Layers of dirt, dead matter, minerals, heat and pressure form rock over eons. In my life, pressure has formed rock in my 32 years of existence. I have yet another form of pressure to add to the list of things that push me into unwanted circumstances but that strengthen my determination to better my situation.

My son is my (s)mother. How can an 8 year old think that he can decide what you eat and how much you drink? Ok. He does have concerns that younguns just should never know about. I didn't know about cancer. I knew about other horrible stuff, but noone I knew had anything that could spread like an invasive weed throughout the body.

By the way, cancer and weeds will probably be the subject of another blog since we're going into the growing season.

Back to layers....my bits of consciousness that poke and pester me to be healthier. Could I have a healthier lifestyle? Well..yes, I could stop drinking (I will try during chemo) and eat more organic things (I'll have to work on the miser in me) and cook from scratch (I don't...no). I do love physical activity, and Goddess willing I'll be able to ride my bike on chemo!

My son is picking over my food. "Mom, you're not supposed to eat cheese." It's cheese for fuck's sake! "Mom, did you drink all that alcohol in one night?" He's looking at my recycling that has sat on the side of my house for almost an entire year. Aye. A little pressure can go a long way!

Hee hee. My mom's a good 'un. Her: "Do you know what the ink in your tattoo is?" We were discussing my snake (family) tattoo. Me: "uh, no mom. But do you know what the pesticides, that you and dad sprayed in the house (and on my bed), could do to a growing child?" She actually conceded to that. Sometimes she does surprise me.

She's conservative only on the basis of abortion, death penalty, and guns. She does, however, have a strong belief in education, social welfare for the needy, family (and how our market system does not give a hoot about it), and a burgeoning sense of environmentalism and healthy lifestyles being interconnected. She also doesn't judge single moms (as long as they're on the look out for a man) and will defend a "lady of ill repute" when it comes to violence towards women. I swear, I'll be able to turn her away from the dark side someday.

But this is not about her or her beliefs. This is about me. It IS my blog.

The next direction of pressure is the father (not babydaddy, Personal Assistant, Assooze, etc.). My father is still pushing those nutrients like a crack dealer in DC. Damn. Maybe I should say...like a fundamentalist christian talking to their "dying" heathen daughter. As if. "Not dying here or anywhere else for an extremely long time. So please back it off," said heathen daughter.

Now to the last. This is Babydaddy, Personal Assistant, Assooze, etc. Wow. You'd think a guy would go out to get laid if he keeps being told "no". That's all I'll say about that.

So back to being a rock. I don't like diamonds (Not my son's friend, Diamond...the rock diamond). I think they're tacky and not in a good way. I love stones where you can see the veins of other minerals streaming through them. Goddess, I love jade! I love garnetts and amythysts. I love the deep earth tones that you can see while driving through the southwest and west. I love seeing fossils in them! I love the look rocks bring when they're placed stategically in gardens either English or Asian. They are beautiful, and they are reminders that existence goes on and on even though you don't.

So, when I'm accused of being a lizard with no emotions, I'll just remind myself and the accuser that with all the pressure from circumstances and people over my lifetime, I've become quite a beautiful stone. Maybe not precious to them, but definitely to those who count.