This is an easy one to celebrate.

My beloved had a successful outpatient set of surgeries this morning and was declared clean of the cancer at the end of it and came home with me by suppertime. In honor of the newly mended end of his nose I present a nose-centric artwork:

I Smell a Happy Outcome

Second great thing about the day, though equally superb: my beloved has been my husband for lo, these fifteen years now, and I delight in the arrangement as much as I did in the first moment of it. Lucky, lucky me. Happy anniversary, R.

I celebrate the latter by posting a poem that, while ostensibly about dying peacefully, is really for me about joyful repose, the sweet state in which I find myself suspended in my marriage. Much preferable to dying at this point in my existence, to be sure, though if I kipped out in the next twenty seconds it could at least be legitimately said that I had lived a full and fantastic life. I’m fortunate in being one of those rare creatures content to go on living as long as I possibly can but aware always that what I’ve already had is more than many can ever hope for in quantity and quality of happy life episodes and an incredibly loving, supportive and cheering cloud of family and friends. Sign me out as the Richest Woman in the World. Sorry, Oprah and Queen Elizabeth and all of you other wannabes!