addendum

I realise, by the way, that I've been doing a lot of sighing lately - verbally, at least.

It must be the pent-up frustration. Standing by the wall waiting for someone to bang a door into me doesn't seem to work for me. Maybe sighing will.

The new ambassador plentipotentiary...

Did I mention I love my job?

Getting paid to flirt with charming men in suits. Dashing, I believe is the appropriately Jane-Austen-esque term.

I notice he didn’t pour me a drink, though. It strikes me that a well-educated member of the British royalty really ought to pour a drink for a beautiful single young woman in need of entertainment.

Still, since Josh won’t take me to Hawaii, maybe Lord John will take me to England instead... Apparently there are plenty more royal, dashing young men over there.

A girl can dream... Meanwhile, back in the real world, I’ve got to be up in four hours to take orders barked by Josh so I guess I'd better sleep. Sigh.

the Leardership Breakfast, and deep, DEEP embarrasment...

Oh, my GOODNESS. So mortifying. Sooo mortifying.

How can a woman who is organised enough to sew her name into her underwear (which, apparently, is not normal...) be disorganised enough to leave her underwear in her pants?

Sigh. One day I will manage the sophisticated thing.

Still, at least they weren’t black and lacy. Saving those for when he’s not just fishing them out of an envelope... :) (Oops. Drifted to my happy place again.)

In Other News, Sam and Josh, hunter gatherers that they are, failed to make a fire. But it sure was fun watching them try. They crack me up. “That Sam Seaborn is so cute...” he asked me to say. Don’t think he quite realises how much power he wields over females, regardless of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and any other stan. None of us need to be told he’s cute. In fact if Josh doesn’t hurry up...

Am in a weird mood. Maybe it’s the wine I drank when I got home so I’d be able to see the funny side of this afternoon. Which has so far failed. Sigh. I’m going to sleep now. Tomorrow is another day... And it had better be less embarrassing.

I am, after all a capable woman. Of enormous value. Who deserves to be put on a stamp. Must remember that...

Noel

Christmas Eve at ER. Not exactly what I had in mind for our first Christmas together.

But that’s okay. Because he’s going to be okay.

I’ve never wanted to hug him as much as I did this evening. I’m so proud of him. A man of his intelligence, of his, well, let’s face it, his pride, owning up to what I can only imagine to be, well, feelings. Oh Josh. You did good. They should put you on a postage stamp.

I love you.

Did I mention that?

I can’t. I know I can’t.

Why, why, why was I not there at Rosslyn? I mean, I know why on a practical level, but deeper than that. I should have been by his side. I should have been with him. Protecting him somehow. Protecting him from these evil men and from these injuries and from these deep, deep internal wounds.

(He's not the only one with anger issues. How dare they do that to him?? God, where were you?)

Why was I not there?

Never again. I will always be there for him. From now on I will always be there. I guess that’s why I’m here now in this emergency room. Honestly, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Well, okay... no one else I’d rather be with. For tonight, that’s ER. For now, that’s in the office.
Afterwards......... well, yeah. But let’s not go there. It sets my pulse racing. And not in a good way.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

It is, in fact, a very good way. A very pleasant way. But not for now. Right thing, wrong time? Six years to go... Will he wait that long? Will I be strong enough to wait that long? In real life are there soulmates who end up together or is that just on bad TV shows?

Oh, get it together, would you, Donna? Get it together and focus on looking after your man. For tonight at least that’s what he can be. There he is, anyway. It’s time to wipe your eyes, and go. He needs you. Be strong.

He’s going to be okay. For now that’s all that matters.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

the Portland trip (well, not for me, sadly... just a date gone wrong despite beautiful dress!)

From now on, working late into the evening shall be considered preferable to going out on dates with arrogant lobbyists.

And the flute is coming out of the cupboard. Maybe there's a White House orchestra I can join or something. Though doubtless the men there will be the same ones I meet all the time anyway...

Wish Ainsley would be more civil. Some gal chat would not have gone amiss tonight. Neither, come to that, would some Haagen Dazs asnd a couple of glasses of wine.

Did I mention I wish she would dye her hair? We are clearly nothing like each other, but it wouldn't hurt for that to be made more obvious.

Anyway... tonight sucked. On many levels.

Well, very nearly sucked.

I'm keeping the dress.

Lame Duck Congress

Enormous value. Pah.

I’ll show him enormous value.

And it's surely to their credit...

So, what kind of day has it been?

Just another ordinary day at the office, I guess...

Ha! What's an ordinary day? Don't think I've seen one of those in a while.

It has, in fact, been a bit surreal, what with the key rings and the Gilbert and Sullivan and all.

And I gotta say, I'm not crazy about this Ainsley Hayes, even if she does sound like a hoot and I find it very entertaining watching Sam coming over all heroic.

Next thing, people will be saying she looks like me but with longer legs. And I'm not happy about that. Still, at least I have this going for me: cut me and I bleed Democrat blood. Although even I have to admit there do seem to be a fair few attractive Republican men around. Hmmm... Now there's a point worth pondering. Forbidden fruit and all that. If it works for Ainsley Hayes...

Better together...

Phew. What a relief. The campaign’s over, the VP is out of the race and I can get back to what I do best – campaigning with Josh, instead of fighting against him. I hope CJ was proud of me for that one. Though I’m not sure anyone could be proud of someone who dressed up in a chicken costume.

I’m still not convinced about Matt Santos, but Josh can pick a winner... so I’ll trust him on this one.

I'm so proud of him.

As Jack Johnson would say, “it’s always better when we’re together...” Though I gotta say, I’m kind of through being together only as colleagues and I’m hoping us working together again won’t, well, stand in the way of anything else. Though I doubt Josh will be able to multi-function anyway – it’s election, election, election all the way from now till 4th November, so I’d better re-wire my priorities and focus too.

Even if he did keep vigil at my bedside for days in Germany. What was that about? That's not in the job description, is it...?

Focus, girl.

Mmmm, wonder what job I can do? Have I earned the right to being more than a glorified secretary? I should think so. I’ve so enjoyed learning stuff with Will – he’s a much better teacher than Josh – or maybe I just wasn’t distracted when he used to tell me stuff... No danger of that. He doesn’t even have dimples!

Bye bye colored index cards. Something more glamorous, that actually uses my brain. Oh, but maybe I could keep the colored index cards anyway... They’re just so... useful.

Better together – by Jack Johnson

There's no combination of words
I could put on the back of a postcard,
No song that I could sing
But I can try for your heart,
Our dreams, and they are made out of real things,
Like a shoebox of photographs,
With sepia tone loving,
Love is the answer
At least for most of the questions in my heart ,
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy,
And sometimes life can be deceiving,
I'll tell you one thing, its always better when we're together

Mmm, it's always better when we're together
Yeah, we'll look at the stars when we're together
Well, it's always better when we're together
Yeah, it's always better when we're together

And all of these moments
Just might find their way into my dreams tonight
But I know that they'll be gone,
When the morning light sings
And brings new things,
But tomorrow night you see
That they'll be gone too,
Too many things I have to do,
But if all of these dreams might find their way
Into my day to day scene
I'll be under the impression,
I was somewhere in-between
With only two,
Just me and you
Not so many things we got to do,
Or places we got to be
We'll sit beneath the mango tree now (if only!!!)

Yeah, it's always better when we're together...

In the shadow of two gunmen...

It’s 2 am. I’m still here. Of course I’m still here.

Where else would I be?

God, if you’re out there, listen to me. I’m begging you here. Give me this man back. Give this country this man back. He has not even begun to be all he can be.

This man, this man... so fragile inside but so... so... I can’t find the words. He’s precious. The world cannot afford to lose him. America cannot afford to lose him.

Aargh. Who am I trying to kid? You’re not stupid, God. You’re not fooled.

Stuff America. This isn’t about America. This is about me. I’m trying to sound all selfless and
appealing to you for the Greater Good, but the truth is -
I cannot afford to lose him.

He’s everything to me. He gave me that opportunity to find my confidence and start over. He gave me a reason to live. A reason to pick myself up off the ground.

Or was it him who picked me up? He said he couldn’t carry me. But the thing is, he did. His passion, his energy, his busy schedule even. His belief in me. His belief in me made me what I could be.

He makes me great.

He makes me all I can be. I’m not fully me when I’m not around him. It feels like something is missing. Right now sitting here at 2 am (well 2.27 am now) something is missing because he‘s not fully here. Part of me is missing. Part of me is lying on the hospital bed whether I am going to live or d..

Not going to write that word. Not even going to think about it. Lord, I pray for health and vitality. I pray for life. Life. Life. Life.

L I F E

His life, my life. Intertwined. I don’t think I can face life without him.

Oh my gosh. I’m in love with him.

****

It’s 6 am and I’m still here and now I’m panicking.

I can’t be in love with him.

That’s not in the script.

But it does explain a lot of things. The butterflies for instance. The tears when I read what he wrote in my beautiful book from last Christmas. The way I will do anything for him, go above and beyond the call of duty, every time, without any question, just because.

How did I not see this coming?!!!

What do I do?

Help me someone, what do I do now?

HELP!!! HELP!!! HELP!!! SOMEONE!!!

But I can’t talk to any of you. This has to remain unsaid. Otherwise... otherwise I have to... No. That’s not going to happen. He will get well, I will be by his side, I will help him to become all he can be. There is so much in him. So much, so much good.

Help me God...

I’m a wreck.

Health, strength, vitality, please God I pray.

The rest we will deal with somehow.

*****

I want to add an epilogue to this. I know that I was just going to stick the pages in, in no particular order (which is driving me mad, by the way – if this baby takes much longer I am going to have to start putting them in date order or color coding them or something), and not comment. Let the pages speak for themselves. But here... Here I can’t keep the emotion that’s welling up inside me from spilling out.

That night... I can’t think about it without crying. Sometimes, even after all these years, all this water under all these bridges, I wake up sweating from a nightmare like that one and I have to turn over and I have to look at him and touch him, and sometimes I have to wake him up and get him to hold me, hold me till I stop crying, till I stop shaking, till I remember all this was a very long time ago and he’s got me, and I’ve got him, and he’s fit and healthy and all mine and there never needs to be any pretence again.

That night... Nothing has ever compared to it, and hopefully nothing ever will.

But the thing with that night too, is what followed it. The realisation that I was deeply, passionately, head-over-heels in love with him, that there was nothing I could do about it... literally nothing. Nothing. For the next seven years. (Like Jacob who had to work seven years for the woman he loved. But then he got the wrong one. I tried not to think about that.) You know, that was like a hand reaching down inside my gut and twisting everything. Seven years seemed like a very long time.

It was.

That night was just the beginning of a gut-wrenching eternity.

Oh no. I’m welling up. I’m going to have to call him. His staff are going to love that. Still, we can put it down to hormones this time... Sometimes only his voice can calm me down. I wonder if that’s what will stop the baby crying too.

Election Day

I snuck out for two minutes to record something of the euphoria of today.

Except, of course, that there are no words that can describe or do justice to this moment.

No words.

None.

We are winning the election, and I am winning Josh.

All that can possibly be added are exclamation marks.

In the cold light of day...

In the cold light of the day, after I've written things like that, I always cringe slightly. Sometimes more than slightly. I would like it to be borne in mind that I was not entirely sober, and a more than a little frustrated. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick" and all that... And nine years is a lot of deferral.

But I will not allow this to rock me. CJ is right on one thing - there is more to life, more to my life even, than Josh Lyman.

Besides, I really want to win this thing.

It was bound to happen sometime...

Oh, damn it, damn it, damn it. So close. So very very close.

He should be with me right now. Instead we are just both going to be very embarrassed about this in the morning. And for no reason. Nothing’s happened.

Well, not nothing exactly.
He kissed me.
Josh kissed me!!!!!

J o s h
K i s s e d
M e !

I feel like I’m fourteen again. I’m exploding with happiness. I’m wanting to doodle flowers and hearts and his name and my married name. (Well, let’s face it, some of that I have actually already done, been doing for years... thank goodness for diaries no one sees!!)

Well part of me is. The other, adult part of me is sad and frustrated and confused and hurting and embarrassed... oh damn it. We were so close.

Did he even want that key? Could he not have fought a bit harder for it? What does it all mean? Was it just the euphoria of the moment?

What does it mean?????

My head is actually going to explode. It’s certainly spinning a lot after all that wine I had to help me on my way. To help us on our way. I guess there’s a chance he could knock. There’s a chance. I should stay awake just in case.

Like there’s any chance of sleeping anyway.

What a day!!

Well done me, though. I thought that was a spectacularly good line in the moment. “Don’t worry about it. It was bound to happen sometime.” The very epitome of low-maintenance. Chilled out Donna-like ness which is why he loves me. (If he loves me. Who knows?) But man, inside, I was not chilled out. Inside I was screaming “CAN’T YOU SEE WE ARE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER AND THAT’S WHY IT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN SOMETIME?!” Inside I was screaming at him to explain what the heck he means. Inside I was, I’m ashamed to say it, punching him: how dare he minimise our moment? I’ve waited nine years for this!

I will never be able to hear the words “South Carolina” again without shivers down my spine. I’m not entirely sure I will ever be able to face him again without shivers down my spine either. Not that I have in quite a while, it has to be said.

What now?

Seriously, what now?

If I was writing this story, he would come and find me, knock on my door and we could, well, start this thing. Stop faffing around. Stop having odd moments we are supposed to ignore. Stop bandying about sentences like “It was bound to happen sometime” and “it’s not what it looks like” and “I’m here for as long as I need to be” and even “you look amazing”. (Of course I want him to think I look amazing. But what good are THOUGHTS, really?)

We could BE TOGETHER.

Come on, Josh. One small step for man... Come and find me. I’m waiting for you. I love you. I want to be yours. Body and soul.

But this isn’t a story, I don’t get to write it. (I may have built in a slightly shorter waiting period if I had.) And I don’t know what happens next. Another nine years’ limbo? Please God, no.

Billie Holliday’s Body and Soul – seems like it was written just for us...

You’re making me blue

All that you do

Seems unfair

You try not to hear

Turn a deaf ear

To my prayer

It seems you don’t want to see

What you are doing to me

My arms are waiting to caress you

And to my heart they long to press you, sweet heart

My heart is sad and lonely

For you I cry (yes, that's how painful it is sometimes!)

For you, dear, only

I tell you I mean it

I’m all for you

Body and soul

I spend my days in longing

And wondering

it’s me you’re wronging

Why haven’t you seen it????????????????????

I’m all for you

Body and soul

I can't believe it

It's hard to conceive it

That you’d turn away romance

Are you pretending??

Don’t say its the ending

I wish I could have one more chance to prove, dear

My life a hell you’re making

You know I’m yours for just the taking

I’d gladly surrender

Myself to you

Body and soul

Life’s dreary for me

Days seem to be long as years (and it's been a lot of days!!)

I’ve looked for the sun

But can see none

Through my tears

Your heart must be like a stone

To leave me like this alone

When you could make my life worth living

By taking what I’m set on giving, sweet heart

My heart is sad and lonely

For you I cry

For you, dear, only

I tell you I mean it

I’m all for you

Body and soul

After the "interview"

I didn’t cry. That’s my victory. My moment for the finest bagels and muffins in all the land. Ha.

I didn’t cry.

How did I not cry?

He’s just Josh. Amped up to a particular peak of Joshness. And not a particularly pleasant one.

How did I not cry?

I’m crying now though, right here in this Starbucks thinking about how he would have had cream and three sugars. Cue the song from Grease, “hopelessly devoted to you”... And the hardest thing is, I’m so alone in this. The roommate whose cat he used to shout at has long since passed the point of caring. And my colleagues – we share so much, we’re so close, I’m sure CJ is not the only one to have guessed my feelings – but there is no way I can talk to any of them about this.

Come on Donnatella, pull yourself together, girl. You have five majors and two minors. (Sort of.) You are a highly capable woman. You do not need to let one little incident with one arrogant, nasty ex-boss destroy your confidence.

You are also talking to yourself in the second person. Get a grip, girl.

How can I let him do this to me? How is it that I am reduced to this weeping wreck? I don’t think I even wore waterproof mascara today. First big mistake of the day.
But it was him I was thinking of when I put the mascara on. It’s all for him. Everything. Cue more slushy music. “Body and Soul” particularly appropriate for example.

Oh how pathetic I sound when I re-read what I’ve just written. Am I going to allow a mere man to have such a hold on me?
....
He’s no mere man though, is he? I mean, let’s face it. I love him so much it physically hurts.

And did he mean he missed me? Or did he mean I was stupid for even thinking he might be missing me? And if he meant he missed me he could have said it more nicely...couldn’t he? If what he said was really true, if he just couldn’t hire me rather than simply not wanting to, could he not have taken a softer tone, looked at me like he sometimes has, with that tenderness in his eyes?

He’s hurting. Of course he is. He’s hurting that I left him without warning and didn’t immediately leave the Baker campaign to follow him around the country. Didn’t he think I wanted to do that? I mean, really? Is he blind? Fighting a campaign with Josh, again? It was so much fun the first time round. I loved every moment even the moments when he shouted at me. Gosh, it was when I fell in love with him. Right there after the speech in New Hampshire when he turned to me and hugged me because he knew... he just knew... Bartlet was the man, he was going to do it. I was so proud to be a part of that moment. To be a part of what we were going to do... together.

But CJ made me think. There’s more to life than Josh Lyman. As previously stated, I am a highly capable woman (and with distinctive penmanship). I wanted to do something with my career.

Gotta ask myself why though. And much as it pains me to admit it, a large part of it was about proving CJ wrong. Of course I can leave Josh whenever. I am not dependent on him for my emotional being.

Which explains why I am sitting in Starbucks with non-waterproof mascara running down my face.

Which of us is being the most stupid and the most pig-headed here?

You gotta get Josh, that’s what I said to Amy back in those days that I don’t much care to think about. You gotta get him. He spends half his life worrying about who is going to lose next. And he lost me. I left him. No wonder he handled it badly.

Oh Donnatella, how could you have been so stupid? Out of sheer pig-headedness?

God, if you’re out there. I pray for another chance. I will not blow it this time. This man... is everything to me. I can’t bear this.
...................
Right, that’s enough waxing lyrical and drowning myself in hot chocolate. I’m going home to bury myself in some Friends re-runs with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a large glass of wine (or two...). Highly capable woman or not, that’s all I can manage tonight.

Let’s hope we all get to laugh about this one day...

Inauguration Day

Wow.

Today of all days, I want to be more eloquent than that. I should be more eloquent than that.

But, wow.

What a day. What a privilege. What a moment.

I never dreamed I could feel like this... I'm going to erupt into song if I'm not careful.

I have to pinch myself every day to check I am not dreaming. But even my overactive imagination could not have conjured this up. Chief of Staff to the First Lady. What a moment in history. And I get to be a part of it. I even get to claim to have, in some small way, helped make it happen.

I certainly can claim credit for keeping the man who made it happen sane and alive. Health and vitality is what I prayed for him years ago, on the night he was shot. It seems God has given him so much more. And given me so much. Ten weeks in, I can't believe I still get to wake up next to him. I'm calm, collected outwardly, and I'm so happy and serene and that shines through, but inside I don't think even he can guess what's going on. A million butterflies. I'm, what's the phrase, walking on sunshine. I'm with him on one thing - well on many, but anyway - "this is what your first smack high must feel like". One hell of a high though!

It's a whole new era. Saint Exupéry said, "L'amour, ce n'est pas se regarder dans les yeux, c'est regarder ensemble dans la meme direction." I believe that's the key to how we made it. (That and my tireless patience!) And that's the key to how we will make it, despite the stress, the sleepless nights, the Amy Gardners, and who knows what else awaits us.

It's also the key to how together we can help make this greater nation greater. President and Mrs Santos, God bless you. God bless America.

And God bless this beautiful man sleeping by my side. Keep us safe, keep us together. Together fighting for this cause. Could there be a more beautiful dream?

Introduction to my blog!

Well, the baby's kicking, but showing no signs of engaging, so here I am, stuck at home, w a i t i n g, interminably waiting, while Josh goes out and does the fun stuff and comes back to report how my ** hopefully ** temporary replacement is doing. It's killing me, stuck here like this, but I want this baby so much, and sometimes I wonder if that is not killing me more. I want this baby not just for his or her own sake but because, well because, when you love someone this much, when you feel not just your head but also your heart is going to explode from love, to create something, a whole new life, with them. Wow. It's awesome. I never imagined I could feel like this.

Too many commas I know, but I'm just writing from the heart. At least these days I don't need to worry about shorthand. Or spelling. Speaking of which Carol is popping by later, it will be lovely to see her.

Anyway, whilst I am stuck at home, exploding with love and impatience for this baby, exploding with love for my amazing husband, I have been getting things ready and finding bits of my old diaries... All day every day organising stuff at work, I used to come home at night and I had to write, it's like a compulsive thing, but sometimes I couldn't find my diary. I know it sounds crazy from an efficient girl like me. But when you sleep for four hours a night and everything at work has to be perfect, sometimes keeping your flat tidy isn't the priority. And then of course when Josh used to fail to exercise cautious optimism and turn up drunk in the middle of the night to yell at my roommate's cat - well, I used to have to quickly hide it, just in case, not that he ever would... I don't think... And in the early days he probably wouldn't even have guessed there was anything in there that would interest him... But anyway, I'd hide it, then I wouldn't find it, so then I'd write on just about anything I could find. Even napkins and tissues sometimes.

All of which means there are random bits of random diaries scattered amongst my posessions. And I wanted to conserve them for posterity. So I am typing some of them up here. In no particular order. Enjoy.

Disclaimer...

Please note that no copyright infringement is intended. The characters and all quotes belong to Aaron Sorkin, Warner Bros, et al. This blog is a tribute to the wonderfulness of the West Wing, the brilliantly portrated and eminently lovable characters of Josh and Donna, and the breathtaking acting of Bradley Whitford and Janel Moloney. I love you guys. Thanks for the hours of entertainment, laughter, tears and tantalising tension!!