Mamakat: What I Learned in February

February First found me at one of the many hospitals in the San Antonio area, prepping for major surgery.  This would be one more step on my journey through cancer, a second mastectomy, along with breast reconstruction.  I stayed in the hospital for FIVE days, and have spent the rest of February, and part of March, recuperating.  Along the way, I've learned several very valuable life lessons.   Here are just a few:

1. Private hospital rooms are great, unless you have to sit up and can't reach the call button.  For my last mastectomy, I was placed in a semi-private room with a woman who never. Stopped. Talking.  That was awful, and I was happy to learn that I would have a private room.  I was stuck like a turtle on my back for two days.  The only thing I was able to do was sit up, and I needed a nurse to help move the bed. Except that the nurses placed the call button...in an alternate universe.  I guess they thought that I would be so doped up I wouldn't notice.   I finally resorted to yelling really loud, until some random hospital employee came in and showed me where the call button was.   

2. My plastic surgeon does not clone his PAs.   Every morning in the hospital, I would start off my day with a physician's assistant arriving to check my sutures.  They were all lovely women, with long brown hair, and I thought they were all the same person, because, pain meds do that. You hit that button and everything is foggy.  Each one would introduce herself to me, and it didn't matter one bit.  I called them all Grace.  I don't even know if any of these PAs were actually named Grace.  I hope their feelings weren't hurt.   

3.  I cannot sleep on my back without medical intervention.  In the hospital, I had IV pain meds, which knocked me right out. I was a turtle on my back, with not much else to do but sleep.  But once I got home and was off the IV, sleep didn't really happen.  Oh, I would doze for a couple of minutes, but then my brain would start telling me that there was a zombie/serial killer/monster standing over me, and it was all over.  The day that the doctor said that I could start sleeping on my side?  Heaven!  Sleeping is good again. 

4.  My husband really loves me.  He's been by my side throughout my cancer diagnosis, through chemotherapy, radiation, etc.  He came every single day to the hospital to keep me company, after he dropped off our son at school.  But he's gone above and beyond.  Part of my abdominal incision tore, and so basically, I have a hole in my belly.  A hole that has to be packed with gauze twice a day.  Since I can't pack the wound myself, the job has fallen to him.  He's done a great job. It's one thing to say that you love someone when everything is wonderful.  It's another thing entirely to be there when the poop hits the fan like a cancer diagnosis.  He's the real hero in this story.   




Go check out Kat over at Mama's Losin' It!  The prompt I chose was:  1. Something you learned in February.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's that time of the year again.  Time for turkey and family and football games.  Last year, this time, I had just got out of the hospital after a mastectomy.  I was at home, a drain coming out of my chest, high on pain meds and not really up for company.

This year, I am done with chemo and radiation.  I can actually taste most foods now, which is awesome.  My appetite is almost back completely.  I am ready for this holiday this year, with so much to be thankful for.  And I wish all of you a healthy, happy, wonderful Thanksgiving.  Remember that pumpkin pie is good for you!

1. Name a color you are thankful for.  Purple. Majestic, gorgeous, enchanting, purple.
2. Something your spouse does that you are thankful for.  Larry reads to Zane every night.  He does all the voices of the characters, and patiently answers questions.  I love that.
3. Something your kids do that you are thankful for.  My kid is never in a bad mood for very long.  He might cry or get angry, but within five minutes, he is back on an even keel.  I so wish that I could be more like him and let go of negative feelings that easily!
4. A food you are thankful for.  Cheese.  Because, cheese.
5. What recent good news are you thankful for? My last PET scan came back cancer free!
6. Name a drink you are thankful for.  There's nothing like a nice glass of iced tea on a hot day.
7. Name a restaurant you are thankful for.  The 410 Diner in San Antonio, Texas, has the best snapper artichoke on planet Earth. 
8. Talk about an animal you are thankful for.  I love all animals, but cats are my favorite.  Their grace, their independence, their problem solving skills, the total package.  I'm grateful that Isobel, my first cat, decided I was worthy.
9. Name a beauty product you are thankful for.   Hand lotion.  My skin has been itchy since chemo, and I would scratch my skin right off if I didn't have it. 
10. Name a cleaning product you are thankful for.   Clorox wipes are awesome.  I can clean a bathroom in record time, which is good, because I hate to clean bathrooms.
11. What social media platform are you thankful for? Facebook has been a great way for me to share stories with my extended family, who live all over the country.  I'm grateful for that, especially since if not for Facebook, I would have never known that the BCRA1 gene runs in my family!
12. Tell us why you are thankful for the last person who texted you.  That would be my husband, and I couldn't have survived the last year without him.
13. Name a candy you are thankful for.  Almond Joys are awesome.  Yes, lots of calories, but they're the good kind of fats. I don't feel a bit guilty about eating the whole bag.  Just kidding.  No I'm not.
14. Name an app on your phone that you are thankful for.  Plants vs. Zombies 2.  A fun, addicting game with cute flowers and adorable zombies. A great brain break when I'm overwhelmed, and I am grateful for it!
15. What are you looking forward to that you are thankful for? I am looking forward to being finished with all of my surgeries, which won't be until sometime in 2016.  That's going to be the hardest one.  I'll be thankful to have that behind me!


In between stuffing yourself with turkey, check out Mamakat's Writer's Workshop
I chose two prompts:  4. What were you doing last year at this time? and 2. Answer the So Very Thankful tag questions found here! 
 

Five Things

Five Thing You Don't Know About Me:
1. I am a book hoarder.  I know that's difficult to believe, but I have enough books in my house to fill a small library.  I can't help it.  I just love the feeling of holding a book in my hand, of turning the actual pages, and of highlighting my favorite parts.  Some people collect tiny spoons; I collect books.

2. I'm secretly correcting everyone's grammar/spelling.  When someone says a word incorrectly or uses an incorrect tense, it pops out like a big neon sign in my head. It just does. I don't want to be rude or condescending or anything that might hurt someone's feelings.  I just keep my mouth shut and just think about it. 

3. I was Girl of the Year once.  I used to volunteer at the Girls and Boys Club when I was in high school.  They elected me Girl of the Year. I'm still in shock  I have a plaque.

4. I do not collect Willow Tree angels.  My mother in law gives me a Willow Tree angel every year on my birthday and at Christmas.  They were cute the first couple of times, but I've moved on.  She's still buying them for me, and I have to keep them because she'll be hurt otherwise. 

5. I love cheese.  I don't really need to elaborate.

Five Things I Am Knowledgeable About:
1. Navigating Cancer.  After going through the diagnosis, the surgeries, the chemo, the radiation, I can say that.  Ask me anything!
2. Special Education.  It's my job, after all.  And I love working with special education kids!
3. Soccer.  Since my kid plays, I have had to learn. And I love the sport. 
4. The Walking Dead.  I've been watching since the beginning, PLUS I've read most of the comics.
5. Mel Brooks movies. I can quote Young Frankenstein practically word-for-word.   And I know all the in-jokes

Five Things I Know Nothing About:
1. Math.  You might as well be talking in Chinese.
2. Quantum Physics.  See above.
3. Woodworking. It looks easy, but it's really not.  Plus, I'm forbidden from using power tools as a result of my efforts. 
4. Internal combustion engines.  As far as I'm concerned, it's magic that my car starts and gets me from place to place.
5. Interior Decorating.  I like comfy, I like useful, but I'd like to be stylish.  Unfortunately, I suffer from paralyzing indecision when it comes to choosing colors, textures, etc.  I'd rather hire someone to do it for me. 

Five Things I Believe: 
1. Happiness is subjective.  Just because I'm not giggling and giddy doesn't mean I'm not happy.  I'm just not a demonstrative sort, but occasionally I crack a smile.  That doesn't mean I'm angry or sad.
2. Glenn is still alive.  There are other things still in store for Glenn, so don't count him out just yet.
3. Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.  Enough with the conspiracy theories.
4. People just need to calm down. There's too much overreaction and not enough reasonable discourse.  It's all about political theater. 
5. Adults need to play more, work less.  Adults get too uptight these days.  There's nothing wrong with taking a few moments during the day to play, and we should respect that.  No mudpies, though.


Go read other bloggers over on Kat Bouska's Writers Workshop! 

A Day Off

I've had lots of days off over the past year, due to my cancer treatment.  But those don't really count, I guess, because those were days spent at chemotherapy or at the hospital having surgery, or recovering from those events.  I read a lot of books, I think.   I don't even have any memories of some of those days, because I was asleep.  I do have a vague impression that people were in the room with me,  There's also a memory of my son poking me to make sure that I was still alive and not a zombie.

But maybe I imagined that. 

I did have Veteran's Day off.  I think that's great, and hey!  I had the day off.   I had a few happy moments, thinking of the fun things that I could do.

What did I do?

I did not sleep late.

I did not get a mani or a pedi. 

I did not get a massage. 

I did not go shopping.

I did not go see a movie.

I did not have a date to meet my husband somewhere fun.

I did not treat myself to a nice lunch at a fancy restaurant. 

I did not go for a walk.

I would have liked to do some of those things.   Except the mani/pedi.  I still don't have toenails, and my fingernails are still not quite long enough.  

Instead,  I got Zane ready and dropped him off at school.  I came back home to find out that my dog Maisy had somehow retrieved the family-sized tub of butter off of a counter.  She ate all of it.  Since yesterday she somehow climbed on top of the table and ate a giant dark chocolate bar, this necessitated a phone call to the vet. 

I did have a date with the plumber, who showed up to fix the leaking garbage disposal.  I did do five loads of laundry.  I did vacuum.  I did wash some dishes.  I did carry out the recycling.  I did pick up toys and clothes and found several missing socks.  I gathered up the items needed for soccer practice and put them on a chair.

And I had a nap.  

Mom stuff.  I used to get mad about having to do all these chores on my day off.  But over the last year I've developed a new appreciation for routine tasks.  It felt pretty good to do normal things in my own house.  I'm getting my strength, and my stamina back after cancer.  It's something to be grateful for, even if they are chores.   

The next day off will involve a massage, though. 


Go visit Kat Bouska, and her Writer's Workshop!  The prompt I chose was:

1. You have a day off, what do you do with your free time?

I Resemble That Remark

I can't remember the last time anyone has called me a name.  Maybe it was all that chemo.  I've been called a great deal of things in my life.  Mostly variations of my maiden name, because of that "Itsy Bitsy Teeny-Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" song.  The superintendent of my old school district used to call me 'Teeny-Weeny" way back before all of his sexual harassment troubles, but it didn't bother me. 

I'm a bossy, opinionated, assertive sort of person.  I speak up for myself.  I argue if I think something isn't right.  I don't sit back and let things go, not if I can make them better.  I'm not rude, I just like to speak my mind.  And I like being this way.

If I were a man, people wouldn't even blink an eye at me.  But the world at large isn't as accepting of such behavior in women, especially in Texas.  Women in Texas are supposed to look pretty and keep their mouths shut, I found out when I went to college.  What a culture shock from the East Coast where I went to high school!  I wasn't willing to fit into the rigid mold that was the standard Texas Woman of the 80s, and so I started to hear the b-word quite a bit.  And it used to bother me.  How unfair to be called a name for being yourself, for being assertive! 

It bothered me right into my 30s.   Then I one day I noticed that the people who called me that particular name wanted something from me.  They wanted me to get defensive, to become angry to be distracted.  If they could push that button, then they were vindicated in their opinions, no matter what.  Also, some men in particular, would call me that with the expectation that I would become more pliable to their wishes in order to show that I was not the b-word.  Manipulation, pure and simple. That got me thinking--maybe the problem wasn't about me. 

After all, if I was okay with my assertive, independent self, why would I care what those people thought? I thought all of the smart, independent, assertive women out there who were called that same word.  If being called a b*tch was the price that I needed to pay to be myself, I would pay it.  I started to embrace the b-word as a badge of merit, and it lost it's power over me. 

Because I resemble that remark.
 



While I recuperate from my latest step in my efforts to be cancer-free(a hysterectomy/oophrectomy), I'm borrowing a prompt from Kat Bouska's Writer's Worshop.  Go check her out!!

2. The last time someone called you a name.

Ghost Story?

My son likes ghost shows.  Zane remembers religiously that a certain ghost show comes on over the weekend, and he starts asking about it Friday afternoon, like clockwork.  We can no longer pretend that the show isn't on, because he catches us when we are hurriedly trying to flip through the channel. Some aspects of the shows are a little odd, and we discuss that, but we always emphasize that the show is entertainment. 

I am not necessarily an unbeliever when it comes to the paranormal.  Too many things have happened to me over the years for me to say that ghosts don't exist. If, as some scientists claim, everything is made of energy, then perhaps some energies linger here after death.   I am not so arrogant as to believe that I know all there is to know about our world. 

Zane's asked several times if our house is haunted, in hopes of inviting ghost hunting folks over.  He's a social child; I guess that he wants to introduce the ghost hunting folks to the people from Finding Bigfoot?  Alas, our house was built over non-Native American burial grounds, and no one else has lived in the house besides us.  No person has died in our house, and only two beloved pets.  We do not live near power lines, nor have any electromagnetic anomalies, such as loose wires, which might cause a person to experience symptoms of a haunting.

Except...

One night, as I passed by Zane's room, I heard him talking.  It was late, he was supposed to be asleep.  I stuck my head in his room to check.  He was talking in his sleep.  I smiled, and was about to head to my own bed, when I caught Zane's next sentence.

"Where did they hide your body?"

I froze, the hairs on my entire body standing straight up.   What?  What?  I waited there in the dark, shivering, but Zane got the answer he wanted, and he rolled over and was quiet.  I went to bed.

But I was awake, in the darkness, for a long time.


I'm hanging with Mamakat this Thursday for her Writer's Workshop.  Stop by and visit!
5. Write about a time you thought there was a ghost.

Stick A Fork In Me!

It was time for my radiation treatment,

3:30, right on time, just like every weekday,


found me face up on a table

purple marker drawings all over my left side.

The X-Ray machine was circling,

targeting any lurking cancer cells,

when it stopped.

A familiar beeping sound echoed in the room.

As I lay there, eyes closed, and listened,

I realized that the sound I was hearing

was the same beeping sound our microwave makes

when what is cooking is done. 


Head over to Kat Bouska's Writer's Workshop and check out the the other fun stories!  The prompt I chose was:    1. Write a blog post in exactly 12 lines.

Mamakat: Favorite Quotes

I tend to collect quotes.  I'm probably not that much different from most people who read many books in that regard.  Some words just stick, winnowing their way into your head, or your heart, while you're engrossed in the story.  You find yourself thinking of them at odd moments, or after a long day.  Some words can build you up or help you gather your courage. During my cancer treatment I have grabbed onto quotes about resilience, or survival, because I needed them. 

But I've got others. 

One of my favorite books is Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's Good Omens.  It's a humorous tale of "what if" involving angels and devils, good and evil, with blurry lines in between.  But it is this quote that stuck with me, because it is so positive, so happy.  It's pleasant to think of a group of boys running through the park at breakneck speed, a cheerful yellow dog chasing after them.  There are infinite options available to boys at that age, at least when I imagine it. 

“If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.”
― Neil Gaiman, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch


Which brings me to my next quote: 

This one resonates with me.  It's why I work in the field I do.  Children are to be treasured like the gems they are.  No child should ever be harmed in any way, not anywhere.  Their potential should be nourished and cherished, not destroyed.  In my opinion, people who harm children, including those who deny their parents the food stamps they might need to feed them, are as evil as any warlord in Africa.

The last quote I'm sharing today is one I collected in high school from John Steinbeck.  Choice is something very powerful.  People without choices feel powerless.  Those who are allowed to have choices in their lives feel in control, powerful.  Those choices may not always be the best ones, but the great thing about choice is that sometimes you can choose a different path. That's quite humbling.

“But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden



Kat Bouska of Mama's Losin' It fame has a writer's workshop on Thursdays where people can share.  This is the prompt I chose:

6. Share a favorite quote (or group of quotes) that you enjoy and describe what they mean to you.

Favorite Part of Summer

It's been a hazy summer for me, what with finishing chemo and just wanting to sleep all the time.  I've tried to participate in activities as much as I am able, I just don't seem to have the get up and go running just yet. I've missed the summer, including my 50th birthday.

I've slept, and if I'm honest, I've also whined a bit, because I really hate being sickly and unable to do all the things I'm used to doing.  I've felt guilty about not being always available to my son, guilty that I'm unable to keep up with the housekeeping, guilty that I'm not the one doing the shopping, or keeping the family appointments.  That's what Daddy is for, to pick up the slack when I can't.  Larry's done the shopping and the cleaning and the child rearing when he isn't busy chauffeuring me to doctor's appointments and hospital visits.  I don't have any idea what I would do without him.

And Larry and Zane have bonded over Nerf.

They didn't have Nerf when I was a kid.  We just used balls, rocks, sticks, and other projectiles.  I remember seeing Nerf footballs being thrown about at some point in my teens, but that was it. Now Nerf has extended their empire. These days, Nerf has these soft darts that shoot out of cross bows, guns, blasters, and whatever.  Nerf even makes these items in purple and pink for the girls who are into The Hunger Games and such.

Larry and Zane have spent hours watching YouTube videos devoted to "unboxing" new Nerf guns and showing them off.  Apparently Australia has a huge Nerf following, because those guys post tons of videos.  The men in the house have driven all over San Antonio searching every Target and Walmart for new Nerf items and exclusives.  The two of them will sit on the living room floor almost every night and look at their different Nerf weapons, discussing tactics and replacing batteries.

The one rule?  Safety glasses are required.  

They've played a version of Capture the Flag in the house.  Larry even spent a couple of days fixing up the back yard with tarps and other items to create an area where Zane and his friend Austin teamed up against him in an all out Nerf war.  This involved about two hours of loading up all the Nerf Guns and the Nerf clips and setting up the Nerf Rhino Blaster(the Nerf equivalent of a mounted machine gun) on a table in the middle of the yard so whoever could get to it would be able to use it. 

Of course, the Nerf fights end when all the bullets, darts, etc., have been fired.  Which is about five minutes after the battle begins.  Then there's the "Who is going to pick up all 30,000 of these darts?" argument between the boy and his father, which can last another thirty minutes.

The boy loves it.  The daddy loves it.

I'm okay with it.  I wish that I could participate a bit more, but my knowledge in this area is so limited that the one time I did pick up a Nerf gun, I accidentally shot Zane in the butt with a dart.  Hopefully he won't need therapy for that some day.

I miss the days when Zane would climb up in my lap and watch a movie with me, or when he wanted me to read to him.  I'm a little(okay, a lot) angry that cancer has robbed me of almost a year of my son's growing years.  I begrudge the loss of that year, but the upside is that I'll be around to see him grow up into the man he will become.

That makes me smile, even as I give in to my fatigue and nod off again. 


 
3. Ask your child what their favorite part of Summer has been and then write about it.  

I'm trying to get back into the swing of blogging, and what better place to start than here?

I'd Rather Be A Boy Scout

I was never a social kid.  Oh, I was friendly enough, I guess.  Rather bossy, if my report card comments are any indication. But we moved so often that it seemed pointless for me to even try to make friends. Why bother?  I chalked my reticence up as being practical.  I was content to stay in my room and read, anyway. Books don't leave a person, or forget about you the moment you move with your family someplace else.

My parents were having none of that.  I was going to participate in group activities, my mother decreed when we moved to Germany, and not even the Pope would dare argue with my mother when she issued an edict as firmly as that.  My parents signed me up for...Brownies.  They signed my brother up for Cub Scouts.

I was eight.  I thought that the Brownies were just like the Cub Scouts, and I was excited.  The Cub Scouts were cool, with all their awesome badges about making stuff out of wood and skulking about the forest identifying birds and other critters.  I happily imagined the fun I would have, binoculars in hand, locating a rare blue-bellied whatever in the Black Forest of Germany.

The Brownies were NOT like Cub Scouts, I learned to my chagrin.  This was the early seventies, well before Girl Scout cookies were a thing.  Women were still considered to be too fragile for such rough activities as exploring!  No, we girls were expected to...sew things.

Cook stuff.

Clean.

Look pretty. 

Sitting in the meeting, looking around me, I felt like I was an alien.  The other girls looked actually happy, and(gasp!) interested in what to me sounded like actual housework.  I was horrified, and my tiny brain was not a little insulted.  Why did the boys get to have all the fun?  Sure, I had no idea how to use a knife, but I felt that learning to whittle was a valuable skill that would take me far in life.  On the other hand, I was not fond of needles just on general principal. And what was with all this "looking pretty" stuff?  The Boy Scouts didn't even have a "Take a Bath" badge, and boys can get pretty stinky.

I felt a bit gypped by the entire set up.  I had to go, however.  My mother had issued an edict, and that was that.  I earned a few badges, including one for a rather bloodsoaked sewing project.  I did have a few fun times, however, and being part of the Brownies meant that girls actually showed up for my birthday party.  I earned my Junior Girl Scout Wings, and then my mom said that I could quit.  My brother didn't even make it that far.

I still pester him about that.


Head over to Mamakat's Writer's Workshop and read more about National Girl Scout Day, which was the prompt I selected. 

Winter Blahs

Winter in South Texas isn't really much to write about.  Oh, we occasionally have brief bursts of below freezing weather, sometimes with ice, and the fiercest of winds hurling against the windows and into the chinks and crevices in your house.  Most people here call those Blue Northers, but my family calls it Frito Pie weather.  Generally, however, every single person in a 300 mile radius of San Antonio loses their ever-loving minds, because OMG it is SO COLD.  Of course, they say that when the temperature falls below 70, too.  We're kind of wusses about the cold.  Even people, like me, who have lived in the north and experienced an actual winter with snow and ice and fuel lines freezing and such, complain about the cold on those days. 

Fortunately, those events are a rarity. 

What is more likely during the winters here are days that are just...gray.

 

Everything looks as though it has been filmed in the old black and white movie film.  The skies are overcast, and the temperatures are not really cold enough to qualify as winter, but cold enough to need to wear at least one extra layer of clothing. 

For my parents, it means putting on their parkas, because they don't do well with the cold at their age.  For me, it means adding a sweater to my wardrobe.  For my son, it means refusing to get out of bed in the mornings because he's too cold.  And for my husband, winter means switching from shorts to jeans, because he says the temperatures are just getting comfortable. 

We all secretly envy him. 

Some of the trees lose all their leaves in the winter, and stand forlornly, waiting for the spring.  I kind of know how they feel.  Winter in Texas feels hushed, as though every living thing is waiting for...something.

We're waiting for something.

But what? 

The San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo? 

The San Antonio Spurs to come back from their Rodeo Road Trip?

A groundhog to come to his senses, evolve, and move down here?



No. We wait for days when the clouds disappear and the sun comes out and warms us, where ever we are.  I like to sit out on my patio on these days, and let the sun warm my bones and add a little glow to my skin.  Everything feels perfect on those days, if the sun is shining.

Check out Mamakat and her group of wonderful writers.  The prompt I chose was #2. A photo journal entry…show us what winter looks like in your town.

Mom Poem

At
the end
of the
school day,
my sweet
angel
who
never,
ever
EVER
seems
to
stop
talking,
Leaned in
and
whispered,
church-mouse quiet:

"I got a yellow."

Adding yet
another color
to his behavior chart
did not surprise, but

Dare I ask?

"What were you doing that you got a yellow?"

His response?

"Talking."

To think that we were
once convinced
That he would
never,
ever,
EVER
say a single word!




Go visit Kat Bouska of Mamakat fame, and check out the rest of the bunch she inspired this week with her writing prompts.  My choice for this week was  2.  Write a poem inspired by the last conversation you had with your child.

The Best Part

I am one of those irritating people who tend to ignore my own emotions until they bubble up like lava and pour down the mountainside, causing havoc among the villagers.   It's certainly not intentional. I just prefer to focus on problem solving and worry about how I feel about it later.  But I've been told that this is not precisely a healthy choice, so I'm trying to do better.  In my efforts, I now randomly stop and take stock of what I'm doing and how I feel about it. 

I have noticed that I have many "best" parts of my day. 

My first "best" time is when I wake up before everyone else.  The whole house is silent, in anticipation of the day.  There's no sound of computers or gaming systems or environmentally friendly lights.  It's as if the entire world is asleep.  I like to walk down the stairs in the dark to prolong the quiet, even if our dog Maisy pummels down the stairs as if her butt is on fire.  I open the back door to let her out. Then the lights are turned on...and so is the coffee maker.

My next "best" time of the day is when I pick up my son from school. When my sweet boy walks into the office and sees me--that smile!  Everyone on the planet should have someone smile at them like that.  Melts away any bad mood I might have left over from the work day.  We walk to the car, Zane chattering away about his day, and head for home. 

My third "best" time of my day is when my husband walks through the door.   That means that all of my family is in the house, and I can breathe easier.  The cats might be annoying each other and the dog might possibly be trying to sneak into the garbage, but the people closest to my heart are nearby. Everyone is where they should be, and all is right with the world. 

And my last "best" time of my day?  Right before I fall asleep.  The house is dark and quiet.  The dog is curled up at my feet.  My husband and my son are asleep, and it's just me. That's when I count my blessings,  say "thank you" to the heavens, and drift off.

Until at least two or three in the morning, when I usually have to get up and pee.  


Go visit Mamakat's Magical Writer's Workshop to check out some other great writers!
I chose  6. The best part of my day is…

Scars and Memories.

I have an enormous collection of scars. If you look at my skin you will see all of the little door dings, as I call them, places where I've run right into life without looking where I was headed. There are little scratches and bumps from exploring my world without a net.  I'm rather proud of some of them.   

I started collecting scars when I first learned to walk, because walking involves a lot of falling before you get the hang of it.  Tthe scar on my chin came from falling and hitting the kitchen table; that required two stitches at the ER.  My dad said that it took a crowd of people to hold me down, so that doctor must have been pretty skilled.  And fast.  

Many scars.  They all started out fresh, angry, and red, even the ones that I endured on the inside.  They reminded me to pay attention, to be careful, and to knock off whatever it was that I was doing.  Maybe I listened to them for awhile, at least until the scars healed and faded into almost nothingness.  Then I would be back to dancing on the high wire or saying yes to a date, never expecting to fall.  It's that faith, however misplaced it sometimes might be, that keeps us trying new adventures. At least, that's how I reasoned it to be. 

There's the scar on my hand where I jammed a really sharp pencil while in a heated discussion in the third grade.  You can still see the graphite in there. 

There are the scars I've received from playing with my cats, and learning to understand when they stopped playing.  

My smallpox scar represents  a time when the fear of contagious disease was a dark shadow hovering above us. The medical miracle of vaccinations provided relief of that fear.  At some point they stopped vaccinating against smallpox and declared it eradicated, but I still wonder what might happen if... 

My C-section scars, which represent my initially futile attempts at procreation, and my one success.

There are the scars that remain each time I've had a mole removed, just in case it might be cancerous. One scar in particular represents my realization that I could never enter the medical field, since I took one look at the apple corer contraption they were using and fainted.  Good times. 

Since September, I've acquired many more scars.  There's my mastectomy scar, still an ugly reminder of my journey.  There's the scar from my chest drain, still red.  There is a scar on my neck and on my chest where they inserted the mediport.  I will likely have a tattoo added before I start the radiation therapy, which counts as a scar in my book.  Once all this cancer business is over, I will have added the scars of reconstruction as well as the removal of the mediport.   I will be happy to see these particular scars fade away into nothingness.  I won't miss them, or reminisce about how I got them, or expect to be fond of them.  Instead, I will ignore them and act as if they were never there until they aren't.  That might take years.  I'll wait.  


 
Go visit Mamakat and her awesomely helpful Writer's Workshop.  You know you want to!  4. Write a blog post inspired by the word: Scarred

I Don't Do Resolutions

At one time, I thought that resolutions were required of an adult.  As a child, I heard the adults around me speaking of their resolutions every January.  They were all going to lose seventy-five pounds in thirty days, quit smoking, and become a millionaire. There surely had to be a few realistic resolutions out there, but I don't remember any of those.  I only remember the grand resolutions.

There's probably some obscure psychological reason for that. 

I can remember thinking that these resolutions I was hearing about were a bit impossible; I didn't think that my father would EVER quit smoking, for example.  Even after my mother quit, and made my father go outside to smoke, he kept puffing away.  We were living in Washington D.C., and had just had five feet of snow plopped down on us, and my dad was out there shoveling himself a place to smoke.  And then he decided to quit one day, and that was that.  He didn't make a resolution to do it; he just did.  I never heard him specifically say "I quit" until he asked me to show him how to crochet a granny square. 

When I became an official adult, I did the adult thing and made some resolutions.  I was going to lose thirty pounds, find a rich husband, and own all the books ever.  Or something like that.  I think I actually gained thirty pounds that year, and my quest to own all the books was thwarted by authors writing more books.  Never mind the rich husband.  I was a smart girl, surely I could make my own way in the world. 

Year after year, there I was on January 1st, resolving something.  And year after year, there I was on January 31st, feeling guilty/angry/depressed.  Occasionally, I would attempt to just get right back on that wagon, try to meet that resolution at least one more time.  Things never ended well. I gained the weight I'd planned to lose. I became ill and couldn't exercise more, or keep the house clean, or whatever. 

I realized that my tendency toward making resolutions had to do with meeting other people's expectations than my own.  It was a topic of conversation at work, our resolutions.  Weight contests were started; exercise groups were formed.  If you didn't keep up, the others looked at you with pity, and who needs that?

So I just stopped. I resolved to not do resolutions. I didn't talk about resolutions.  I didn't even mention them.  If someone asked me about my resolutions, I would just smile and ask them about theirs.  I realized that I didn't need to meet anyone else's expectations, just my own.   It was amazing how much weight lifted off my shoulders that year.  No guilt or anger or depression. No pressure to do anything...except be.  I decided to start eating more fruits and vegetables, and walking more instead of taking the elevator.

And then, one day, I had lost thirty pounds.  Without a resolution at all. 


Check out the other writers at Mamakat's. 

 1. Share your 2015 New Year’s Resolution. How did last year’s turn out?

7 Best Ways To Spend A Winter Break

I am a firm believer in the idea that a break, or a vacation, is a time to not engage in anything remotely work related.  I put away my work laptop, and push the latest report that I need to finish completely out of my mind.  I don't check my work email, or answer any work related text messages.  My husband is the same way; we are very happy to let go of work-related responsibilities and focus on rejuvenating ourselves.  This year our break has been emphasized by the realization that I will be starting chemo therapy in the next two weeks; I may not be feeling so hot then.  Here then, are all the ways that my family and I have been enjoying our Winter Break. 

1. Sleep in.  Moms traditionally never get enough sleep.  That's just one of those things that you give up in exchange for the adorable children you birth.  During the work week, moms traditionally get up at the most ridiculously early hour to make sure that the entire household gets to school/work on time.  During Winter Break, however, NOBODY has to be up before the sun, unless you live on a farm.  If you want to sleep until 8am, that is entirely possible.  Thirty extra minutes or so is entirely possible during this time of year, and that is golden.

2. Catch up. Got a full DVR?  Shows that you missed still in your Netflix or Hulu queue? This is the perfect time to catch up on all those shows that you've been missing because of various conflicting activities, such as soccer practice.  We've got a ton of Constantine as well as a few Finding Bigfoot episodes to watch.  Once they've been viewed, we can clear everything off, and that will be a relief.  The best part of DVR viewing?  No sitting through commercials! 

3. Movie Day...and Night.  Winter break is perfect for watching movies.  It's dark and gloomy and cold outside--who wants to be out there?  Grab some popcorn and park on the couch, where it is nice and warm and cozy.  We've watched all three of the Christopher Nolan Batman movies, Guardians of the Galaxy, and every Peter Jackson film involving Elves and Hobbits.  We still have Godzilla and the last Bond movie to go.

4. Read All The Things.  During this break, I have been able to sit for long periods of time and just...read.  There is not a darn thing wrong with sitting in bed, in your comfy jammies, and reading all day long.  Right now, I'm reading lots of fluffy books by Jayne Krentz and Jude Devereaux and Julie Garwood, but that's only because I've read all of the new books that I had on my Kindle.  I have a huge pile of books next to my side of the bed, and I'm making my way through them.  I think the YA book Ripper is next, or it could be Mark Twain's autobiography. Who cares?

5. Do Family Stuff. We have an Xbox One, and my husband and son have bonded over Shadows of Mordor.  The three of us have looked into the telescope Zane got for Christmas, huddling outside after dark and checking out the moon.  We've combed the back yard to make sure that Bigfoot is not hiding in the bushes.  We've giggled and had indoor snowball fights.   We've played Hide and Seek, too, although that has mostly been us sitting on the couch and Zane hiding. Because we're lazy parents. 

6. Eat. Drink. No Guilt Allowed.   During this time, it is okay to have an extra helping of pie, or a second glass of wine.  I'm not talking about eating your weight in fudge, although that is actually a lovely daydream.  Winter Break is not about starving yourself, or worrying about how many calories you're consuming.  Don't go nuts, but this time of year is not for guilting yourself about your diet.  Savor that bite of fudge, instead of regretting it.  It will taste better. 

7. Just Be. How often do we just get to be who we are?  Most of the time there's some sort of demand upon us.  There are deadlines and meals, and children to be driven to where ever.  It gets to be difficult to remember your name, let alone who you are.  Every now and then, we all need to have a small space of quiet.  Winter Break gives you those moments of silence to pause and contemplate and remember.   No pressure, just a second or two of peace, before we have to go back into the fray.


What are your favorite ways to spend a Winter Break?  Do they involve cookies?  Can I come over?  I wish all of you lots of love and laughter for the New Year! 


Go check out the other great bloggers over at Mamakat's World Famous Writer's Workshop.  This is the perfect time to join up!  The prompt I chose was 2. 7 best ways to spend Winter Break.

Holiday Trip

My second favorite past time is thinking about all the places I would go, the things I would do, if money was not a factor.  (My first favorite past time is compulsively buying all the books that exist, but this blog post isn't about that)   I would probably want to fly my family somewhere where there is snow, because my son has never seen snow.  Everyone should experience snow at least once in their lives, I firmly believe. We would have to dress warmly, of course; right now we can wear shorts comfortably.  Nicely snug coats and mittens and snow boots would likely be required, as well as hats and long johns, as we used to call them.  

We would be heading to Germany.  Nuremburg, to be exact.  They have a Christmas Market that is one of the best in the world.  It's been years since I've been there, but I remember as a child that it was a magical place.  The pageantry of the Christkind(Christ child), the lights, the food, and the fun are still in my dreams even now around this time.  

Primarily the food, and I'm not ashamed to say that.  

I'm not a huge fan of lebkuchen, the German gingerbread, but I loved the gorgeous decorated tins the cookies came in at the Christkindlemarkt, and I still have some of them.  However, I did adore the Nuremburg sausages. They would be served in hard rolls and were so delicious that my mouth is watering right now, just thinking about them.  

My mother purchased some ornaments for our Christmas tree each year at the market, including these little handmade figures called Prune Men.  My parents would sip a hot wine drink while we wandered among the aisles, because it is freakin' cold in Germany at this time of the year. I cannot even describe how cold it is, because my tiny brain has completely blocked out any apt description that would convey the immense refrigeration experience that is Germany in winter.  

But it would be completely worth it.  We could stay in a hotel right on the square, walk over to the event, and just be mesmerized by every single thing, from the glockenspiel on the church tower to the faces of the crowd, especially the children.  My son's face would glow with his excitement and my cold heart would grow three sizes.  

Unless the glow was frostbite...

 

Check out Mamakat and her awesome Writer's Workshop.  Try one of the prompts if you like them! 5. Describe how you would celebrate the holidays if it was totally up to you and money was not a factor.


 

Sometimes I Can Keep a Secret

I am not good with surprises.  Because I tend to speak without thinking, I often give away the answer even before most people have even formulated the question. There was the Christmas when I told my father to hurry up and open his wallet, as I handed him his present.  Or the time that I blurted out "I got you a necklace" when one of my friends said hello to me.   It's rather embarrassing. Except for this one time, when I rocked the secret keeping so hard, it was a thing of beauty.

Many years ago, my boss was turning 40. Because she'd gamely tried to keep up with me for my thirtieth birthday, right down to that last tequila shot, I wanted to surprise her. I wanted to do something magnificent that she would never, ever forget. 

I felt that a night with The Rolling Stones would qualify.  

I have a special affection for those guys, since they first hit it big in America right around the time I was born.  Most of the original members were still in the band, and The Stones were always entertaining in concert. I know this because I'd seen them several times.  My boss loved them as well.  So I made sure to talk constantly about The Rolling Stones concert nonstop whenever Martie was around.  And my boss specifically said, every time I brought the concert up, that she wanted to go.  

Then I gathered up the entire office on the sly, and asked them all to chip in whatever they could, and everyone contributed what they could.  Then I headed over to the local Ticketmaster to stand in line on the day the tickets went on sale.  Because back then, there was none of this lazy "wait next to the computer" thing to get tickets.  If you were hardcore and really, really wanted to see a particular band, you got your butt up at whatever gawdawful time necessary to go stand in line outside, no matter the weather, and wait until those Ticketmaster employees managed to show up.  I waited in a line for HOURS for those darn tickets.  Well, two hours, anyway.  But I was able to buy four tickets to see The Rolling Stones, because tickets didn't cost 300$ in those days.

I went to work that Monday and bragged loudly about how I had tickets to the concert. I laid it on thick, how great a time I was going to have.  And when Martie asked if I'd had a ticket for her, I played dumb.  

"I didn't know that you wanted to go," I said, wide-eyed.  "If only you had said something, I would have bought you a ticket too."

Martie was upset.  She was downright ticked off at me.  I was going to see one of the greatest bands on the planet, and I had completely forgotten about her.  I apologized and acted like I felt terrible about the whole thing.  

And then the day of her birthday, we all gathered in her office, sang "Happy Birthday", and handed her an envelope.  The look on her face was priceless.

"I'm so sorry about all the bad things I said about you when I was mad," she said as she hugged me.  

"I know," I replied. 




Go check out other writers over at Mamakat' s fabulous site. You won't be disappointed!

I Saw It On Pinterest

Pinterest has been a godsend to many people.  For me, it's a place to laugh, daydream and/or windowshop.  The food section, for example, with all the yummy desserts that I drool over but will most likely never make, is my low calorie way of snacking. I also love to read through the humor section and laugh, and if the number of items I've pinned in the travel section is any indication, I'll be heading around the world to various exotic locales when I win the mega-lottery.

But mostly I just wander about, letting my curiosity take me where it will.  Since I'm into crochet, I pin any crochet projects that apply to my "Crafts I Might Not Suck At" board.  I also pin other craft projects that tickle my fancy, such as decorating those white ceramic mugs with whimsical sayings and cute little pictures. 

That is the one I decided to try.  I read up on the basics of the task, on several different pins of the same craft.  All were in agreement that oil-based paint markers were required.  I ordered mine off of Amazon. Yes, I am lazy.  (I was lazy before I got cancer, so I can't even blame that.)  I did not want to drive all over town looking for paint markers, and I wasn't really sure what the local craft stores would have. 

The next step was to find a white ceramic mug, and I happened to have one handy.   They also sell them at the dollar stores and Big Lots, if those stores are open in your area.  The directions said to write or draw a picture on the mug. 

And...this is where I got stuck.  

Before I decided to actually perform this experiment, I had tons of pithy statements in my head regarding coffee.  Tons.  "There is no good conversation before coffee" for instance.   Or "I have not finished my coffee. Your argument is invalid.", for another.  My creativity was caffeinated and it was wonderful.

Put a paint pen in my hand, however, and all thought fled.  Forty minutes later, I just wrote the only thought I could generate, which was "I love you".  Cursing my sudden writer's block, I drew some lovely little hearts, too. 

After all the fancy pants artwork, the directions are in agreement that the mugs are to be placed in the oven to cook at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.   This is to ensure that the creative flair used to create such a spectacular and unique coffee mug does not completely disintegrate in the face of the stupendous power of a good dishwasher.   Because ain't nobody got time to hand wash a bunch of coffee mugs, no matter how gorgeous they are. 

And this is where my attempt stands. This particular mug is going into the dishwasher at some point today, and we shall see if my efforts are treated like sand castles on the beach.  I will be okay if I have to start over with a blank canvas, in this instance.  If you're looking to give these mugs as gifts, however, I would suggest that you put them in the dishwasher to test before you wrap them up, just to make sure your artwork is secure.  

What Pinterest activities have YOU tried recently? 


Go check out other bloggers over at Mamakat's Writer's Workshop.   She has been extremely helpful to me over the years, when my brain ran dry of things to write about, plus I've met some great people, and I can't say thank you to that lady enough without appearing stalker-y. This week I used the prompt: 2. You saw it on Pinterest…does it really work?

Fives

I picked this particular prompt because I thought it would be easy, believe it or not. Piece of cake! I'll have this whipped out in no time!  Which curiously leads me to the very first thing on the list...


Five Things You Don't Know About Me

1. My mouth is bigger than my brain sometimes.  I often speak before I think, which means that what comes out of my mouth isn't always what is expected.  It's sort of the equivalent of a drunk man shouting "Watch this!" before he tries to juggle chain saws.  I've improved over the years, but still have my moments. 

2. I was in an actual commercial once.  It was for the United Way in Washington D.C. in the early 80s.  It took all day to film in the hot sun. A bunch of hot and sweaty kids sang a song over and over again while they filmed.  I am pretty sure that we all sucked horribly, because I never actually saw the commercial on TV. Ever.  If I ever run for office, someone will find the video and use it for blackmail.  It is that bad.

3. I sang at the Kennedy Center.  In high school I was asked to try out for the county choir, and I actually made it by faking an ability to read sheet music. Oh, and sing. not only did we record an album, we also were asked to perform a Christmas show at the Kennedy Center. That was actually cool, even if it didn't lead to a fabulous career in the music business.

4. I was in a rock band. It was high school.  One of my friends wanted to start a band, and I had not a thing better to do.  We weren't horrible, if you don't count the time that I completely forgot an entire verse of a song during a performance. Just stood there until I remembered it.  Most people who were there still remember that, which is another reason why I haven't been to any of my high school reunions.

5. People seem to faint a lot around me. During the filming of my one and only commercial, my friend fainted.  During one of my choir concerts, another one of my friends fainted and fell from the back row of the risers.  One time I went to the movies, and a random guy behind me fainted.  If I think about it, at least one person faints around me approximately every two years.  That's too often to be a coincidence, I think.  Maybe it's that electromagnetic thing? 

And as for the other Fives, I'm not going to go into detail, but if you want to ask me about anything in the comments, I'll try my best to actually answer.

Five Things I'm Knowledgeable About
1.  Special Education
2.  Behavior
3.  Serial Killers
4.  Emergency Planning
5.  Cats


Five Things I Know Nothing About
1. Physics
2. Math
3. Combustible engines
4. The Chinese Language
5. Polo


Five Things I Believe
1. No child should ever be unloved.  Ever.
2. If an animal is terrified of a person...stay away from that person.
3. A closed mind is usually an empty one.
4. Trust your gut. Or as I like to call it, your spidey-sense.
5. Always try to learn something from every experience, good or bad.

Your turn--what are some things that nobody knows about YOU?

Head over to Mamakat and check out all the wonderful people over there sharing the love!  I chose the following prompt: 4. Five Things. List 5 things we don’t know about you, 5 things you’re knowledgeable about, 5 things you know nothing about, and 5 things you believe.