But you see, my friends...St. Pauli Girl just had to make an appearance...because we were all together celebrating Rob's surprise 40th birthday bash...better known as ROBtoberfest!!

Let's rewind, shall we?

A few months back I sat in Suse's kitchen late one July afternoon, our kids running around the yard whilst we noshed on some organic vanilla infused peach jam and Philadelphia cream cheese crackers...and we pondered ideas and thoughts and plans for marking the big 40th birthday milestones both Scott and Rob were hitting in '09....to party or not to party? And then what to do as far as food, theme, guest list, how many people, budget, where do you stop...? Do guys even get into that kind of thing? Can we just send them away on some kind of male-bonding weekend where they could fish or golf or sail or drink all day long...or all of the above? Of course...my own thoughts and desires and needs and personality absolutely come into play when planning a party or celebration for another person....so making the right calls can be challenging....especially for someone like me, who second only to attending parties, loves and adores planning parties...and jumping on any excuse at all to spend lots of money on food and booze and invitations and decorations and cakes and party favors. So, I thought, does it matter what Rob would want? I know better anyway...I mean, that's usually my motto...so I was off and running....

But before I could get focused on the event, there was Back to School and Indian Summer and the Flying Mueller Brothers and raising money for the Avon Walk and Timmy's birthday...and soon it was September 20th...a month out. I started frantically emailing sistergirlfriend, Lisa and the other Beard Sister, my bestie, Suse, with crazy last minute thoughts and plans and ideas. I considered a grown up tailgate party with kegs of Bud and nachos and wings and a big giant sub on the driveway (so white trashy...perfect!)....and I looked into the Big City bar party at thousands of dollars for two hours of cocktails....or maybe we would do a chic dinner in a private room in some great restaurant with a hot young up and coming chef...or should I forget this surprise sh*t and just tell him all about it and have a dinner party here at home...or should I still try to trick him and host it at Indian Trail Club or my Mom and Dad's house...and still, what could I do to make it different and special and fitting?? And then, out of nowhere it came to me...

Oktoberfest!!!!

I could see it all in my mind...pretzels and beer and the fiery Fall foliage...love it! And so it was....though I renamed the centuries old tradition to make it all about Rob. I got Allison and Kevin onboard to host this crazy fete at their beautiful home over in Norwood, across Bergen County from Wyckoff, but a perfect surprise location. And they were all over it, like the true, supportive long-term BFFs they are...and I whipped together a guest list, old and new friends and family...and I called Wendy and Roger and he agreed to cater...and I ordered the invitations and out they went...I told Rob that Allison invited us to a dinner party the night of his birthday, which he totally bought....and so, the plan was set. Later Suse suggested I call our friend in town, Carrie T., whose business it is to deal in gift merchandise and logoed promotional items...and she ordered big glass beer steins that said "ROBtoberfest - Celebrating 40 years - October 23, 2009" across the front in forest green. And then I decided to charter a bus to drive our friends across the county to the party...and I ordered up a keg of Spaten Oktoberfest and cases upon cases of micro-brews and ales and assorted wines...And this was all done from the laptop in our living room...the same one Rob works from everyday. Keeping the surprise was most certainly a challenge, my friends...

So last Friday I left the house at 9 a.m., concocting some reason that I needed to use the Volvo instead of my little blue Jag...and I dodged Rob the entire day...I went to the salon and then I went to school to serve the kids Special Lunch and hit the Book Fair with Will's class...all killing time until 2 p.m. and my planned pick up of RJP, who had been roped into hauling the keg and the cases upon cases of micro-brews and ales and assorted wines over to Allison and Kevin's house. And as I am on my way over to get him, Gwen calls and asks if, as a goof, it is ok if she wears to the party a St. Pauli Girl outfit (which TJ later clarified is called a Bavarian dirndl...not lederhosen, which are those shorts/suspender things that Friedrich von Trapp was so find of...who knew...well, apparently everyone but me...)....and I am cracking up...love the idea...give Rob a little thrill on his big night, why not?

So RJP and I scurried about making sure the set up is complete, RJP carrying that keg all by himself from the car to the tented deck area...thank god he was there, because that party would have had to take place on the Volvo's hatch had he not been...so it would have been a grown up tailgate after all... And after Allison and I reviewed the party layout, the little areas around her house that she had created gathering places for guests (to which I said: "you know the Wyckoff posse is just going to head right for the keg, right?...")...and I inspected the personalized beer steins and tubs of pretzels and the stuffed cupcakes and chocolate dipped pretzels...And after I confirmed directions and bus guest list with Suse, who was graciously stepping in as party bus liaison/de facto Julie McCoy...And after Rob texted me curiously inquiring as to my whereabouts and I texted back "I just left Stacey's hostess party..." which is a BS lie I pulled out of the sky at that very moment....and he texts: "did I know you were going there?" and I wrote back: "I forgot too!"....and he dropped it. After all that...we headed back home...it was 4:30...3 hours out.

So flash forward to 7 p.m., Rob is ready to go, the kids are off with my Dad and I am still sitting on the bed, freshly showered but lounging in front of TiVo and the "Restaurant Wars" episode of Top Chef, reading texts from Suse updating me on the bus location...they were on their way...So then, and only then, do I start tearing my closet apart for some kind of appropriate party outfit...and I frantically yell down to Rob to grab a bottle of wine to bring to the dinner party because "I was supposed to make an appetizer and I forgot..." Right there should have clued him into the ruse, because I would never ever show up empty handed to a party...and I would never ever forget to cook something for someone else...please. But he was distracted and went along with it all....At 7:35 I descend the stairs in a black cashmere short sleeved turtleneck, black wool mini skirt and black riding boots, my fuchsia pashmina knotted around my shoulders....After a little lip gloss application, we hop in the little blue Jag and take off.

So in the meantime, the little shuttle bus has dropped off our friends...the others arrive by car from all points of the tri-state (Rob's college roommate, Tom, and his wife, Jesse, whom I adore, get the award for furthest flung, having arrived from Kinderhook, NY -- way up in Columbia County...)...and Allison is handing out ROBtoberfest beer steins and taking coats and staging guests for the Big Surprise. And I am calling her, leaving a false voicemail giving some stupid fake excuse about not bringing an appetizer...and then I am texting Suse -- We are 10 minutes away...We are around the corner... And Rob is like: "Will you just drive? Who the hell are you texting?" Yike! And as we pull up he totally sees the tented deck...but he says nothing...but I do see him taking note of the cars parked on the street...whatever, at this point, I feel I have executed my surprise party duties formidably. And we ring the doorbell and they are all standing there with their beer steins cheering and clapping...and he is now the center of attention...and I slipped off to the side, out of the crowd and the waitress brought me a beer stein filled with Spaten Oktoberfest...the night had begun.

And of course it was a great night...the food was amazing and delicious (thank you, Roger....)...and the beer and the pretzels with mustard were a hit...and forget about the chocolate dipped pretzels and the mini-cupcakes, we were all over them...and the music, provided by ADP and her traveling iPod was, as always, a fine backdrop. It was like sensory overload, of course...with the conglomeration of these great hometown friends juxtaposed with faces from our history before we were married and had children...before we came even close to hitting 40 (I am still 3 years out, so, you know...we have time to plan that event...what? It's true...). We had Rob's sister and brother and his brother-in-law...and his best friend, Dave, Ellie's godfather...and Dave's sister and Rob's former love interest, Claudine, who was dressed in the world's most delicious F-me shoes...And my dear almost little sister, Alessa was there with Billy, and we got to enjoy some grown up time together. And you know, Casey and Marty made the scene...and they always kick the party up a few notches...they are both hilarious (Marty of course embarrassing Allison in front of the group with his favorite story about this dinner party he and Casey had one night where Allison ate a wheel of brie and I got so drunk I poured a bottle of red wine all over the tablecloth...this was after Marty said the most hilarious version of grace in history). Anyway...Marty ended up hanging with Jeff, husband of sistergirlfriend, Lisa...talking music most certainly...and oddly enough, I was told later that when Marty walked in, he yelled across the room to Pina's husband, Paul, with whom he dined on business only 10 days before..neither having any idea of the Anderson connection...we are like the plague...spread deep and wide. And wouldn't you know it...HG was there with Pugs of course, and she also knew Pina's Paul...

I barely saw Rob all night...he and the guys, of course, were out by the keg...and we ladies were congregating in the kitchen around the food, chit chatting and telling stories and just having the best time. I stood with Sam and Lisa H. and Gwen (who was wearing chic jeans and 5-inch heels...St. Pauli Girl outfit stored in a bag for later...) and we ate up a tray of those chocolate pretzels with our pumpkin ale...and we crowed and laughed at the latest gossipy happenings around town. Sam marveled at the always fabulous Tom and David and their effortless chicness...you know, we need them to raise the elegance factor at these things...and do they ever. So then Joe and Mike M. confiscated my camera for a while, bringing it back filled with photos of them and all the other guys mocking my signature blog photo pose -- turned to the side, chin down, neck twisted, hair propped...you all know it. And later Wendy told me that she was having so much fun...even though we missed Kathy and Mark...and Amber and Steve...and the Bonzy's were out enjoying a little Jersey Boys, so they were missed as well. But I said to Wendy: "We always have a great time together, no matter what we do...we have such a fun group of friends..." This is the same speech we say to one another after every social gathering...who knew after high school and college and working, that you would still have room to open yourself up to so many new friends...our neighbors...the parents of our kids' friends. And that we all enjoy one another and we celebrate that as much as we can is a bonus. We are so lucky.

So then...I think I was just strolling towards the ladies room when Suse poked her head around the corner, her little twisted and evil grin apparent...and I saw that she was standing with Gwen, who was holding her St. Pauli Girl outfit (ok, the dirndl...) and they say: "You should really be the one to wear this thing...." And usually I would put up a fight...I am extra Catholically uncomfortable with sporting any form of slut-wear...even as a lark...but somehow this seemed comical to me, something I needed photos of -- me in a sexy little form-fitting dirndl. So somehow, these two best friends of mine (or maybe not...???) convinced me to squeeze my a** into this thing and then walk around the back of the house and up through the tented deck, where 90% of the men at the party had congregated...and twist my arm...anything for a laugh.

So there I go, with this skirt so small, I literally felt the cold air swirling around my bum, wondering if said bum is peeking out from under the hem....and I am breaking through the tent opening, mugs of beer in hand...and the place went wild!!! And I am laughing and thinking this is hilarious and all... and about a minute in, the flashbulbs popping in my face, the guys whooping and cheering...I look over at Rob and he is just giving me that bemused smile...like, What the hell? Who are you and what have you done with Suz?? And I started to get my wits about myself...WTF? How could I let Gwen and Suse talk me into this? So I make my escape, skipping on through the sliding door, only to catch the eye of the rest of the party-goers, male and female, inside the house....And it is another wild reaction...and I am laughing at my own idiocy...and I am taking pictures and fielding requests for the wives to borrow the outfit one night...and I laughed with ADP and CDP suggesting they could take on a little Captain von Trapp/Fraulein Maria role-play...you know, the whistle, the pinecone...throw in Christopher Plummer circa '64 and I am along for the ride myself...why not? Ok...so maybe it was silly and ridiculous...but I received a few compliments, so maybe this Germanic fraulein trollop does live deep inside my psyche somewhere. Still...I ran upstairs and tore that thing off shortly thereafter...

And so...the party began to break up around 11:45...the shuttle bus having arrived for the return trip to Wyckoff...and of course, that is when Sandy and Mary and Sandy's high school buddy showed up, having come from a Bergen Catholic fundraiser that Sandy was MC'ing....Ok, no problem whatsoever...we hung for another hour with that posse...me showing them the pics of my turn as dirndl wearing beer wench...and a couple of the stragglers hanging on until the keg o' Spaten was kicked. We kissed the rest of the gang goodbye just as I fielded a text from Suse saying that the men on the shuttle bus had embarked on an epic fued over the greatest rock bands of all time...and somehow The Hooters were among the suggested candidates...and somehow every man on the bus chimed in on their own group rendition of "And We Danced." But...I heard later from Lisa H. that Scott stood up at one point and put the great bands argument to rest with this loud declaration: "AND I WILL SAY IT TO MY DYING DAY...Rush is better than The Rolling Stones!" This all taking place as my big sis, Cathleen, dozed on one of the bus seats... I knew that shuttle bus was a great idea...

And so...now the next 40 start for Rob...great things ahead...and what better way to welcome in another decade than to be showered with attention...plied with beer...filled with yummy food...and surrounded by people you love.

So take notes, my friends....like I said I have another 3 years until I hit the big 4-0...but someone can get to work on pulling off a little surprise holiday/seasonal themed party, right? You know, tag onto one of those March holidays...um...how about SuzAshWednesday...or maybe SuzLent...yeah...those both kind of suck...no meat, no vices, no drinking, too much church and not nearly enough fun....that's more like AntiSuz. Hmmm...Oh wait...I've got it....SuzPatricksDay!! Beers and parades and lots of fist fights and vomiting in the streets...delish! And the party won't be complete without one of you guys marching through the joint all dressed in a some naughty little kilt, carrying bagpipes just for me...you know, bring it all full circle...keep the milestone birthday tradition alive...

xoxoxo

Suz

To Amber at this difficult moment in time...sending you all my love this week, this month, this year and always...xoxo

Photos

1: Showing off the assets...and the a**...in my brand new dirndl...

2: Matthew and Tim innocently play while Suse and I plot milestone celebrations...

3: My dream 40th Birthday tailgate party...look, those guys took Scott's cornhole game!
4: Pretzels and beer...the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast...well, in my house at least...

5: Killer ROBtoberfest beer stein...as displayed with grace and style by moi...

6: A selection of the Wyckoff posse, stopping briefly upon beelining for the keg...(left to right) Charlie, Teri, Ann, Joe, Tim and Susan M.

7: Brian, Joe, Freddy and Scott, staking out their spot up front for the Big Surprise...

8: Barry and his harem (left to right) Joanne, Kerry, ADP, Robyn and Kim...and they are drinking Cabernet out of beer mugs, by the way...tres chic here in New Jersey...

9: Casey and Allison, my dear beloved friends for 25 and 30 years, respectively...xo

10: Now it's Freddy with a harem...(left to right) Teri, Wendy, Dana, Lisa, Nancy, Chris...and Pina is kneeling or squatting or falling down or something....

11: Family contingent...big sis Cath, Rob's brother Michael, sister Megan and brother-in-law Mike...

12: New BFFs, Jeff and Marty...solving all the world's problems...

13: Pugs, David, Tom and HG...NYC in the hizzouse!

14: Me, Gwen and the Beard Sisters...pre-dirndl conspiracy...

15: Mike, Joe and Tim attempting my trademarked signature pose...needs a little work, boys....

16: Dear friends and neighbors...Annie, Pina, Suse, me, Wendy, Dana and Teri...can't get enough of each other...

17: The Beard Sisters loving every minute of my St. Pauli Girl parade through the party...who wouldn't??

18: Me as St. Pauli Girl...I think my bum really was exposed because Mike and Kev's eyes are so totally downswept...sorry boys!

19: ADP and her red wine-filled beer stein...trying her best to snag that hot dirndl from my clutches...

20: Scott, Sandy and RJP drain the keg...and then begin an epic battle over the musical stylings and artistic contributions of The Monkees and The Partridge Family...

21: The Birthday Boy finally poses and closes the night with Sandy, Mary, Sandy's buddy and Joe....

See you all at SuzPatricksDay!

And I Would Walk 500 More...

I was seriously afraid to sit down and take part in the foot massaging station, even though my feet were screaming at me…totally pissed and rebelling with all their might. But if I sat in one of those comfy chairs with the electronic back massager contraption…would I ever get up? I decided to take my chances…and I ended up being one of the lucky ones, because I got to sit next to my bestie, Lisa, of the Beard Sisters…some of our teammates were scattered about, next to people they didn’t know…in fact, Wendy ended up seated right next to my sister-in-law, Megan…remember her? I hadn’t seen her once since those first two miles and then there she was, right next to Wendy in the foot massage station. But Wendy was lucky…PJ had asked the girl who ended up next to Lisa if she could have that seat so she would be with her teammates, and the girl practically bit her head off…guess all that “We did it!” goodwill had skipped over that b*tch…PJ was a little stunned, but moved on…

And so it was…Lisa and I chit chatted a little and Megan came over to say goodbye…and I will say, Megan and Mary and Kerri and Sam, who are all marathoners and/or triathletes, each said that they could not believe how hard it was to walk 26 miles, and how banged up they felt…so I felt a little less guilty and slothful than I might have when Lisa and I finally rose from those chairs after 15 minutes of massage and electronic heat and could barely move my legs to carry me out of the tent…I looked like a 90 year old woman with a prosthetic leg. Had a feeling the sit-down would come back to haunt me…how the hell was I supposed to lay in bed all night and still be able to get up and walk the next morning?

Somehow it was Suse who was able to move about most readily, Lisa and I depending fully on her relative dexterity…she took on big sis role to me in addition to her actual sister and had already talked to Mary and Sam and Helen who were headed to The Shoreham in advance of us, and she found the rest of our team so we could all say goodbye, and then she went to the Info booth and got the Walk route for the next morning and then found out where the buses taking us back to Manhattan were parked. So as Lisa and I limped along behind her on way to the shuttle buses, Lisa told me she felt nauseous…and I looked at her and she was truly ashen…with white lips…in fact, her brown eyeliner, probably applied 12 hours earlier, stood out…almost cartoonish…jumping off her face at me. So I called out to Suse with a lame: “Your sister is going to get sick…” And thankfully, as she reached us…the moment had passed…but Lisa still looked like a pale white ghost as we took our seats on the shuttle bus, in the way back, right next to the bathroom…you know, just in case....

On the way back to Manhattan we talked of cheeseburgers and beer and room service…long hot baths and massages…soft downy pillows and warm cozy blankets. We hoped Mary would have all of the above waiting for us upon return…only a few minutes now….

And then the bus stopped on Lex, near some side entrance to Grand Central Station…and it took us more than a few minutes to rise from our seats and limp down that narrow bus aisle and down those steps onto the sidewalk, where they dumped us for good. So then we stood there, for 20 minutes, trying to hail a cab….no dice…just so not happening…and we are getting so discouraged…thoughts of warm baths and cheeseburgers slipping away. We start inching back up Lex thinking we might catch one on the cross streets…but there were all these people hailing cabs too…and they could move and run so they had the upper hand on us…we three weak little ladies, Suse the only one strong and useful enough to even attempt the process…again, we became fully dependent upon her.

So then one of those car service Lincoln Town Cars in between jobs drives up and asks us if we need a ride…and we know you are not supposed to get into those cars…we know that it is illegal…but we didn’t f&%$ing care…getting into that backseat was the fastest I had moved all day. We are at 46th and Lex and we tell him that we are going to 55th between Fifth and Sixth…and he says: “$20 plus tip…” And though on a normal day with no injuries, we could walk this route for free in 12 minutes tops, we jump on the deal and off we go. So our driver Hector or Miguel or Jose is a nice fellow and introduces himself and as we scoot up 45th Street, heading West, he tells us that Sixth Avenue was closed for a street festival. So I think to myself, so what? You will make a right onto Madison and a left onto 55th and we will be home free…But, stupidly, in a misguided bulls**t attempt at politeness, I do not verbalize this notion…I know, not like me but you see, a few weeks ago there was this mean cabbie who snapped at me, so I was a little gun shy…and wouldn’t you know it…the dude screams through the light at 45th and Madison to my utter amazement…sonofab*tch!!! And there we are, stuck in the vortex of hell…can’t turn up Sixth because of that fair, right? So instead, we have to go all the way to Eighth, through Times Square on a Saturday night….I am seeing red, but so exhausted too…and pissed at myself…

“Wait, wait, wait…” was all I could manage…

And Hector/Miguel/Jose goes -- now remember, all we want is a bed and some room service and some cushy blankets -- and he goes: “Oh, whoops…I should have taken Madison…sorry…don’t hate me…”

Hate you? I am going to f&%$ing kill you! I swear…this rivaled Manhattan Bridge for the most frustrating moment of the day. So we sat there in angry silence as it took this guy 30 minutes to get us from 45th Street to 55th Street…all the while he chit chatted in Spanish on his cell phone as tourists and daytrippers darted in and out of traffic…if my feet were working, I would have jumped out at a light…but alas…I was an invalid…and the Beard Sisters were now both ashen and nauseous. F&%$ing great! When we finally were dropped off sort of in front of The Shoreham, we threw a $20 bill and two singles at him (nice tip, right??)…and limped inside…directly to the elevator and up to room 305…where Mary awaited us…

And as we dropped our belongings and made deals on shower schedule and ordered up some room service, peppy Mary said she had bathed and was enjoying a glass of wine...and as we listed our complaints and showed our war wounds and swollen joints and ragged tootsies to the group, it became clear that there would be no girlie slumber partying, no fantasy pillow fights starring me, Mary and the Beard Sisters in our little nighties...sorry boys, I know you were hoping...No, maybe next time...instead, as Lisa, Suse and myself each emerged from the shower, exhaustion gripping our bodies, some odd little rash on Lisa's ankle and doubt shaking my confidence for my chances to continue on this journey tomorrow...I swear, in that shower I wept and told myself that I had to face facts, I was never going to make it another 13 miles in less than 10 hours out...I came out of the shower concerned and a little quiet...but Mary read me and she knew right away that she had to put the wine glass down and become nursemaid...And this is when room 305 thusly transformed into the Infir-Mary....

Suse -- whom I had teased when she told me she packed her electronic foot bath -- plugged that sucker in and poured about 3 pounds of the 10 pound bag of Epsom salt that she also brought along. How could I have ever giggled at her preparedness? Lisa and I laid down and Mary went to work performing surgery on our feet...I will leave the gory details out so you foot fetishists out there don't explode, but let's just say that the Beard Sisters were beyond genius in packing that needle and thread...who knew? And then, as the sliders we ordered from room service arrived (I took one bite before I gave up...one...), Mary examined my knee and ankle, the Aleve having worn off long ago, and determined that they were most likely sprained. And in my mind I am thinking of my Dad and Rob who have both endured knee replacements...and I am silently screaming at myself for walking 18 miles further after knowing I was injured...but I just could never have stopped...how could I? So Mary calls room service for more ice, which the guy brought up with the extra Heinz ketchup (we had the Beards of Pittsburgh with us, you see...)...and she elevated my knee and ankle and packed ziploc bags with ice cubes and covered my joints in them while I popped another Aleve. And I fell asleep that way. It was 10:15 p.m.

At 3 a.m. I woke and saw Lisa standing outside the bathroom...and I was wide awake in a millisecond and I needed to know right away: "How do your feet feel?" I asked. And she said: "They are actually fine...I feel ok." And I realized that my leg felt ok too... Neither one of us spoke again...and we fell asleep until the alarm rang at 7 a.m. I sat up in bed and swung my feet around to stand....

And dammit if my sprained leg and blistered feet and creaky joints weren't almost perfectly pain-free and unswollen and sort of flexible and ready to rock...and so...we dressed and readied and stretched and began day two.... I was secretly shocked...night before at 10 p.m., my prediction would have been all day Sunday in the ER...and here I was. And again, I just kept thinking of Kathy...I wasn't missing this for anything...so thrilled I didn't have to. And I remembered my grandmother...and I remembered how it was her spirit for sure that pushed me those last 2 miles...and I was sure it was her energy that made me ready and able to do it again. And off we went...back to East 84th and York Avenue, my family's street, and the start point for Day 2.

So the Jugheads were scattered about the route at different points...I started with the Shoreham posse -- the Beard Sisters, Mary, Helen and Sam...Suse on the phone determining the location of our teammates...and as we walked I realized that if I stopped at all...even for a minute or two, I was never going to make it to the end. And I do not know, maybe it was my grandmother again but at about 109th Street I clicked into high gear, put my head down and busted into a pace that took me to the head of the Jughead pack, Mary and Sam and Kim and Helen alongside me. And I wasn't in anyway trying to be anti-social...I could never be...but I just knew if I lollygagged or strolled my feet would never take me. And so...I barely spoke from Morningside Park all the way to Columbus Avenue and 77th when we all finally caught up for lunch...and I didn't want to stay there at this stop, but we waited for the whole group to catch up again before moving forward...and soon we were en route again...and soon I was silent and determined again, behind a couple from Bermuda who were blowing a kazoo all the way down Central Park West and into Midtown...and Sam and I were side by side, joined by Betsy and Ellen and Jen and Jessica, Mary up ahead a little as we passed 1185 Avenue of the Americas, my office...(back at work with Dad, another story...) and past Bryant Park where I was engaged and where I watched movies with Ellie this summer...and past Macy's and Herald Square where this woman wearing one of those "Save Second Base" buttons nearly stepped in front of a bus, and the Avon volunteer, this dude in leather chaps and muttonchops, said: "Hey lady, watch yourself...forget saving second base, you're going to lose homeplate too...and nobody wants that..." Sam and Betsy and I thought that was hysterical, the little double entrendre...yeah, we don't want to lose either of those. And as we hit Madison Square Park and got stuck behind this group of Euros shopping at the street fair, I grabbed Sam's wrist and was pushed passed them...because I knew that Union Square -- our final rest stop before the finish -- was not far beyond us. And I realized that I had not stopped at one rest stop or snack station or anything other than lunch since Harlem.

At Union Square some of the girls hit the potties and I stood waiting...and Chris and Susan and Nancy showed up and said the gang wasn't far behind...but as soon as Sam emerged, I grabbed her and said that I could not wait...I had to keep going...I waved to Chris and said: "I have to keep moving..." And we realized as we caught up with Mary and the YMCA posse and headed across 17th Street that we only had two miles to go from there.... At Tenth Avenue we found Dana who had busted ahead of Chris and Susan and Nance because her knee had become a major handicap....we only talked with her for a few minutes before we moved forward again. But as we rounded the bend passing Chelsea Piers, Sam and Mary just pulled out ahead and out of my reach....and somehow the YMCA posse lagged behind me...and I knew I had to get to 45th Street...and there I was at 23rd...and I was alone. I realized I had not seen the Beard Sisters or Kathy or Wendy or Teri or PJ or Kerri, my 12th Street Ale House sisters, since lunchtime...since mile 6. And I missed them at that moment...so I put my head down and said "only 20 more blocks to go" over and over again....and somehow that mantra carried me the rest of the way....

And about two blocks before the Finish Line I heard a familiar voice calling me: "Suz! Suz!...wait here with us!" And it was Mary and Sam...and they stood there with Mr. and Mrs. Rail, Kathy and Kerri's mom and dad...and they were there to cheer us on as we crossed the Finish Line. And Mary told me that we would wait here for the rest of the Jugheads so that we could cross together, as a team. Exactly as it should be...as we had all always meant for it to be...

And soon the YMCA posse was upon us, and ADP and Jodi and Kim came back over to find us...and I texted Suse who told me the rest of the group was only 4 blocks away, on 39th Street. And soon we could see them and we all cheered and clapped and hugged and Kathy kissed her mom and dad...and we all regrouped and some of us held hands and there were a few tears....and as we crossed the Finish Line together, Margaret and Jill were there cheering us on with their signs and happy support...again...giving us all high fives as we passed. Also waiting for us were some of the families, and friends from home...Kerry and Kelli and Jean from our church group were there handing out roses and taking pictures of us as we celebrated.

We did it.

Thirty-nine miles on broken knees, busted feet, stiff joints, nourished by crackers and Goldfish and SunChips and water...and one of us, only 3 days out from her treatment, the strongest of all... Twenty-three women, moms and wives and daughters and sisters...mostly we were sisters...we raised over $61,000 for breast cancer research and all we had to do was walk 39 miles with one another....

I wouldn't trade one second of it...I would walk over that Manhattan Bridge 10 times over risking my life against crazy bikers and determined Hasidic men and hallucination...I would quasi-jog/power walk up York Avenue against time and red lights and that sweep van...I would cry and hurt and lay in bed with my friends all wrapped in ice packs...damn, I would even take 30 minutes to go 10 blocks in a cab through Times Square all over again. This was an amazing experience...

And, believe it or not, we are already planning the return.... Jugheads 2010.

xoxoxoxo

Photos

1. Lisa and me applying a little electronic heat at the end of Day 1...somehow we picked our a**es up out of those seats only minutes later...

2. Kerri and Suse and a bunch of women we have never met taking in the foot massage station...

3. Lisa and I hanging onto one another as Suse leads us to the bus...seriously, how many shades of white separate us...I'd say she's Linen and I am Clotted Cream...

4. Our actual Shoreham Hotel beds...awaiting our arrival with their cushy pillows and soft sheets...

5. Illegal car service/Lincoln Town Car from hell...Hector/Miguel/Jose is lucky he didn't end up in the trunk...

6. Vortex of traffic/tourist/daytripping hell....

7. Me and my Shoreham roommates, Lisa, Suse and Mary, pre-Walk...much prettier and pulled together that Friday night, just before our fantasy pillow fight....

8. My tootsies in happier times...lavishing the sands of Longboat Key this past August...

9. The Beard Sisters and I...my walking partners, besties and 12th Street Ale House sisters...

10. Mary, Helen and Sam...the rest of The Shoreham posse, my Day 2 buddies....

11. Walking along, not stopping...

12. The Rail Sisters with Mom and Dad just before finishing....

13. The Jugheads cross the Finish Line...

14. Kathy and I celebrate the Finish...

15. The Jughead sisterhood...only 356 days until next year!!! Yes, yes...I am aware that we are insane...what else is new??

PS Thirteen years ago today Rob and I were married in the middle of a Nor'easter that shut down the entire Northeast...we always have to make a splash...A memorable and happy day...xo

So, Up On Your Feet...

I know… I can’t stand “To Be Continued” either… I totally remember being like 10 or whatever and watching a very special episode of One Day at a Time on some weekend night, my parents out, RJ and I all alone in that big old house on Mohawk Road in Franklin Lakes…and Julie/Mackenzie Phillips ran away or got caught drinking or smoking the herb or having sex (I could make a Papa John joke here, but even I have standards...)…and I remember she slapped Bonnie Franklin across the face or Bonnie/Ms. Romano slapped Mackenzie and Barbara/Valerie Bertinelli began to bawl and that stalker/peeping Tom, Schneider was pretending to fix something and they all stared at one another dramatically as the big white chironed letters appeared below: To Be Continued…And RJ and I were so pissed! We had to wait a whole week to find out what Ms. Romano would do next…that blows! Well, at least you know that I was not holding back so that I could milk some extra ratings and advertising dollars during sweeps month…no…I just needed an intermission…and thus it continues…

Saturday, October 10th
Day 2, Part 2

The Manhattan Bridge…jeezuzgod…I don’t know what it was, truly…I mean, we were already hurting, you know…this was 15 miles in… though we were beginning to question the validity of the mileage…this felt a lot closer to 18 than 15…could these peppy Avon b*tches be lying to us? Messing with our minds? And even though we stopped after crossing into Brooklyn and re-hydrated and grabbed another pb&j on graham crackers and Lisa had passed out the Aleve, a little low-blood sugar malaise must have crept its way into our brains…because we all became quiet…and kind of confused. You know, most of our teammates were far enough ahead of us that we were unsure as to what point on the course they were...were they even ahead of us? Maybe they were actually behind us now…not a clue.

So it was still me and the Beard Sisters, Kathy, PJ, Kerri, Wendy and Teri at this point…and Mark’s sister, Kristen too…who I had only just learned at that point in the Walk, was 8 weeks pregnant!!!! I would have been lying down on the road at mile marker 1 at 8 weeks in, I must say…what a champ. So, as we stepped onto the bridge, there was an Avon Walk volunteer on a bicycle and all he said was: “Stay single file and to right, there are a lot of bikers on the bridge…” …and as the words left his lips, a guy on a bike zipped passed us, coming off the ramp at no less than 50 miles an hour.

And so began the urban angst/mind-f%$!/hallucinatory segment of our journey…

I remember the subway car on the overpass all loud and crashing, at 5 minute intervals…rattling down the tracks above our heads and rattling our nerves along the way. Each time it passed, I felt like it frayed my will and fortitude… On top of that there was a succession of sadistic bikers speeding by us and yelling, gruff and angry “Move aside! Move aside!” And we would jump out of the way, our hearts racing…each time it shook us even deeper. Then there were scores of Hasidic men behind us, walking the bridge…and they just pushed us aside to get by, we would almost be pressed up against the protective grating on the bridge to stay out of their reach. So if that doesn’t set the tone…

You know, we didn’t even bother trying to talk much…Lisa and I were side-by-side, Suse just ahead of us and PJ ahead of her, cell phone to her ear, though she did tell Suse, who tried asking her a question: “I’m in a bad way up here…” Kathy and Wendy and Teri had disappeared from sight, though for a while we could see Kath’s pink bandanna bouncing along…but they wanted to get off this bridge as much as we did…. Lisa tried to make me laugh as this big bearded Euro approached us by saying, “well at least Javier Bardem showed up…” And I so wanted to join in on the “spot the celeb twin” game…but my response was this: “I don’t know where I am…do you know where we are?...I don’t think we are ever going to get there…” And she told me afterwards that I also said: “I think Rob is coming to get me when we got off this bridge…”

But we descended…and soon we were back in Manhattan…on the Lower East Side at a rest stop next to some caged-in soccer field where a bunch of Brazilian guys were playing a game. And we sat for a minute and regained our wits…and the volunteers handed us each one of those little Dum Dum lollipops as we refilled our water bottles. And as I stood there, it seemed my knee wasn’t quite so tender (the Aleve, maybe??) and Teri and Lisa replaced their bandages and Kathy said: “Come on girls, let’s finish strong…” How could we not go on…and so we did…

And wouldn’t you know it…we were only half a mile from the Manhattan Bridge end-point when up in the distance, on the corner of Second Avenue and 1st Street at the Exxon station, we saw them….Margaret and Jill, cheering us on… "Go Jugheads! Go Jugheads!”…and they posted their traveling Team Jughead sign and we were blown away…I cried again, of course…because they were always there to keep us going…how amazing, I mean, these ladies weren’t even Kath’s own sisters…yet there they were every time we needed them most...

And then Suse said something to me that summed it all up…that this whole experience is about being a sister to the women in your life. On our team alone there were four sets of sisters, and seven of the women were sisters-in-law… we were sistergirlfriends, too, Team Jughead, loving and supporting one of our own…and then there were Margaret and Jill…like big sisters to all of us…truly, the big sister that would lay down in front of a bus for you…or drive around New York City stopping along your Walk route just so she could cheer you on.

Ok, I told myself…I can make it another 10 miles now. And I headed up Second Avenue with the Beard Sisters by my side.

“Hey Jugheads!” we heard from behind…and it was Kathy and the rest of our straggling posse and they had the most evil little grins on their faces…And Kathy says…

“What do you say at the next bar we see, we go in and slam a beer before we keep going…”

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Music to my rattled eardrums…this is the kind of festivity I can get behind… the one thing that could bring us back to top form.

So apparently our legs felt better all of a sudden, because we practically skipped the next few blocks until we came upon the 12th Street Ale House...and it was exactly what you might picture, given the name. The room was kind of dark and there was only one guy sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender…and they seemed kind of surprised to see us. Kerri asked the guy how much nine Coronas would cost and he told her $27…Happy Hour! This was perfect timing on so many levels…she ordered them up, limes and all…and we cheered and chugged and refreshed and rejuvenated. And the guy at the barstool shot photos of us as we toasted…Manhattan Bridge, a distant memory. Right before we headed out, only 15 minutes after entering, Kath said we should have a beer every three miles until we get to Randall’s Island…and I turned to Teri and Wendy and said: “I think we should have 10 beers here and then take a cab to Randall’s Island…”…which made us all crack up as though it was by far the funniest thing ever spoken…so maybe we were still a little punchy…

Let me tell you, my friends…I am no proponent of using booze to

solve your problems, but 12th Street Ale House and that communal Corona consumption will be forever in my Top 5 happiest beer moments in history (will tell you about the others another time…after a few beers…). So we headed back up Second Avenue with a spring in our step and an extra twinkle in our eyes…spirits so lifted. As we trudged forward I checked my watch…it was 4:30 p.m….we had less than two hours to get to Randall’s Island…

So let me fast forward past the next 60 blocks or so, beyond the moment that we met up with Margaret and Jill again, this time in front of a Greek Diner, our Jugheads sign hanging in the window…and beyond the 30 second debate we took up in the East 60’s over whether or not we should pound another beer at some place called O’Flaherty’s…and I won’t tell you about how we stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts/Baskin Robbins where the Beard Sisters and I partook of some Jamoca Almond Fudge and Pralines ‘n Cream and Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. What happened after that is the most important part of the day…the moment where this Jugheads posse showed what we were made of…

With ice cream dripping down my wrist I ran to catch up with the others who were collected on the corner of 71st and First…a bevy of Avon volunteers surrounding them. And when I arrive I hear them telling Kathy to get into their little shuttle van so they could drive us to Randall’s Island before darkness set in….What???? WTF? No way…we made it this far with the only Walker among the entire 5,000 who was still sporting signs of treatment…there was no way these b*tches were going to sweep us into their crappy little van.

“We aren’t getting in…” Kathy told them. Swiper, no swiping!

And against their will, the Avon volunteers in the sweep van had to let us go. It was 5:20 p.m….we had 55 minutes to be on the Randall’s Island Bridge or they would close us out. So…the quasi-jog/power walk foot race against time and traffic lights began up York Avenue. And we did it, our hearts racing, knees hurting, blisters bursting all the way to our turn off on East 84th Street.
East 84th Street and York Avenue…this is the street upon which my father grew up…this is where my grandmother lived…and she had succumbed to breast cancer before I was born. And as I pointed out #504 to the girls, there was a gust of wind – we all felt it – and I knew her spirit was there, cheering Team Jughead to the finish…All choked up, we sailed across the street to the East River Esplanade. It was 5:55…two more miles before the Randall’s Island bridge…we had to book it…so we did. Ok…well, we did lollygag for a minute as we discussed the Esplanade and how much it looked like the setting at which they shot the Justin Timberlake comedy classic: “D*** in a Box”…so we had to fall over laughing about that for a few minutes (Hanukkah? a d*** in a box…Kwanzaa? a d*** in a box…. ) Sorry, as I write I am just cracking up…as Will would say: “That just never gets unfunny…”

So…we book it…and we come around the bend and we are starting to sprint…and we reach the bridge at 6:14 and 59 seconds…no lie. And guess what? We still had another ¾ of a mile to walk before we hit the finish line for this leg…this 26 mile leg…and our feet were screaming and our legs were buckling…but we went for it…

And as we rounded the bend towards the finish, who do you think was there cheering? Margaret and Jill, our honorary big sisters…with signs in hand, giving out roses…Mary and Sam and Helen and Kim and ADP and Susan and Dana and Jodi all there too…and our teammates surrounded Kathy…all of us hugging and crying…We made it. The Jugheads all made it.

After our mini-celebration, we headed to the foot massage tent, exhaustion overtaking euphoria…and the only thing on my mind was....

Thirteen more miles tomorrow…Holy Mother of Jesus….

Coming soon…another very special episode...
Love you, Suz

PS Happy Birthday, TL....much love to you this weekend as you arrive at the "new 30"...xo

Photos

1. The traveling Team Jughead sign...the first sighting that morning at 5:45...

2. Peppy Helen, all chipper and fresh at mile 19 as we stragglers contemplate our options on the Manhattan Bridge....

3. Ok, it looks pretty in that shot...but notice the dumpster beneath...that's more like it....

4. My actual sightlines and vision as I cross the Manhattan Bridge...need beer...fast!

5. Kath with Margaret...Jughead cheering section and de facto Big Sis...

6. Kerri and Kathy...real sisters and BFF...

7. The Beard Sisters flank soul sister Helen and sisters-in-law Betsy and Ellen as we start out...

8. Susan, Wendy, Teri and Kath wrestle for the first beer two seconds in at 12th Street Ale House...

9. Jughead stragglers and 12 Street Ale House posse...viva Corona!

10. Me...looking beastly after 16 miles...but couldn't be happier....

11. Avon swiper/sweep bus...we gave them our bras, but not our bods...

12. Team Jughead greets us as we hit the finish line at Randall's Island, just under the gun...

13. Team Jughead after 26...rumpled, spent, euphoric...only 13 miles left...ouch....

Making Our Way Downtown...

There is so much to tell and convey and talk about, that I have to break this up into sections over a few days...because I know you, my friends...you love a diversion (who doesn't?) and then you will get behind in your work or laundry or Tivo-viewing and you'll blame me...so...

Let's just say this...I am 100% certain that I will not be able to squeeze my delicate little toes into those hot black-suede, 4-inch heeled, fuchsia-bowed Kate Spade slingbacks for at least another week...but if I learned nothing else this weekend at the Avon 2-day Walk for Breast Cancer, it was that my sacrifices pale in comparison...and blisters don't need chemo.

But I am getting ahead of myself...let's start at the beginning...a good place to start...

Day 1, Friday the 9th

On Friday afternoon, maybe an hour and a half out from our planned 2 p.m. departure, I was still unshowered and proud with my suitcase and clothes and makeup and shoes and new sneakers strewn about the bedroom as I sat in front of the computer emailing friends, checking Facebook and surfing dlisted.com or epicurious.com or tylerflorence.com (midday eye-candy...Mary told me this weekend that she met him once, and that he is an arrogant pr*ck...oh, even better!)...I know, am such a procrastinator...(another story...). So the doorbell chimes, penetrating my web surfing trance, reminding me that I still had tons of stuff to do...and there on the other side of the front door stands my girl, Kathy...our team inspiration and de facto Jughead leader...and she is there, taking time out of her day -- and for her this is one day after a treatment and one day before embarking on this 39 mile Walk. So...she is there to thank me for making her family dinner the night before....unbelievable, really, with all that is going on, she is remembering her manners too...speaks a lot to what Kathy is made of. Ok, so I will take a little credit for busting out a turkey dinner and sausage-leek stuffing and sweet potato puree and homemade cranberry sauce on a Wednesday afternoon (thankfully, sistergirlfriend Lisa handled the dessert...a lovely warm apple crisp...)...but I love to cook, I told Kathy over and over...this was fun for me, the endorphin rush when I make a meal for another person is so steady and strong, I can only imagine it must be like mainlining some illicit substance... So yes, I couldn't have been happier to do it...especially for her.

So Kath and I stand on the front steps and chit chat and talk about how excited we are for the weekend, to bond and spend time with great friends...and then Suse drives up and drops off my official "Jugheads" t-shirt that she had just picked up from Kathy minutes before, and then tells me she is off to an eyebrow wax...even though now, we are only an hour out from our planned departure time. So I remind her..."we said drinks at 4, so hop to it..." I bid farewell to both the girls and run upstairs to finish my weekend prep...and I do so, in record time. At 1:55 we pull out of the driveway, Rob as chauffeur, and swing around to grab Mary before we head back to retrieve Lisa and Suse (the Beard Sisters) at Suse's house. And leaving weepy kids, frazzled husbands and Suse's inlaws behind, we jammed the Volvo with 8 billion bags (only one belonging to me, I might add...) and were off. Of course Rob was secretly enjoying the girl-centric conversation on the way in...you know, how many pairs and what kind of undies did we pack...whether or not we waxed...should we hire a set of buff masseuses to soothe us post-Walk...? He couldn't have been happier to drop us at the door of The Shoreham on 55th...our home for the next 36 hours.

So we settle and unpack and ready for the night and, still waiting for Sam and Helen to make their appearance, we head out for cocktails...Suse and I enjoying a spiked apple cider laden with bourbon that made Suse whoop at the top of her lungs and my eyes to immediately fall into "hi, I'm baked" mode while the others sipped their chardonnay or cabernet or malbec or sauvignon blanc. And we all batted our eyes at the bartender and sampled the salty breadsticky/warm and cheesy bar snacks...and we promised him I would write all about it...a nice start to the weekend, right?

Well, even better...after finally catching up with Sam and Helen over at The Shoreham, we headed out to meet ADP and Jodi over at BLT Steak for the ceremonial weekend kickoff...8 Jugheads at one table in the dead center of the room...and we toasted and laughed and the chatting was non-stop. All eyes were upon us, this group of animated, peppy women...even in this bustling spot. We scarfed the goose liver pate and gruyere popovers to start and segued right into our steakhouse salads and Wagyu beef and short ribs and roasted halibut and crunchy hash browns and baby brussels sprouts and cheesy potato gratin...all washed down with the Atticus John Cabernet that I chose after the sommelier brought me a 3-wine blind tasting...and of course, this bottle was the most pricey of the three at $70...even in blind tastings I overspend. And then there was the sticky toffee pudding and the peanut butter chocolate mousse at the end...yum. So we had the best time, and none of us stopped talking or laughing at one another's stories...further bonding for the big undertaking that was ahead of us. A clean cut preppy man in a suit and tie came over from another table and offered to take a picture at the end of our meal, and though he had some trouble with my little digital point and shoot, he captured our exuberant delight to be there with one another...and when he was done, he said: "for you...from New Orleans to New York City..." and he bowed and walked off...a fitting end to our night. We hugged and kissed and said goodbye outside on 57th Street...promising to see each other, and the extended Jughead sisterhood, bright and early the next morning on 12th Avenue and 44th Street...at 5:45 a.m.....

Day 2, Saturday the 10th

I don't remember the alarm ringing, but I do remember Mary telling me that I talked in my sleep as I rose to partake of a shower at 5:15 that morning...and I admit I wondered if I shared anything incriminating as I slept, but she insisted I had not. And I remember the Beard Sisters packing tons of "what if" items in their backpacks...Band-aids, Aleve, Motrin, Flonase, Polysporin, Tums, ice packs, needle and thread...virtual walking first-aid kits. And Mary and I laughed that we were so completely unprepared for any snafu...both of us youngest children in families of 5...thank god Mrs. Beard raised dependable women and that they were our friends. So, all dressed in our pink Jugheads team shirts, Mary, the Beard Sisters and I met Helen and Sam in The Shoreham lobby and grabbed cabs to our meeting spot on 12th Avenue. And it was there that the Jugheads first congregated as a complete team...

So we hugged and cheered and posed and Kathy's best friend, PJ, brought along her sister, Margaret, and Margaret's wife, Jill...and they carried signs that morning that said "We Support Team Jughead"...and Margaret and Jill took pictures our team against that early morning sky, all of us happy and bright...26 miles ahead of us. But soon after we met, we began our Walk up the Westside, along the Hudson River. And this is the part of the Walk that is easy...I met Rob's sister, Megan...the same sister-in-law into whom I bumped at the JoBros concert back in July...and she walked with me and Sam those first two miles. And at each of those early rest stops, we Jugheads would re-group and find one another and snap some pictures and eat some pre-made pb&j on graham crackers and refill our water bottles...and on we walked...up the Westside, through Washington Heights and back down to Harlem and then in Riverside Park, where Margaret and Jill awaited us with cheers and signs...a welcome sight, a boost...so then it was the Upper Westside and then to Central Park where we stopped for the mass Walker lunch...this was 9 miles in and we all still felt great.

After lunch some of the group became separated from the rest of the pack as we headed passed Lincoln Center, down 9th Avenue through Hell's Kitchen...and it was at mile 13 where most of us met up again. This was our midway point, and as we rested and snacked and re-hydrated, an Avon Walk volunteer approached us and said: "Ladies, you have reached your mid-point, we have shuttles waiting to take you to Wellness Village if you are ending your Walk here." And we saw these giant buses and these Walkers getting on-board and we all looked at one another...and we looked at Kathy in her pink bandanna over her scalp...the only Walker we saw the entire weekend who was sporting the obvious signs of treatment...and she was there, still on the go...still walking...and not a one of us wanted to stop.

So we headed off to our second 13 miles...through Chelsea and down to the Village...and that is where we started to run into some trouble. The twisty Village streets, filled with tourists who were stopping in front of us, had us moving at a sluggish pace...and as the frustration set in I began to notice a burning in my right knee...and I ignored it. Along Bleecker Street, we began to lose some of the remaining group...Sam and Mary and Helen and Pina and Nancy and Chris and Dana and Susan M. were no longer in sight...Ellen and Betsy and the YMCA posse had been long gone, since mile 9...as had ADP and Jodi and Kim... and I was walking with my besties, the Beard Sisters, when we noticed in the window of a pizza place, that same "We Support Team Jughead" sign that Jill and Margaret had been carrying with them since we met this morning at 5:45 a.m....so we turned around and saw them across the street, on the southwest corner of Bleecker and MacDougal jumping and cheering and yelling: "Go Jugheads! Go!"....and soon Kathy and PJ and Kerri and Wendy and Teri and Kristen caught up with us at the pizza window and saw our cheering section and the sign...and our spirits were so lifted by their presence...I had tears dripping from my eyes, as they had been all day, so overwhelmed by the emotion of it all...this inexplicable teariness gripped me...but I began a full-on bawl as we walked further up Bleecker and found the other sign attached to a fire hydrant: "Kathy Rail Welch Your (sic) My Hero"...Jill and Margaret cheering us on some more...

We snaked through SoHo to Canal Street at a snail's pace...and our moods were iffy at best (even a little Duff Goldman/Ace of Cakes sighting only entertained us briefly...). It wasn't until we hit City Hall Plaza and mile 14 that my right knee and ankle had become a real problem...I was certain they were sprained, and Suse said she heard it pop while I walked. But the Beard Sisters were by my side, and I wasn't stopping...I didn't care what price I would pay later or what damage I was doing...we stayed the course and with Kathy, we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, snapping pics along the way, dodging more tourists...me walking like Frankenstein or some amputee on this knee...trying to descend the steps once we hit Brooklyn, Wendy and Teri laughing their a**es off at me...and it was hilarious even though it hurt. You know...because we were laughing with each other...all of us felt the burn...Teri had these killer blisters and Wendy said her legs were practically numb and Lisa's foot was throbbing, so she began handing out Aleve as we trudged ahead...entranced...we still had 10 miles to go.

But there was Kathy...looking amazing...walking like a champ...not one complaint.

And then we reached the Manhattan Bridge...who knew this b*stard stepchild of the New York City bridges would hold within a critical point for Team Jughead....

...To Be Continued....

Friday Photos

1: The Goddess Herself...

2: Kathy and me, against the morning sky, pre-Walk...

3: A little sausage-leek stuffing about to be mixed...

4: Mary, Lisa and me amongst a small percentage of our luggage, pre-check-in at The Shoreham....

5: Spicy delicious bourbon on an Autumn Friday...what could be more fitting?

6: Sam, Helen and ADP taking in the scene at BLT Steak...

7: ADP, wine and fork in hand...about to attack the table full of tasty fat-laden treats...

8: (standing) Mary, me, Suse & Lisa (The Beard Sisters); (seated) Sam, Helen, ADP & Jodi...the pre-Walk dinner feast...

Saturday Photos

9: Sam, me, Mary, Lisa & Suse...all smiles at 5:30 a.m....

10: The Jugheads unite at the starting line...39 miles ahead of us...

11: A sea of Jugheads...

12: Dana at Mile 13...with aching feet and a busted knee, she joined the rest of us for 13 more...

13: Kathy and PJ...this Bleecker Street pizza joint loves Jugheads...

14: Suse, me and Lisa on the Brooklyn Bridge...swollen knees, exhaustion setting in and forced, pained smiles...but the best day ever...

15: That pink bandanna...the Jughead beacon of hope...Kath crosses the Brooklyn Bridge....