Sydney
Up & at 'em early again today. Feelin' good. Yesterday was a fun day, productive, everything went like it should. A well-oiled machine.
Was a kick to do Oprah's show. She's an amazing lady. I thought we did things big, but Jesus Christ. Apparently there's Big, then there's OPRAH-Big, ha ha.
Getting ready to head out for a run but first wanted to check in with Cate. Just wanted to hear her voice, to see how her day was going. Will call her for a little love & affection later, when she's home and ready to go to bed. She's having a crazy day, felt a little bad about bothering her at work. But it made my heart melt that she actually walked outside of wherever she was to take my call, and the first thing she said was "Hey Baby, I was hoping you'd call. I needed to hear your voice."
That woman can turn me to mush. And I'm not the least bit embarrassed to admit it.
We chatted a little bit, only about five minutes since she had to get back to fighting crime or whatever. Sometimes just talking about nothing -- the weather, how I slept, what she had for lunch -- is so wonderful I can hardly express it. Keeps me sane, her too. There are so few people in your life you can really and completely share yourself with. When you find that One it's such a comfort, such an amazing gift, that all you want to do is share everything with her, even the mundane bullshit. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, through the glamour and the unsexy boring crap, ha ha.
I reminded Cate I'll be home in less than a week. She giggled -- God, I love that little girlish giggle of hers -- and told me she's counting the hours too. She even put a countdown clock on her Blackberry, T-minus-whatever until Hubby's Home. That made me laugh. She's taking next week off so she'll be able to give me her undivided attention. Well, assuming there's no major catastrophe or crime wave and she gets called in to the office.
I know I'm gonna be upside-down for a week after I get there but I'm gonna spend every damned second I can with Cate, until I flat-out pass out from exhaustion. I told her so, that I was just looking forward to going out to the Jersey house and laying around with her for a few days. Cate kinda chuckled again, then informed me she has committed me to something in the City the day after I get back. She apologized and said she knew I'd be exhausted but it's something she knows I'll want to do.
Maria Cole called Cate this morning and asked if we could attend a last-minute charity thing they're throwing together at the Fifth Avenue store. It's for a group that provides outings for wounded soldiers, a cause near and dear to Cate's heart, so of course she said yes. Apparently there's going to be a group coming up from Walter Reed Hospital in DC, all vets recovering from amputations and other traumatic wounds. This volunteer group is bringing them and their families up to NYC to see the Christmas decorations and do some touristy stuff. The Plaza is giving them free rooms, they're going to see the tree at Rockefeller Center, Rockettes, the whole deal.
Ken decided to close the Rock store early for a private event, kind of a cocktail party/fundraiser thing. They're letting the vets come in and shop (for free, though they don't know it), and then attend the party which will be $1,000 a ticket, all of which goes to their program. How could we possibly pass that up? What a great idea and a fantastic cause.
Cate even offered me up as entertainment, ha ha. That's my wife, prostituting me out when I'm not even in the same hemisphere. Of course I don't mind in the least; I'll be happy to take my guitar and do a few numbers, even if my voice will sound like shit because I'll be all fucked-up timewise.
Though Cate usually doesn't enjoy the party/benefit scene, I know she'll love this one because of the cause. She'll be among her own kind, ha ha. My wife is so damned humble about her service to her country it almost breaks my heart. I wish I was half the human being she is sometimes.
Of course, it won't bother her greatly that this thing is being held at the KC flagship store, either. She may not particularly like to shop, but KC is one of Cate's few addictions. When I introduced her to Ken she was completely awed, like she was meeting a rock star. Never mind that she's MARRIED to one; apparently now I'm just chopped liver. But Ken, he's Mister Big Shot, ha ha. My wife is such a goof sometimes. At least she has good taste in fashion, when she actually dresses like a girl.
But I like her in her ratty old jeans and football jersey, her hair up in a ponytail. That's how I see her when I close my eyes and daydream. Well, except when she's naked.
Anyway, looks like we'll be spending pre-Christmas Eve party at KC, one week from today. Shit. Guess that means I better get a move on with my shopping. Got the kids taken care of, gonna just give Dorothea a gift certificate for that spa she likes. Everybody in the company's covered, Mom, Dad, brothers and their families...
But Cate. Still no damned idea. What do you give the woman who could buy anything she ever wanted, but doesn't because she's happy with what she has? Love her sensibility, but she's a complete pain in the ass when it comes to gift-giving. Plus I blew the Tiffany idea yesterday when I went ahead and sent her the "I'm Sorry" necklace. Fuck.
I better come up with something quick. Maybe I'll be inspired on my run this morning, when my brain starts to wake up a little more. Otherwise I'm gonna be that poor bastard roaming the streets on Christmas Eve, desperately searching for that last-minute gift and ending up with something ridiculous from the corner drugstore, ha ha.
Not that Cate would mind, as long as I was naked when I gave it to her. Heh heh.
1:30 pm
Sydney
Well, it's unofficially official. We're not in the R&RHOF this year. Wish I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not. All the political bullshit that goes with it. Can't say I disagree with the inductee list, though. Alice is finally getting his due, as is Waits. About damned time.
Also wish I could say I'm not disappointed. I am. But realistically I knew in my gut it wasn't gonna happen this year. We're too commercially successful to be taken seriously right now.
Like any of those fucking critics ever took us seriously.
Guess we can go ahead and release those April-May tour dates now, ha ha. No reason to keep induction week open.
A lot going on today. We have the casino show tonight, so at least I don't have to sit around my room or the bar and brood. Work to do. Will be some friends there too, so at least we'll all commiserate together.
On a positive note, the White House put out the official press release for the Commission. I'm sure there's plenty of snark going on from coast to coast about me being on that list, too: "What the fuck is a hair-band rocker doing on a Presidential Commission?" Well, more than most of you who sit there and snipe about it, fuckers. At least I'm trying to DO something, be part of the solution instead of sitting and bitching about the problem.
Okay, so maybe I'm a little more bitter than I want to admit.
Cate texted me to tell me she heard the news and she's sorry. She's still at work, about to wrap up, said she'll call me when she gets home.
I wish we were together. I could use her arms wrapped around me right now. Wish I could share my raving and sulking with somebody who understands, who won't judge or belittle me for my moment of humanity. Guess I'll have to settle for sitting here in my hotel room, staring at her picture on my iPhone while I scribble in my book.
Jess texted me too. "Sorry, Dad. Next year." Thanks, Buddy. Miss you too.
I don't even want to think about 2011 yet. I just want to get home to Jersey, to my family, to some time off. I want to play with my kids, talk to my daughter about graduation and college and (God Forbid) Brendan, take Jess to a game, play MarioKart with Jakey and Romey. I want to snuggle up with my wife under the Christmas tree and dance with her on New Year's Eve and whisk her away for our little escape. Just live and breathe and not worry about all the rest of this shit.
Next week can't come soon enough.
5:00 pm
Dressing Room, Sydney
My wife knows me so well it's scary.
So this afternoon I sat in my room brooding, staring at the wall, ignoring texts from Richie and Davey asking if I wanted to grab a bite with them before we headed out for the show. Told Matty to go the fuck away when he pounded on my door. Was in no mood to socialize. Just sat here, letting my Italian blood rise from a simmer to a slow boil over yet another snub.
Then Cate does her thing and completely takes me out of my mood. Even from halfway around the world she can take me from pissed-off to content in the blink of an eye. Well, maybe a little more than that, but she still gets me there.
First she texts. It's another photo like the one she sent me the other day, only this time in profile. Gorgeous shot, dark and sexy, a black Tak and a sleek body. This time it's a profile of my gorgeous wife fully nude, the curves of her breasts and hips and ass subtle in the shadows. I know those curves. Damn. When did she do that? How the hell did she get these shots?
Doesn't matter -- the pic is gorgeous and distracts me from my foul mood. I'm just ready to call her when I get another text. "Wait." is all it says. Just one word, but I know she's up to something, that she knows exactly what I'm doing and thinking. It's like she's watching me on a damned closed-circuit camera or something.
So I get up and make myself a drink, then slump back into my chair, waiting for the next text. Two swallows of Tequila Sunrise later, my phone rings. She makes me laugh with her first line -- "What are you wearing?" When I tell her shorts and a t-shirt, I like her response: "Take it off."
Holy shit. Not at all what I was expecting. But I sure as hell ain't gonna argue; I know better than to disobey my wife's commands. Good way to get my ass kicked. Besides, her telling me to get naked in my hotel room in the middle of the afternoon can only bode well for me, right? Unless she's in cahoots with Sambora again, anyway.
Thankfully she's not this time. I put her on speaker, per her instruction, then strip down. She's got that sexy, dirty rasp in her voice, that tigress purr that makes me hotter than July. She tells me to close the curtains. Obediently and with more than a little excitement, I do. She tells me to get out her scarf, the one I carry with me so I can smell her perfume, and get comfortable on the bed. Check. Scarf around my neck, propped up on the pillows, phone on the nightstand, hand on the disco-stick.... good to go.
Then my naughty minx of a wife proceeds to give me the dirtiest, most erotic phone sex I've ever had in my entire damned life. She was like a woman possessed, I swear. She got me to say things to her I didn't even know I knew HOW to say. I can be pretty fucking dirty, but today I raised the bar, for damned sure.
And Cate -- HELL. She was in complete control. I did every damned thing she commanded, without question or hesitation. And Holy FUCK was it good! I know it was good for her too... her moans and gasps and purrs and growls into the phone would have gotten me off all by themselves, let alone the... well... manipulations, I guess you would call them, she ordered me to do. Christ, I don't know where that side of my wife's personality came from, but I hope it comes back. Soon. Repeatedly.
Anyway, once I shot my wad and came back down to earth she texted me another photo, this one of her lying in our bed, all flushed and happy and relaxed, her hair swirling around her head on the pillow. She looked so beautiful it almost broke my heart. She asked me to send a pic of myself, lying in my bed, so I did. I didn't look anywhere close to as sexy as she did, but she humored me and insisted I looked gorgeous as ever.
Then she told me to tell her everything, all I was feeling. Just to let go and get it out. So I did. I laid there naked and poured out my soul. And she just listened, told me over and over again how she understands and how much she loves me and that my disappointment is justified, but that no matter what my family is always there for me. That I'm her Superman, and I always will be.
God, I love her so much. She gave me exactly what I needed, body and soul, from half a world away.
So we cuddled together in our separate beds and talked about spending our holiday break together, whispered a few more sweet nothings to each other, until finally she started to fade a little. I kissed her goodnight, told her for the thousandth time how much I loved her, and asked her to dream of me. "You know I will, I always do," she says.
Then I let it go. All the frustration, disappointment, anger... it ain't worth it. I'm a damned lucky man, with an amazing wife and a wonderful family and the best fucking job in the world. I'm gonna finish what I started here then go home and close out the best damned year of my life so far.
No time to wallow in self-pity. There's life to be lived.
Gotta go to work now.
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