WIG NIGHT, WINS, & WHY I’M STILL ME

Wings, Wine, WIG NIGHT—A Three-Week Celebration of the Good Days

Last night was Wings, Wine, WIG NIGHT, and let me tell you, this concept has legs. I’ve decided it’s not just a one-off event—this needs to happen every three weeks, with a new theme each time. Because wigs? Not sustainable. Good days? Absolutely worth celebrating.

For those of you who weren’t there, don’t worry—I’m not pulling a how dare you. It was actually really nice and intimate, which meant I actually got to catch up with people instead of working the room like it was my wedding reception. So, no one ever has to feel pressure to come. If you’re reading this, you’re already showing up.

And if you do decide to come to the next one, just know: there’s no pressure to stay a certain amount of time. Last night was 4 to 6 PM, and I liked that. Will it stay at that time? Who knows. Might go earlier, might shift it around. But bottom line? This is just a bonus event for me to get out, have fun, and celebrate feeling good.

---

 What a Woman Wants (Before She Knows What She Actually Needs)

Before I started chemo, I thought I knew exactly what I needed. Spoiler alert: I did not.

I even wrote a blog about it, listing every possible way people could help me keep my home from looking like the aftermath of a Marvel battle—just with more unfolded laundry. When I wrote it, I was still me. I looked like myself. I felt like myself. I had five whole weeks before chemo even started, and during those five weeks, people were already acting like I was sick. And I wasn’t. Not yet. I was still moving, still strong, still rolling my eyes at the absurdity of it all.

I laid it all out—what I needed, what I didn’t need, and exactly how people could help without driving me insane. It was structured, sarcastic, and had just enough edge to make people laugh while getting the damn point across.

And then chemo started. And suddenly, I was sick.

Not because of cancer—because of the treatment. Chemo made me sick. Not my body. Not my disease. The very thing that’s supposed to save me is what’s actively wrecking me.

But here’s the irony.  That blog? It was the foundation for my Dream Team request. It’s what kickstarted the flood of support and, eventually, led to me posting on CaringBridge after I threw my hands up and told LC, “I’m out.”

Now that I’m in it, I see things a little differently.

One of my biggest fears before this all began was that I’d be stuck in a messy, chaotic house, too exhausted to fix it, drowning in clutter while also drowning in chemo. But guess what? My house is cleaner than it’s ever been. Why? Because when I have a good day, I don’t go out—I clean. I vacuum. I do laundry. I wipe things down like a woman possessed because, suddenly, this space is everything.

What I thought I’d need—structure, a sparkling house, an army of people making sure my home didn’t fall apart—isn’t actually the thing keeping me sane.

---

What I Really Need?

✔ People who see me.
✔ People who don’t treat me like I’m fragile.
✔ People who know I’m still me—even when I’m vacuuming instead of “resting.”
✔ People who sit with me, laugh with me, and let me pretend I have my shit together—even when I very much do not.

So yeah, I still love order. I still need control over what I can control. And I still believe that a clean house equals a clearer mind.

But I also know that the list I wrote back then? It was written from the perspective of a woman who thought she knew what was coming.

Now that I’m in it, I know better.

It’s not about the floors.
It’s not about the dishes.
It’s about not losing myself in all of this.

And if keeping my house together helps me do that? Then yeah, hand me the vacuum.

But for shits and giggles, here’s the original list I wrote before chemo. Feel free to mock

---

Now, About That Housekeeping Blog…

For Shits and Giggles

For those of you who want to see the original list—what I thought I was going to post, but absolutely do not need—here it is in all its glory.

The Blog I Wrote Before I Knew Better:  What a Woman with a Home, Husband, and Kids TRULY Needs During This Time

(A.K.A. The "Please Don't Make Me Live in Chaos" List)

1. Clean House, Clear Mind
✔ Beds Made: Make them look like beds, not abstract art installations. Bonus points if the pillows are fluffed and magazine-ready.
✔ Laundry Situation: Wash it. Dry it. Fold it. And actually put it away—because dumping it on top of the dryer doesn’t count.
✔ Floors: Vacuum. Sweep. Mop. No tumbleweeds of cat hair, no breadcrumbs from a week ago.
✔ Clutter-Free Zones: If it doesn’t have a home, it’s not my problem right now. Hide it from me forever.

2. Ambiance Is Everything
✔ Fresh Flowers: No need to know the difference between peonies and pansies, just keep something pretty and alive in a vase. (Unlike me on some days.)
✔ Clean Smell: Whether it’s actual cleanliness or Febreze covering everyone’s sins, my house needs to smell like heaven, not a middle school locker room.
✔ Couch Perfection: Pillows fluffed. Throw blanket folded like it’s auditioning for a Pottery Barn catalog.

3. Don’t Bring Chaos to My Sanctuary
❌ Toothpaste splatter in the sink
❌ Dishes left in the sink
❌ Shoes, coats, and socks left around like they pay rent

4. The Kitchen Rule
✔ If you eat something, clean it up.
✔ If you spill something, clean it up.
✔ If you walk into the kitchen for no reason other than to stare at the fridge, close the damn door and clean it up anyway.

5. Things I Won’t Apologize for Wanting
✔ A house that feels like me—clean, beautiful, functional, even if I’m not functioning at 100%.
✔ Order. Organization. Calm. These aren’t luxuries; they’re survival tools.
✔ The illusion of normalcy—because if my space is together, I can feel together.

6. Just Ask (But Not What You Think)
Don’t ask me what I need. Instead, ask:
🛑 Where’s the vacuum?
🛑 Do you want the mail shredded or filed? (You may want to talk to Chip about that one.)
🛑 How do you like your laundry folded? (Hint: neatly.)
🛑 Should I organize your spice cabinet alphabetically by size and brand? (Yes.)

7. The Big One: The Attic
Yes, I said it. If you’re feeling brave, grab a flashlight and go up there. Start small—like organizing Christmas decorations or throwing out mystery boxes labeled "Miscellaneous".

8. The Most Important Rule
If you’re showing up, bring your A-game and a sense of humor. I might lose my hair, but I’m not losing my wit.

✔ Pitch in.
✔ Make me laugh.
✔ And if you can fold a fitted sheet without cursing, you’re officially my hero.

---

Sun, Sand, & Sunscreen (For the First Time in My Life)

This afternoon, Zoe and I are off to Bal Harbour, Florida for a three-night reset at the Ritz-Carlton. A little sun, a little ocean breeze, a little vacation energy.

Before anyone even thinks about sending me worried messages (Should you be flying? Should you be in the sun? Should you be exposed to weather?), let me stop you right there:

✔ Yes, I will be wearing a mask on the plane. There and back.
✔ Yes, I have sunscreen. And not just any sunscreen—30 and 50 SPF. I know. Normally, I believe in the burn-first, tan-later philosophy. But this time? I’m actually playing it safe.

Meanwhile, Sam and Fran are heading to Winter Park, Colorado for Jake’s spring break ski trip, because someone in this family should still get to enjoy winter sports.

And speaking of skiing—Chip (who is incredibly generous, by the way) rented them a condo for the trip. Because, unfortunately, he is still benched from skiing after the Great Northern Lights Incident of 2024.

For those unfamiliar, this was a tragic, near-life-altering (not really) event that occurred last October when Chip, an otherwise athletic guy (not necessarily a good athlete, but an athlete nonetheless), suffered the kind of quad tendon rupture that happens in men over 50 who probably played basketball or sports once upon a time.

How did it happen?

Oh, just the classic "falling down two steps in the pitch dark while looking at his phone" situation.

No drinking was involved (that’s not true).

The result? Emergency surgery, a whole lot of rehab, and anther lost ski season. So, since he can’t ski, he did the next best thing—made sure his kids could. And that’s generosity worth acknowledging. (I may also have depleted most of the miles in his account for the Florida trip too).

---

Major Wins This Week

✔ Feeling good (which, let’s be honest, is about as rare as a quiet Target run). So when it happens, I milk it for all it’s worth. Errands? Lunch dates? Random adventures? Absolutely. If I’ve got the energy, I’m using it—because who knows when the next wave of “Nope, not today” is going to hit.

✔ Pilates people. I know, I know—I say this constantly. But it’s what I do, it’s what I love, and the people I train are some of my favorite humans.

✔ Continued generosity. The kindness does not stop, and I’m beyond grateful.

✔ Pam Foringer’s brilliant idea. Instead of bringing me

dinner, she suggested doing an early dinner out. Perfect. Zoe wasn’t around, Chip was out, and I was feeling good, so I went to Boston on Tuesday, got my wig hemmed (yes, hemmed), and rather than going home, we did a late lunch. It was exactly what I needed.

✔ Flowers from Sarah (from Leonard’s). Absolutely gorgeous, as always.

✔ Gift from Rebecca from the Cannes (next time take me). And let me tell you—the smell is perfect. I love a clean scent, and this is exactly that. Floral scents? Not my thing. But this? So clean, even if it came from flowers.

✔ Abby’s care package. But even more than that—her reminder that she is a professional organizer (which I knew, but forgot, and now have firmly committed to memory). ☝️If you saw my jokes about cleaning the attic and the boiler room, well… Abby, I’m taking you up on that. Done.

✔ Carol, with the funniest card ever. And because she’s clearly worried about chemo stealing my muscle tone (as if it hasn’t taken enough), she also sent me butt-lifting leggings. Chemo might be doing its best to break me down, but Carol is out here personally trying to defy gravity on my behalf.

✔ Meghan (aka MM), a true queen of chaos and love. She sent me a letter to my future self, a bottle of fuck cancer pills, some cancer-fighting magic stones, and homemade soda bread. Because apparently, my survival plan includes a combination of spiritual defense, medicinal warfare, and carbs—honestly, solid strategy.

---

The Challenge

Now that you’ve seen pre-chemo JJ vs. in-the-thick-of-it JJ, here’s my question:

What’s something you thought you’d need during a tough time but ended up realizing you actually didn’t?

Drop it in the comments, text me, or just show up and surprise me.

Because at the end of the day, this was never really about a clean house—it was about keeping my world from feeling like a mess.

And if you happen to have an extra pair of hands and a sense of humor, well… even better.