He is Super Bad

Oh Man he is soooooo bad! It's beautiful out right now, gorgeous day, light sweater weather. Well with warm weather around here it brings out the motorcycles that are just sitting in their garages waiting for the Spring.

Shawn was supposed to give up his bike for transplant, and like a puking teenager who swears they'll never drink again if they just get through the night, he has re-negged on the bike.

Guess who just had to ride around the block. Yup. He is such an ass. He's still on weight restrictions, up to 15lbs, and he's out riding his 600+ lb bike. So I'm sitting out here on our deck, with my laptop perched on my lap and listening to the roar of his bike from somewhere down the road. I'm somewhere between worried, irritated, and excited.

Oh he's back and in one piece and smiling from ear to ear.

I have accepted that Shawn is not going to behave. He's not going to do the "smart" thing.

I can't really bring myself to be mad about it. I think about our friends that have done the right and safe thing all of their lives and didn't stop them from getting cancer, dying in a car accident, or being stolen away by Cystic Fibrosis. So maybe the lesson in that is to enjoy life.

Don't be a fucking shithead, but take some chances, push yourself a little bit, pursue the things that bring you joy.

Maybe I am just trying to rationalize away the fact that my husband is a nut and doesn't listen to me, but maybe it's o.k.

If you could have seen the smile on his face as he throttled that bike up to our drive, the look of pure joy and freedom plastered across his face, you'd forgive him too.

This time last year my husband was dying and now he's living. Amen to that.