Happy Birthday Old Man River!

Over time different cultures have come up with agreed upon points of reference in which to measure time. Most notably (for us anyway) the Western Culture with its year 2007 AD. My Zilla has always (for his 9 years of life) marched to his own drumbeat. Personally, I think it's more of a shuffle, and I don't think it's quite a drum. It's probably more like a triangle that's hits off tune and at odd times. He is my son after all.

He has come up with his point of reference in which to distinguish importance and chronological order in the universe. We, that is to say my house, are currently living in the year 53 AG. Screw that whole anno domini thing. What the F is that anyway? This is by far much more important. Seriously.

What we base timelines on in my house is...Godzilla. Everytime I say that word aloud or in my head I hear that screechy roar that resembles many, many large fingernails scraping across the wolrd's largest chalkboard while being amplified at Spinal Tap's infamous 11 setting. I just know I'm going deaf.

So poor Granpa aka Old Man River has a birthday tomorrow. And what heartfelt expression does he get from his loving, respectful grandson?

"Oh my god! You're older than Godzilla!"

But what does he expect? He was born in 13 BG.

It's been a long time a-coming

It's been a long time since I've had to deal with any normal women's issues. ahem. Yes, that is to say PMS. I even forgot how to deal with the whole "issue". I looked at the lady products as if they were European plug-ins or something. Yaaa! What do I do? What do I do? I felt like my old 13 year old self unsure of what the body was doing. And what in the world was I supposed to do with it?! Was there a manual? I just knew the Judybat was hiding it from me.

That's my big news. Flo came. She's just laughing at me and telling me to eat my grits. I don't like grits. They're messy. So is Flo, but I don't think she cares.

I have very mixed emotions about her. I feel "normal" again, but goddamn it...I didn't like her in the first place no matter what different boyfriends told me. I dated a few fellas that for some reason got turned on by her. yuck. sorry. I won't repeat that. BUT what freaks me out more is that I don't know if the drugs are working to keep the cancer from being fed by the estrogen that is still being produced in my body. I don't have bc anymore, but it's a precautionary step to keep any miniscule cells at bay.

I would go through stints of not wanting to have the little egg producers reside in my body anymore then something would happen, and I'd get baby fever for some insane reason. Very confusing. even for me, and I KNOW I'm a very complex person. Some would say wishy-washy. Others would say flakey. Still some would imply bi-polar. Whatever. I have my reasons for my actions. Right now it's because of hormones.

The funny thing is that my coworkers knew what it was. The day after I made brownies at 11 pm, I was mindlessly cleaning and getting very, very cranky over the colossal mess that keeps growing in my office-esque room. They made me Tension Tamer Tea. I also got mental hugs, a few pieces of chocolate, and a few jokes aimed at me. I deserved those.

Now it's Saturday night, and what I think I really need and what I'm going to give myself tonight is wine.

38 Days Remaining

Already I've packed up all of my winter clothes, pictures, art, art supplies, kids' craft supplies, books, movies, music, and kids' books and movies. It took only a few hours. Now the long wait begins...

I keep looking at the calendar. Time seems to be dragging, but I know it goes faster as we get older. I'll be outta here in no time.

Chi Adventures

Sunday was a real treat. Aside from being blown nearly off the road a few times, the trip to Lawrence with the kids and dog was rather enjoyable. Listening to live music at the Replay felt like old times. I missed a few Goddesses who didn't show up, but oh well I'll close my eyes and envision their sparkling eyes.

On the way home me and my little family enjoyed the warm air and saying "hi" to people doing whatever outside their homes and close enough for us to acknowledge their existence. At Pa's house we went in and I proceded upstairs to relieve my bladder of PBR. That's when I noticed something rather strange. Nothing brown and fuzzy was trying to get into my lap whilst peeing, and my ears weren't ringing in pain from high pitched barking. I finished and walked the upstairs. uh oh. I flew downstairs practically ramming into Pa who was running to find me. We both had the same look.

Funny, it was the same look we had when we realized I was pregnant for the first time.

So out the door we go. I drove around first with the windows open, calling for Chi, and asking people if they'd seen her. I drove back. Then we both took off in different directions with kids in tow. Pinkie was wimpering. I thought Zilla didn't give a damn either way. I had gotten my workout in and returned sans damn dog.

However! Pa was coming up the street with a small bundle of wiggles in his arms. That's when Zilla took off running calling for said damn dog. ahh Zombie Boy does have emotions! Pa dropped Chika, and off she went just like a dog at the races. I'll have to look into that for a little extra money.

A couple of kind hearted, small dog familiar neighbors caught her and noticing her girth, they instantly knew that she was a well loved chihuahua. I heard she actually behaved herself! no biting, fussing, peeing, etc...

I'm still going to shish kabob that bitch one of these days.

Boob Squish came out clear.

Boob Squish

Yesterday I left work early to go to my 8 month (?) mammogram. I have one tit remaining, so it's a good idea according to my doctor. According to my breast tissue and history of breast cancer detection and my surgeon, an MRI is a better idea, but this Dr. Oncologist is a man (no offense) and my surgeon is a WOMAN (with great taste) who has a lot of experience in Breast cancer and the different ways of detection that different types of breast tissue require. I trust her a bit more especially since she was determined to find out exactly what was there and to get it out quickly. Dr. Oncologist didn't think yoga could help me out. I guess he doesn't understand stress and stress-relieving techniques.

ok on to my mam story...

I drove to Shawnee and stopped at a drive through. It was 2:30 and I hadn't eaten since 7:45 that morning. My stomach was fairly grumpy thus making me very grumpy. I got a call when the guy in the window handed me my food. It was the imaging place where said boob squish was going to take place. "Did you have breast cancer?" "Yes!" " Did they tell you that you need to bring your previous films (mammogram pics) ?" " No." "Well, I need them before your appointment. Can you go get them?"

I said it was 2:30, right? Well, the appointment was at 3:00 in Olathe. I was in Shawnee. My mammograms I thought were sent by my oncologist's office to them. No. they didn't have them. Hmmm...Ah LMH had them. I had to drive all the way back to Lawrence, and go ask for them from the hospital. On the drive there on an empty tank of gas, I rescheduled my appointment until this afternoon. I get to the hospital and was informed by a very delightful girl behind the radiology registration desk that the Breast Center moved the LMH South. Great! Call them up and go get them! Day is saved!

Now, I don't know if you know where LMH South is, but I do. It's right across the streest from where I, Goddesss GB, and Goddess Going There work. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. Gas is like what? $2.78? It takes a quarter of a tank to go to Lawrence and back home. I'm cheap, I know. I'm a big believer in global warming, a bigger believer in that than Kansas winning the basketball championship. (I heart KU!) I could have walked there and gotten the films if the person who registered me by phone LAST week would have told me to go get them. I love efficiency.

So today I go have my boob squish. Here is the lesson I want you all to learn....Always know where your mammogram films are and take them with you on your next one!

Light at the end of the tunnel

We move back to Lawrence June 1st! Calloo Callay!

It's a cute little white house with blue trim built in the 1920's complete with a covered front porch for after work beer drinking with my soon to be new neighbor and fellow goddess Bertha and a basement for crazy Kansas weather.

I can't wait for a summer of bike riding, swimming at the public pool, walking downtown with kiddos, going to the library, Sunday afternoon shows at the Replay, having my own garden again, and to see my Goddesses much more often!

I don't know if it's just wierd emotions, but I'm getting teary-eyed. My horrible, terrrible, very awful year is finally coming to a close, and a new beginning is coming soon. I have a few more steps, but I'm taking care of those.

6 more weeks!

The Judybat and Henry

Yes, I know I'm immature, and probably not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I love watching my mom cringe and turn her heels while Henry Rollins is speaking on the telly. Especially when the telly is in her house, and he's in Isreal.

After all, it is HER glorious nation by god-given right.

Some thoughts and a little light reading before bed

Old Man River just handed me a book called "The Case for the Resurrection".

Yah…silly me. I actually believe that global warming is probable.

Only a liberal fool would swallow that ridiculous farce instead of believing in the power of that miraculous death defying act of the sweet Lord.

hmm…Speaking of the sweet lord…have you seen Dejesus on the Royals? hmm-mmm…talk about sweet lord.

Ain't no old hen yet!

Hmm…2 computer classes. 2 beers. One great time flirting with a ceramic teacher known for bedding his students. I love school!

There's a sign in the computer lab at JCCC banning kids from it. I think that's funny because the girl who sits next to me is probably 13 years younger than me. Makes flirting with the hot art "professor" even better.

This is going to be fun…

The Lord Hath Risen

And I didn't kill anyone. Aren't you proud of me?

Everyone remained mature and grown up with only a tiny bit of drama over a missing bottle of bourbon. It was found, and my brother apologized to me. I finished a project that I started last night. And I found out that one of my brothers has the same thyroid medication. He just started on the stuff. I warned him of the ADHD crap that will kick in in a few weeks.

I have come to the conclusion that christians eat ham on easter as a slap in the face towards jews and muslims. Jesus likes sweet meat. Sweat meat and devil eggs. Personally, I like devil cake.

All in all. Easter went off without the ranting and passive aggressive behavior that is usual for a Sunday. There was lamenting and gnashing of teeth over frozen plants, but there was entertainment over an illustrated bird book with recorded bird calls. So it turned out good.

I think I'm going to force my kids to learn all of the bird calls so they'd get on David Letterman. A segment called Stupid Kid Tricks.

F**K 'EM

I went to First Fridays last night with an old friend of mine. We've always skirted our differences of opinions so we wouldn't get angry with each other. I'm fairly left. He's Libertarian. Both of us have our naive ideas about our sides. We both see our sides are more honest, forthcoming, and helpful to society as whole. Ok. We disagree over the "how-tos" and the "what-things-are". We avoid these things to keep things pleasant until…the government should get rid of all social programs.

Whatever.

He doesn't like being obligated to help people. He honestly feels that people (the great majority of them) would give to charities to help the poor. And since there'd be less restrictions, there will be less poverty. Fuck any consumer advocacy. Business-rule-all attitude.

He didn't even flinch when I said that'd I be dead if it weren't for the social programs in place. I'd be receiving no surgeries, no chemo, and no check ups. My children would be left without a mother. fuck 'em. In his fantasy world charitable organizations would take up the slack. oh. They don't exist now because there is no need for them. But in the mean time any all aid to those less fortunate (whether american or not) should cease entirely. fuck 'em.

I can't say how much that hurts. I can't say how much that makes me angry that a person has the gall to say they are compassionate when they would purposefully stand aside to watch people (or anything else for that matter) starve to death or die of some horrible disease. Or that they would express these feelings towards someone who has come too close.

It is makes me laugh in my dark humor kind of way when they equate compassion with cruelty. You see in his book they are one and the same. ok ok. There are times when mercy killing is the best option. Look at Terry Schiavo. But it is completely different when one is talking of people who have the possibility of a viable future. Look at the children of Africa. I understand the land mass cannot handle the population, but there are alternatives to overpopulation. Pro-lifers eat my pooh.

I guess this is the point:

Do not under any circumstances be as rude as to trivialize anyone's misfortune and act as if their possible untimely demise is a matter of mild curiosity. If I believed in hell, I'd think that there'd be a special place in it for you if you do.

hair tingles on the Frontline

I'm sick of creepy-crawlies. Seriously. Yesterday I counted 8 large brown recluses and 18 ticks. Today I cleaned up a mousehouse at work and counted 2 large brown recluses and 1 tick. A few weeks ago I smacked a brown recluse off my neck at work dropping so many of Rikki's beloved f-bombs that the receptionist, who was on the phone with a client right behind me, calmly put the him on hold and burst out laughing. I have PTSD from it. My hairs are tingling with the heebie-jeebies ALL the time. Even right now as I type in the relative safety of the over-sprayed Old Folks' Home.

I counted my dog's vampiric "buddies". It's a total of 24 ticks on my Chi in the past 1.5 weeks. Freeze warning? Bring on that freeze warning and kill the little shits off!

Like I said…I'm sick of creepy-crawlies.

House hunting Lawrence style

I have more loyalty to a creature that stayed by my side in the worst of situations than I have a need of shelter from a grinchy, heartless woman at the moment.

Yesterday I got a call from a landlord who insisted upon a pet deposit of $1360 if I wanted to live in a lower level 2 bd apartment in a East Lawrence house with my Chi. The rent is $680. I don't know about you, but I think that's a bit excessive. Especially since my daughter will make poopy messes more often than my dog.

Funny thing is that she was acting like it was a favor that she obviously preferred not to do for me and my family. hmm...I'll do her a favor and not rent from her.

Back on the hunt…

Lofty Mom Thoughts (and one dirty secret)

Last night me and the kiddos watched a portion of the second Shrek movie. I had issues with the first, and now I have issues with second. I don't like the message of accepting everyone except apparently short delussional people. In the second though your required to accept judgemental people, but you have to watch the extras to find that lesson out.

What I had issues with and that was laughed at in the first movie but accepted in this one is the whole "waiting for your hero to make it all better". I really don't like waiting until your "prince" saves you from whatever your dilemma might be. So comes now, Enarda, to bring it upon the children to think about the possibilities that no one is going to "save" them. No. We're not talking religion right now. I had the children recall the shirt that my young daughter wore the day before, and the lesson printed on it.

On Sunday LuLu gave my little Goddette a goddess t-shirt. The black one with pink print. The one that says:

You are the hero of your own story.

I can't remember who authored that one, but good job. She wore that to school on Monday. I'm sure it was a hit. Especially with the conservative faculty. It was a hit with the Judybat. I smiled.

But this is not the only child directed thing that I have issues with. Oh no. I have issues with Bratdolls. They look like "hoodrats". streetwalkers. crackwhores. bee-otches. ugly bee-otches. I don't want my girl aspiring to that either. yeeuck.

Barbie and all her sleazy sexing seems so tame. My Barbies had sex. Even though I had only one Ken. No. I'm not hipocrite. Those lusty ladies had jobs and direction. And none of them got married. We're not Mormon. Anyways I don't think Mormons like lesbian love.

I want my girl looking at Steinham. Fuck. I want her looking at Pelosi and Clinton. Thankfully she's not paying attention American Idol, but then again neither am I. So…what lessons am I going to raise my kids with? Independence, thoughtful ambition, personal strength, responsibilty, and I don't care if your gay. I want grandchildren. Turkeybasters are options. I'm just saying.