Pressure Cooking

I'm 2 years old

2008-03-25T10:43:00.000-07:00

Seriously. My two year anniversary happened yesterday. I almost forgot it until while sitting in the doctor's office and he tells me my mammogram came out clear. I happened to see the fiberous tissue comment, but oh well if it comes back again, I'll just rock a bald head like there's no tomorrow.

One encouraging thing: At the doctor's office I met a daughter/mom team both of whom are surviving cancer. The mom is 93, and I have to tell you she was a beautiful, mindfully intact 93 YO. Both of them battled different forms of cancer over the years but they were both still here and kicking.

As you can tell I'm not feeling fear. I'm cautious but not fearful. This is a far cry from what I felt a months ago. It could be the crocus blooming and daffodils and tulips coming up, but I don't know. Hell, it could be the birds singing every morning.

Whatever the reason, I'm grateful for these past 2 years.

At the risk of my boss reading this....

2008-03-06T12:29:00.001-08:00

I'm lacking internet access at the moment, but that will be remedied soon. Bear with me.

Goals sometimes take longer to realize

2007-12-09T07:08:00.000-08:00

So PA is out yet again after a long stint of insanity that had been building my stress levels up. Work, school, kids, and insane ex living in my house have REALLY blown my blood pressure through the roof. My doctor finally prescribed me a muscle relaxer, but I couldn't get it and tell PA because then I'd never see it again. I was told by my doctor that I have arthritis. Do I need any more medical issues? I think not, but there you go.

So I've had now about 36 hours of no roommate. I've been wondering about the financial aspect of this, but hey protecting my kids' and my safety is more important at the moment. School is over for awhile. I'm not sure when I'll get go back, but like I said safety is WAY MORE IMPORTANT.

I've been bemoaning my luck physical, emotional, and financial, but then I think of other folk who've been in similar situations as mine, and I feel a little comforted. I'm not alone on the misery front. Cancer screws a person financially. I'm not the only one. Addicted exes screw people financially. I'm not alone on that one either. Raise a glass all ye who have felt that one. Emotionally this stings a little, but not as much as what could be if I allowed PA stay here. That goes for physical too. Too many people have felt the insanity that others bring to a situation, and I finally have others who have actually seen with their eyes the incoherence and just plain craziness that he is capable of.

I had to explain the unpredictable behavior patterns of PA to my father during the Confrontation. I had to warn my mother with a very stern voice and a dark look on my face and warning that I will not call the cops until they are out of the house because of the risk factor. That silly bumbling old lady finally figured that out and swooped them up to take them somewhere. The cops were seriously annoyed with his behavior.

I finally had folk see what he was like, and you know the next day after he was bailed out by friends he came to get his stuff and told ME that I could have defused the situation better. I thought I did a damn good job since he was the fused bomb in the room.

So now to school and my after cancer goals...it will have to wait. I live in a fabulous house on a fabulous street. My kids go to a great school and are making friends. For their emotional sake we are not going anywhere. Big Girl Pants will be pulled on, and I will make this shit happen. But it will take a little longer than expected.

MY DAD KICKED MY EX'S ASS

2007-12-07T20:45:00.000-08:00

We're all ok. PA is in jail.

My 66 YO dad kicked his crack smokin', piss drunk, lazy, worthless ass!

Pass me a beer. I feel like celebrating!

Sad News Comes When Least Expected

2007-11-27T18:43:00.000-08:00

I had a good weekend, not the best, not the worst. It was ok. It ended great with Goddess Bodice Ripper's wedding party. I got a notice from my plastic surgeon to set up my one year follow up. THAT is a Good Thing. I got the piano inside. My house is clean, and two of my three christmas trees are up and ready. Yes, I'm a closet Ms. Claus.

My calm happiness was shattered though by a well meaning friend. A mutual friend, my Inspiration, passed away this past Thanksgiving weekend. I will miss her. She was beautiful inside and out. Not to mention she was a fighter (in her own way). The thing about her is that her cancer was less "dangerous" or "concerning" than mine, but her mind set was so much more positive and cheerful, as cheerful as a person whose doctor's advise was so totally and completely unreversably wrong. She however kept people smiling and helped people (myself included) to learn how to cope, relax, and keep going.

I cried, of course, but the tears held more than just mourning for a beautiful friend I won't ever see again. They held fear and anger.

Yes, I'm angry. I get angry EVERY time I look at those stupid pink ribbon things. Of course I know what's on my car. I get angry that people younger than me get this fucked up shit, and I'm TOTALLY grumpy that I got it. I am PISSED that she just died from what was originally stage 1 cancer. And of course I fear for my life. Don't tell me not to. You'll just add fuel to an already out of control fire. A person's cancer is not something to trivialize.

I have a new reason to be thankful and to be cautious. If I seem even more pissy than before, I have good reason. If I seem even more jumpy or out of sorts or overly introverted, I have a good reason. I'll fight it when it becomes a problem, but until then I need to process this. I'm just glad I met her when I did, and I'm glad she's not hurting anymore.

Cheers, Penny.

Circus Peanuts

2007-11-10T20:45:00.000-08:00

As a child I never wanted to run away. That concept just wasn't in me. I'd hear of kids who wanted to run away to join the circus, and I'd think "why?". I thought that until today. Today. November... whatever the day is today. I thought, "I want to run away and join the circus." For bleepin' sakes, I'm 33. Whatever. I feel it strong today, but I might just be hormonal.

I would do it too (if I drank a fifth of vodka and a bottle of tequila and smoked a joint the size of a baby's arm), BUT it would have to be with the delectable Mexican troupe that I saw today. No other circus troupe would suffice. No hairy man-dog trapeze act for me. No no. I want to travel with the long hair, adonis formed, tan skinned lad I saw twirling high about the big top without his shirt on and shiny black skin tight pants. Oh yes. Momma was happy to go to the circus after she saw that fella. Oh believe me. I noticed this guy working as a fully clothed hand WAY before I got to see his EXTREMELY well formed and VERY well controlled body twirling above my head. I clapped at seeing his nigh near nekked body doing nothing yet besides standing there.

I think circuses are getting it right these days. Well sort of. They rely less on silly animal acts which I abhor. Granted they still had tigers, bears, and elephants in which my kids kept telling me that they really liked doing what they were doing. Didn't I see them smiling and singing all of the words to the music? hunh? My Pinkie actually said that to me? Well, I did think Dr. Seuss logic was perfectly cromulent (don't ask if your not a Simpson's fan). So the apple must not have fell to hard from the tree. Anyway it seemed like the Babygirl was trying to rationalize animals being trained to humiliate themselves for her amusement. Bless her pea-pickin' heart. She has a little of me in her!

Back to the nature of modern circuses. They're getting sexy. I guess they're competing with cirque du soleil, and you know what? You'll not hear me complain. Not one little bit.

It was a funny trip. I went with my kids and my neighbor's grandson, whom I've mentioned before. I didn't want to go. I feel like going to the circus is on par with going to a Hannah Montana show. Bless you, Rikki, for being brave enough to take your niblet. Anyhoo, At ten in the morning I bought three children cotton candy and light sword/scepter thingys. I swear I need to have my head examined. I wouldn't let the kiddos eat the candy until the show was going to start, and finally after much whiny and gnashing of teeth, I allowed them their portion of the $4 bag of tooth decay.

The Urghboy ate his portion with such relish that he kept having large portions of the blue stuff sticking straight out from his face thus coloring his face for the rest of the day. He should have been in a movie, it was so silly looking.

Pinkie (ahem) discovered something with the help of her light sword/scepter thingy. She was having too much fun with it. I had to take it away. We were in public for bleeping sake. That's all I'll say about that.

Zilla, I'm glad to say is still not at that stage yet where he feels he's too old for such nonsense. He still gets excited over seeing animals and clowns, and I can still hold his hand while walking down the street and kiss him on the forehead while in public. You know I'm going to treasure these last bits of his 5-9 year old stage. I'll miss it when it's gone.

Anyhoo, I had my fill of good old fashoined family fun/sexy Mexican circus action. I guess there's one good thing about catholics. They sure don't like to ignore their sexualities. They can blend their family times with their good times. We gringos should take note.

Oops. She did it again.

2007-11-01T19:33:00.000-07:00

No, this isn't some Britney blog, but it is about a female. My dog in fact. And I'm still questioning my love for her when I think about it.

You see, Chika has a fondness for things that are harmful to her. She reminds me of so many other characters in my life. Ahhh human... I mean, sentient nature.

A few weeks ago a dear friend gave me some dark, dark chocolate. My favorite kind. The kind that makes my toes curl. You get the idea of where this going don't you? I was sleeping peacefully ( as peacefully as I can) when I heard clickety-clickety of little claws over my hardwood floors. I also heard a couple of things fall over. After a few seconds I realized all was not right with the world, and I jumped from my bed, ran to my school bag, and looked at it. The little bitch had squeezed her head in and wiggled out the dark, dark bar of sweet sinfulness and completely devoured it on my son's bed (she knew I'd kill her if I caught her mid-munching).

SO all night and into the next, my Chi zoomed about the house faster than any speed that a paranoid schizoiphrenic methhead could possibly attain. She proceeded to do hundreds and hundreds of laps ON MY BED throughout the night, jumping on both me and the Girl. She'd stop every now and then to squint her eyes at me and wave a paw in the air like she just don't care.

Saying "No, Chika!" didn't work. It just made her bounce and lick my face more. She was so shaky that everyother lap she'd fall off the bed and take 5 or 6 tries to get back on. The whole time time I kept growling, "git!" at her. That didn't work either, but I've noticed folks addicted speed tend to hear only what they want. Ok. MOST people tend to hear.....

Ah, yes. I'm so glad to own a dog. She's had issues before with chocolate. If you remember the chemo chocolate and the Godiva chocolate incidents of 2006. At one point she had a popcorn experience, and she has just never gone back to it, but for some reason, chocolate is a taste she just can't give up. I wonder if they have chocolate anonymous support groups for masochistic dogs and they're tired frazzled owners.

If you hear of any let me know.

It's the MOST wonderful time of the yeeaarr......

2007-10-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

I need to do this more often! I get so excited for this project every year, and there's no wonder why. I love the gooieness and the mess. I adore toasted seeds with garlic salt. I love making my kids feel warm and tingly inside. I love feeling that way too.

This year is a first in a long time for us. We have a pumpkin for PA. His is the crazy looking one in the lower left. PA's never been around for pumpkin carving (still hasn't), but this year will be a first since Pinkie was a baby that he'll be around for trick or treating. I wonder how he'll handle the crowd, the noise, and the candy frenzy.

I always drink a bunch of coffee before we leave, so I can keep up with the little Zippy Zingers. After that just so I can go to sleep, I drink a few beers. My favorite is stopping at Freestate. Last year I ended up at Bertha's before the long trek back into JOCOland. This year I can just walk across the street. Yay! No driving long distances! At least for trick or treating.

The line up for the squash goes like this:

Pinkie, Zilla
PA, Enarda

I think they're all quite fitting, don't you?

Pinkie can dance!

2007-10-20T13:43:00.000-07:00

Boys and Girls Club had a talent show last Thursday. I'm not big on talent shows especially if they feature other people's children, but PA, Zilla, and myself all went smiling to see the Babygirl strut her stuff on stage.

We sat through many many urban dance routines that had me and PA looking nervously at each other while little 4th graders did these wierd pelvic thrust moves. Hmm...The Girl is not hanging with those cats. I did feel sorry for one school who felt every frikking child needed to be in it and the music needed to be preschool friendly. Wow. That's what they were called. But seriously wow. Either the songs were a little risque or sickeningly childish. Nothing in between. Not really.

Ok. So...after an evening of Rap/Hip hop pounding in our ears we finally got to our Babygirl's routine. Good. Great. Let's get it on! She got out there and they kids lined up with a lane down the middle for someone to dance through. One kid went. Then there was a lull in the action on stage. So Pinkie ran to the middle and flipped herself upside down into a handstand and came up smiling. she pretty much stuck to the front of the stage with her head twisted around to make sure she could check her dance moves with the teacher's. At the end the proudly strutted to the very front and struck a pose, and we knew a star has been born.

She was wearing the starry Goddess t-shirt: You are the hero of your own story.

She rocks even if she's rockin' to Fergie. I'm so proud!

2 down....2 to go

2007-10-20T13:12:00.000-07:00

After the Recharge and a very scary, very early ride home during the very scary thunderstorm/downpour complete with big scary semis passing me every now and then, I got home to find PA actually asleep on the couch. I wasn't expecting him. I never do unless I have to go to school and then he doesn't show up until I've been gone for at least an hour. Whatever. I'm not here to bitch about him necessarily. Well, no I'll still bitch about him.

What I found that morning was a sleeping grown child and a bouncing barking dog. I said hello to the child and pet the pooch, but I noticed something was missing from my routine animal greeting. My cat was not saying hello. Hmmm... I asked the grown child were she was and he looked and called for her. Still no feline. Hmmm. It was pouring rain outside, and our baby kitty was somewhere out there. My heart sunk to my stomach were it proceeded to nauseate my poor tummy.

What happened was that he had some friends over, and they got drunk and rowdy. Our coffee table is broken from a testosterone fueled wrestling match. At some point in time as they went back and forth from the porch and the livingroom, the cat snuck out. Damn cat was probably trying to find peace and quiet. I'm sure Chika was having a panic attack in the Boy's room with all the commotion.

Ohhh. Shit. The kids. What do I do? The kids came home from the GP's house , and their reaction was to be expected. Pinkie started fretting. I swear she can fret like the best of them. I think she gets that from me. It rained all day. I thought surely with the weather being nasty and the kids being tired and bored then the day was going to suck ass. But they both tried to keep positive. Nothing's for certain. Somehow they already know this crazy fact of life.

Sunday we walked through the neighborhood and put up posters begging for the return of our precious puddin-tat. It wasn't a good sign that on one of the poles that we put our flier on was another flier for the same type of cat but gone by that point for a month. I bit my lip and kept going. It's now been a week. I've been to the humane society. No luck there, but I'll keep trying. To bad the REAL owner of the cat hasn't tried looking for her. Hmmm....

Now to pet number 2. Nemo our longest living fish has been fighting some kind of fungal thing. eew. Yesterday I watched the poor fish swim very quickly straight down and smack his face on the ground. That had to hurt. One thought ran through my mind, but since life has dealt a rough one for most of my friends I'll not say what I thought he was doing.

The good side of this is that I'm down to 1 furry stinkball and 1 wet fish. And since I brought almost all of the plants inside(19 so far and already given a few away), I'm glad the number of lives I'm responsible for has dropped even if it's just by 2.

Pinkie Sponge Zilla

2007-09-29T08:01:00.000-07:00

It's been a long tim since I've blogged about kids. I think today is the day. I will now start with the obligatory Mom's Praise for Her Offspring. Shouldn't that be "Outspring"? Or "Squeezes So Hard Your Eyeballs Go Cross"?

My children have great patience while I have lost mine.

Their best friend is a child that I am going to refer as Spongebob because he IS THAT ANNOYING. Ok. I have a heart as cold as ice. Puppies and kitties don't make me melt. Babies scare the bejeebus out of me. Butterflies are ok though.

Spongebob is one of those children that makes at least 4 or 5 attempts at eating your food each and every time he walks through your frontdoor. I can't afford to feed him I wish I could, but right now I just cannot. My cold, unfeeling heart is showing to some of you while to others I just appear pragmatic.

Spongebob also makes loud grating arghs, urghs, grrs, and raspberry noises constantly. He is incapable of refraining from making those sounds. I'm noise sensitive, and when I listen to music, I don't want hear Spongebob's weird gutteral utterences. I'm stressed out, wound tighter than kite string. The English don't even come close. So when I need down time listening to drunken alternative country or smooth world music composed to the sounds of a river, god damn it that's all I want to hear!

I love to watch the kids dancing. Pinkie and Zilla listen to the music's melody and rhythm and create interpretive dances for our amusement. Spongebob is a different story, and I have to admit right now I'm laughing about his antics. He saw the kiddos dancing and thought it was hilarious which brought out a torrent of arhgh-ha-ha-ha-arrhg's. For some reason they always get friends who don't dance as a recreation and their reactions are always so funny.

Spongebob stuck his tongue out and started contorting his body in a fashion that just a few hundred years ago would have had him burned at the stake for being possessed by demons. He was making the Noises too, drowning out the stereo. At the time it annoyed me because the music is what was inspiring my own children to move and we couldn't hear it because of him. I made everyone leave the room so I could work on my project in the peace and quiet of the song "Fuck this Town". I know I was tired. There's no other excuse.

So onto the part where I discuss what seems to me an infinite surplus of patience that resides in my children's souls. Those two people that I brought forth into this world are amazing to me. They accept and love folk for who they are regardless of "differences" that might be there. They are "long suffering". I learned when I was a child that that attribute was a virtue. I lost it somewhere along the line, but I have two role models that live me to take my cues from.

As a side note...they just turned on Spongebob Squarepants.

Nothing like being a grown up

2007-09-19T17:32:00.000-07:00

When acting like the hot, sophisticated, older woman in a class where everyone's at least 10 years your junior....make sure you don't have mustard from your lunch dried on your neck!!!

No, I don't care if I'm classist

2007-09-18T16:22:00.000-07:00

I love this town. I've felt safe here and wanted to raise my babies here. I remember walking late at night after the bars closed by myself and not feeling too uncomfortable. That of course was pre-baby and crazy marriage (10 years ago). This town was so safe and welcoming.

Now I'm pissed and slightly Unnerved. PA was mugged last week. By privileged college boys. Smashed a bottle on his head, kicked him in the ribs a couple of times when he was unconscious on the ground, and took off with his wallet. They took off with our rent. Effing effers.

It's not bad enough to have a relationship hanging on by a monofilament, but add the financial shit (and shit it is), I'm about to have another nervous breakdown. I can not afford that. I don't know anyone who can really. There is one lesson that I learned and I've really tried not to accept it but I'm weak and now I don't like/trust frat boys. Point out more than a few good ones, and I'll change my mind. Ok. I had those feelings while in college, but it's been so long, and I forgot about the little trustfund bastards.

You'd think their parents would instill a conscientious philosophy like ummm...don't steal especially from the poor. I know after a point you can't do a thing about it, but I swear if my kids turn out like that I'll spank the crap out of them. I don't care how old they (or I) might be.

Aahhh. Panic attack over. Breathing coming back to normal. Not a drop of beer in the house.

Hmmm...Panic attack coming back.

What a Stressed Out Family Needs

2007-09-02T07:25:00.000-07:00

I've been stressed out. This week especially. I usually sleep 7-8 hours, but this past week I'd be lucky to 5 hours at night that were sporadic at best. So after my 4th night in a row of my laying on my bed instead of sleeping, I got up for a mini vacation for my stressed out family. We went to Worlds of Fun.

I have so many fond memories of that place when I was young. My family having the rare moments of fun together, long sweaty lines of people, weird paper parasol/flower things, fistfuls of gummy worms, the Orient Express, my first make out session was on top of the old river boat during a church youth outing. Seriously, the sexiest place was church youth group.

Yesterday provided more fond memories that even a bitchy strangerlady from Iowa could not squelch. Neither of my children bickered. My folks and PA got along great. Me and PA got along great. There weren't that many people there on such a beautiful day. It was the perfect day to go.

One thing I love about amusement parks is that you can test your fear level or maybe not in some cases. This was my kids' first time in an establishment not run by carnies and that had rides large enough for some serious liability insurance policies. I can be pragmatic at times.

My son went on the Mamba which is BIG. I have a fear of heights, and I went up it without looking around and clutched so hard to the car that my hand hurt afterward. I was too frightened to turn and look at my son let alone anything else. I can just imagine what he was feeling during that ride. He didn't make a sound even though PA let out a few choice words on the initial dropoff. I'm so proud of him (Zilla), but he and I agree that we're not going on that one again. He's smart. He know his limits.

Pinkie's turn for feeling the fear of death came towards the end of the day when she felt slightly left out and decided to join in for the wooden rollercoaster. It's not as high as the previous, but it's daunting for a 6 YO. We got up to the line , and RIGHT before we were to step into the car, she had a Nervous Pee Attack. She bounced up and down till me and her left through the chicken gate.

I don't care. I'm not one to push if they're not ready.

So, I got her to Granma and waited for Zilla, PA, and Grampa to return, so I could go on it with someone. Well, luck would have it that Granma and Pinkie returned before the boys showed up, and Pinkie decided that she would go on it this time.

Now, I don't push, but if they feel they are ready for something like a thrill ride then fine they can go.

We get on the contraption, and all was fine except for some teasing from PA. It started. PA informed her that she could scream if she wanted, and I confirmed that it was true. I even scream from time to time. All was shakey but fine. Then the first dip...not a sound. I kept my arms around the poor girl to give her some comfort. I couldn't really see her face, but I should have realized from the lack of sound she thought she was going to meet her maker.

I know, we were sitting next to and behind her, so why that fear?

We get to the end after what seemed an eternity of my daughter locked in the grips of fear. The train of death stops, and we exit. She starts to cry. PA picked up the poor frightened little girl who then screamed for Momma. Damn! Mom guilt sets in! What do I do?! We buy the picture!

Worlds Of Fun has a delightful practice of taking pictures of people whilst on the rides. The picture for this ride shows the true essence of what those few minutes were like for my poor Pinkie. Of course, we all laughed because honestly the girl had the best expression on her face. She clenched her teeth the WHOLE time while grasping the front of the car even though my arms were around her.

So much for Mom Guilt. The picture now has a place of honor on the shelf in my kitchen. I'm so proud of my dysfunctional family! All of us looked at our fears in the eye. I and my fear of heights, Pinkie and Zilla and their impending doom, and PA and his fear of hanging out with my parents. We all successfully had a good time despite those fears!

And I got 10 hours of sleep!

School supplies

2007-08-22T18:23:00.000-07:00

Oohhh. I forgot about how much supplies for art classes cost. I cringed when I bought the kids' school supplies, and that was for two people. And it was WAY less than what I'm going to half to pay for one class. Damn college.

I shouldn't complain. I know I'm lucky. I have no major diseases, nor does anyone in my family. I'm not paying 2 grand for one class, but I'm a frugal, frugal woman, and I had to finish off a bottle of wine after I balanced my checkbook. I'm not worried about finishing school. It won't take too long. I'll get my internship (slavedom), and then I will be on my way to starting a positive period of my life after a stint of personal recession.

All's I can say is breathe deep and pass me the bottle again, please.

And maybe hand me a piece of chocolate cake. I need it.

Grumpisaurus cooled off

2007-08-15T17:20:00.000-07:00

The AC is working again. I had a wonderful facial/massage today. I didn't have to read about someone's medical yuckiness. The animals didn't shred anything today. PA was beaving himself. My kids were listening and dancing to good music!

Thank Goddess for fabulous days!

Even if they were over 100 degrees.

Collective Sigh Heard Around Town

2007-08-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

I know I'll hear it. Tomorrow starting at 7:00 am, it'll start. The collective parental sigh of relief. Summer is over.

I love summer. I love eating, drinking, and living outdoors. I love seeing near naked people running. I love cicadas humming in the trees outside my house. I love fresh vegetables out of the garden.

What I don't love and will never love is having 2 bored children living under the same roof as me while the temperature outside remains 100 at 9 pm. Living with another adult who gets bored easily and behaves like a child is bad enough. BUT 2 whiny, overheated, lazy children drive me crazy. It's after 10 pm, and I'm still fighting with them on bedtime, but it's hotter than hell in here, so I understand. AC better not be on the fritz.

I love the children, mind you. The beginning of summer, springtime, fall, and the beginning of winter are awesome to have them around, but when the weather gets extreme they become devil spawn. Whiny devil spawn. The worst kind because not only are they pestering each other but then they whine at me after the inevitable hit/kick/scream outcome.

I don't do whinese. I refuse to learn it. My favorite reaction is asking the whiner what he/she did to deserve the said hit/kick/scream outcome. I always find out that the whiner started the pestering that escalated into such a volatile state.

Bill O'Reilly doesn't consider bomb explosions in Iraq to be newsworthy, but maybe he'll consider the explosive temperaments of PinkZilla to be. He's another topic of heated disgust, but I don't want to talk about serious matters on such a hot night. That will just make me grumpy instead of annoyed, but right now I feel like we hit the lower levels of hell.

Damn, I bet the AC went out. I need a popsicle.

Spiritual Epiphany

2007-08-07T18:07:00.000-07:00

Click the title above to find god.

2007-08-02T15:45:00.000-07:00

Remember if you're going to have bumper stickers on your car...make sure they make sense together.

On the way to work I got behind a little car who was being driven by a socially conscience person. I first started reading the sticker on the left.

"If you want a country run by religion move to Iran.'

There was some insignificant sticker to the effect of being proud of your offspring for scholarly prowess. Then the sticker on the right:

"Free Tibet."

hmmm...

weddings/divorces

2007-07-31T11:30:00.000-07:00

I've come across the both of them recently, and It's got me to thinking. I don't belong at weddings. I don't like them. Divorce was easy for me. I love my lawyer. Don't remind me who my roommate is.

I mean my little cousin's wedding was cute. I guess...but pink and white goes a little far. Especially when the groom wears a white/white striped tux. There were cute little candleholders w/ the word "love" carved into them. Pink and green flowery crap draping everything. Pink chopsticks as party favors (ultracute). The sermon (because there always has to be one in a religious ceremony) was rife with man cleaving to the wifey and references to adam and eve. Typical stuff.

I brought a book. I had to. You see, I naturally scoff at these events. Even before I was married I was known for my disdain for them. Yes I know, I shouldn't have got married in the first place. It's just not for me.

I was good up until the end when the Officiate announced the couple with one male name. I started clapping like everyone else. It'd be rude not to, but then I let out "Yay! She lost her identity!" My brother who's more known for rude outbursts told me to shut up. yeesh.

See I feel a woman loses her identity not with a name change but with a complete erasure of her given name under the romanticized guise of "oneness ordained by god". I just snorted. That's kinda hard to do when you're stuffed up too. It makes me giggle to think of the phrase "cleaving to the wifey". I always thought of men as being needy. I guess this just reinforces it without making them feel weak (for shame!).

Marriages are on my mind. I don't wish for them to go bad. If that was case, One Toothbrush, I wouldn't even go near your celebration. I just can't stand traditional and outside influence on something so personal. I understand partnerships. I'm all about honest, cooperative relationships that are positive to both sides. blah blah.

Yesterday a dear friend came over to discuss his marital situation and get the number of my lawyer. I was the best man at his wedding. I was 7.5 months pregnant and wearing heels. This wedding was a little like the Birdcage. Freaks of all kinds on the groom's side, and mormons on the bride's side. I'm sure you've heard of this story before.

Well the interesting gooey parts keep going. He caught her cheating. Mind you, they had an open marriage, so there's no need for the deceit. She just couldn't help it. You see he doesn't like master/slave relationships. She had a master. Not him.

When I'm around the Ladies I feel prude, but I have to tell you around them I feel downright Puritan. I have no energy for more than one at a time. She juggled six. Her stamina is amazing.

Whatever...he's getting a divorce now. Not because she slept with other men, but that she lied about it. I guess that disproves my needy man theory.

No more teachers. No more books.

2007-07-25T20:17:00.000-07:00

At least for 2.5 weeks. The last day of class for the summer. For the past couple of class periods we've been tortured by dreaded classroom presentations. After chemo I've lost most of what little patience I had, and now...well the best way I can I describe it is...think of driving in a 40 mph zone behind a weaving old person with cataract glasses going at least 15 mph under while you have have HAVE to go to the bathroom and your 2 usually sweet, mild mannered children are booming songs about Stan the Lavatory Man and songs about nibbling on mice feet in the back seat.

Ok. It's not quite THAT bad, but you get my drift...I'm seriously impatient.

I carpooled with the sweetest 19 girl to school. She didn't remind me of myself at that age. I said she was cute not surly and drunk. It is this girl that the whole female population in the class was thankful for. Little angel that she is.

Her presentation was the last one. We were all itchin' to get the hell out of there. Even the teacher was excited to get away. She came up to the front of the class to do the required Power Point Presentation. She had a cheerleader in the back encouraging her to go as fast possible. She started her presentation complete with an interviewed of a professional designer. It was this professional designer that stopped everything in its tracks.

On one of the pages, she had the designer's picture. He was delightful to look at, and every female (teacher included) agreed loudly that he was beautiful. mmm...the presentation slowed down from there, and any and all questions were directed to the man who was interviewed. Topic be damned.

"How old is he?" "Does he have a wife/girlfriend?" "Could you just turn the page back one more time?"

Ahhh...it was a great way to finish an evening summer class. I mean seriously I love sitting on my porch as soon as I get home almost until I go to bed. I certainly didn't want to hole my summer evenings up in a meatlocker of a classroom. So yah after sitting through boring student research presentations, it was great to see the entire female population bonding over one sultry picture of a steamy man.

I just felt bad for the guys in there.

eeh. Screw 'em.

There's always room

2007-07-18T19:55:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I really blogged intellegently. I have no excuse except that I just don't have it in me. Processing things come at very odd times and when there's no computer around like driving down the higway at breakneck speeds. Thank goddess I'm not around a computer 24/7. I could just imagine what I'd be like, I'd be more socially inept practically autistic.

Right now I'm trudging along as best as I can. Please don't think me rude if I want to sit quietly. I'm acting childish. I know that. I keep telling myself that this isn't a lot, but I'm wondering how you single moms have balanced work, school, boyfriends, children, and personal time. Not to mention my masochistic ass wants gardening, pets, and getting in shape shoved in there somewhere. I know it can fit in there...

Wow. some of you have PHD's.

How many hours are there? Seriously. I know I can squeeze something else into my schedule. You see right now I'm procrastinating a final project/presentation I have to give on Monday. I haven't really done a damn thing on it. And here I am complaining about it like some college kid without a complicated family situation or a job that wreaks havoc on my neck.

I am getting a new desk, so I don't want anyone thinking I'm being...ahem...problematic. I learned that word in art school. It was very popular when discussing aspects to a project that just didn't work properly. See! We had to use large words when making pretty things (or in my case thought provoking things)

My stuff just isn't pretty. It's delightful, but you wouldn't put it on a Chick-lit book cover or anything. It's too visceral, and there's not enough shopping bags. But art is not the topic. My procrastination and time (in)efficiency is.

Hmm...I'm taking suggestions from the peanut gallery on how to properly balance all of these aspects.

Sounds of a screen door slamming

2007-07-11T08:06:00.000-07:00

I finally have internet again! I feel like I've missed a bunch since I moved back in. Damn my OCD need to get my house perfect. I know it will never happen. I'm not delusional. I just get bored and antsy and I'm very visually oriented, so I must get it perfect.

We're moved in, and we're settling into our stench so speak. We're creating ruts on the borrowed futon while watching the tv a delightful goddess gave us. Little did she know that ours was going downhill fast, very fast. Thanks, GB.

Oh, yes. Thanks, Bertha for futon.

I'm learning a little more about life since I moved in.

I've learned that people who act grumpy towards cats will receive the majority of their affection. Freyja is the newest member of the family. She was brought home by the large kid that looks like an adult male. I'll get her picture up asap.

At night when I read before bedtime I have a kitten on my chest and a dog on my lap. Right before that I have 2 kids scrambling for momtime, and one large adult child snuggling as close as possible. There's nothing like knowing your loved. It's warm and tingly. Sometimes it's suffocating, but that's what "Mommy's Private Time" is for.

The next thing I learned is that "they" make blue briefs in adult sizes. My neighbors learned that too. I thought the man was wearing my son's underwear which he pooped in, but no, it was his and he didn't poop in them. I'm just so glad my kids got a chance to be exposed to one of the more colorful folks here in Lawrence in a rather safe environment. Gina's Kevin further proved that that they make "tighty blueys" whilst at Lu's party last weekend. Pull your pants up, Boy!

Colored briefs are too much like underoos. Men, don't wear them unless they're in perfect condition. Moth holes on a droopy ass are not attractive. I swear when my underwear gets moth eaten or ill-formed I'll rid the drawer of them. I just ask for the same consideration even if I never see them. Just remember what your momma said about clean underwear and accidents.

I know I've learned more, but there's a cat climbing my curtain. damn cat.

1 year

2007-05-27T07:24:00.000-07:00

It's been one year. One long LONG year. Actually one long 16 months, but who's counting? I've been through the most mentally and physically changing experience that I've ever had the pleasure(?) to endure. My political and spiritual beliefs have been hardened since I've been living here. The desire to control my life's outcome is...how shall I say...more fiery. I've been working through depression and an uncertainty about my life that brings me to tears when I think of my kids.

My breast MRI from last week came out clear. I figured that since I didn't hear from them until a few days later when a letter came in the mail. The morning of the letter, me and the Judybat talked over our most feared words.

Interesting. Not so simple. Don't like the looks of it.

We talked about how we didn't hear the phone ring. During those times right after a test you're nervous and scared. I know my chances are around 84% survival for the next 10 years, but that 16% brings me to my knees. Someone has to be that. There has to be population control. That's what disease is for. So I'm still scared, but the further I get out I feel a little better.

Something good!

I move on Friday into an adorable house with garden! Tomorrow PA paints the kitchen and livingroom, and we go get the other colors. The landlord is paying us back for the costs of the paint. So it's not all doom and gloom with me! We're still alive and kicking, and we can't wait to get back to a town we consider HOME.

Time to Wait

2007-05-21T13:46:00.000-07:00

This past week has been busy. I've readying my family for a move and cleaning up this house after a week or so of no old folks. I got a call Saturday from Judy saying that they'd be home on Monday. I was expecting them home on Friday. Oops. That meant clean clean clean like a banshee before said banshee comes home and my hearing gets noticeably worse.

Today I finally got what I wanted, an MRI. ooo. I know your jealous.

I really didn't want one, but you know...better safe than sorry. I think I've been poked by needles at least a thousand times since my conception. Sometimes the nurse is an effing saint/aritist poking my sad little veins quickly, cleanly, and painlessly. Other times…not so much. Today my Nurse Betty was a rather SLOW LMH nurse who couldn't figure out how to coax my tired, angry veins into plump, happy, and excited-to-be-stuck-again ones. She wasn't my favorite by far, but then she didn't blow out anything. It's really the small things in life that make me smile.

Lying in the tube on my stomach with my boob(s?) in the boobbox was interesting as usual. I learned that hospitals think that earplugs and earphones blaring in Star 102 actually shut out the noise of the contraption. They don't, not one bit, and unfortunately I couldn't drown out the radio either. I still don't know what's worse...pop music or deafening metallic banging. Thankfully I'm part of that delightful generation that suffers from premature hearing loss, and my memory is still foggy from last year's drugfest, so maybe I won't remember why my ears seem to hear a little less later on.

Now that's over with. I wait. I'm waiting to move, waiting hear back on this adventure, and waiting for the old folks to come today and holler about something. At least I don't have wait to further damage my ears.

Little bit of heaven...little bit of hell

2007-05-09T06:55:00.000-07:00

I've complained constantly about my stint here in Shawnee. Yes, I would prefer to live elsewhere and we all know where that elsewhere is. It is after all the only place I've found in Kansas to live and raise offspring, but there's something here that I'm going to miss terribly.

Monday after a long and cranky day at work (no one's fault) I came home and opened all of the windows. The sun started shining after a very long absence, and the temperature was perfect. The last window I opened was my bathroom window. This window has a great view of the woods, the neighbors' now huge pond, and the ten horses running on the pasture surrounding the pond. I've watched hawks, foxes, deer, possums, horses, dogs, cats, birdgalore, snowstorms, and rainstorms from this window.

When I opened the window a cool, sweet breeze blew in giving me what is the closest thing to a spiritual epiphany that I've ever had. The air was filled with birds and frogs and nothing else. There were no human sounds anywhere. The animals were alive and happy that the rain had let up, and the world was beautiful again. They were singing their hearts out.

I sat down. I breathed. I listened. I took all that clamor in.

I swear there's no heaven except after a storm when the euphoria that comes after sets in. That's the only heaven I've ever seen, and the only one that anyone can convince me of. I couldn't help smiling and was almost sad that I was moving.

Then I heard cars, lawnmowers, and the garage door opening. People were coming home from there daily commutes and starting up their noisy machines. I heard the proverbial record scratch. ugh. Time to go back to "life".

I love this place but hate it also. But I guess you can't have it perfect. That'd be heaven, and like I said I don't believe that place exists.

As an FYI…I don't believe in hell either…unless you count Crawford, Texas.

Happy Birthday Old Man River!

2007-04-30T15:04:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-28T17:48:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-23T15:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-23T15:00:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-04-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

Boob Squish

2007-04-17T07:47:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-17T07:35:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-13T21:46:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-10T19:46:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-04-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-08T19:16:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-07T14:13:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-05T14:12:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-04-04T06:39:00.000-07:00

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.

What's your favorite Disney movie?

2007-03-31T06:27:00.000-07:00

I was asked that question yesterday. My imediate response was "The Jungle Book". I love the music. It's so positive, fun, and danceable. It's not swooshy. I hate swooshy movie music. The song I was thinking of in particular was " I want to be human too". The asker was thinking "The Bear Neccesities". Hmm…Two damn good songs.

Fastforward to this morning.

I ran away to the bathroom to get away from bats and ogres that lurk in my home. yes. I'm bitchy too, but I could minimize the probability of an episode if I hide. Stress was bubbling up in my stomach and my teeth were getting achy from clenching them. Then in pops :

Look for the Bear neccesities
the simple bear neccesities
don't worry about your problems
or your strife

I started singing outloud in the bathtub. I'm a bather not a showerer. ahhh. It's such a bouncy happy go lucky song. The stress was brought down to a simmer, and after a few moments was gone. It's the silly things in life that keep me going.

Now I'm going to go tackle that whole "needing a home" thing.

George and Mr. Toad

2007-03-26T06:37:00.000-07:00

A quick note about pets…

Toads found outside DO NOT make good pets. Beetles made to live in a small aquarium together will go batty and one will end up dead.

However, it is now warm enough for the critter to go out to the woods, thus leaving the cramped aquarium empty for said toad. Or at least that's what my kids thought. The poor toad looked so miserable and scared. It was as if he was begging me to free him from my son's determined grasp and let him go back home. I couldn't refuse his plea. He was cute after all.

You know I love her but…

2007-03-24T09:48:00.000-07:00

I've gotten hollered at for not blogging, but I haven't had the time to either read or post. This crazy thyroid med is not only making me chubby, but it's also making me extremely productive artistically speaking. It's amazing how much I've accomplished these past few weeks. Cleanliness is still far away, but so is my godliness. I'm working on my goddessness first.

Ok. First order of business.. thank you to who came to my birthday dinner or gave me a call. I had a wonderful time!

Second. It has officially been one year. I was asleep and getting my tit cut off. Now I'm a hairy, two-bumped woman again. Thank you cosmetic surgery! Mrs. Edwards has had a reccurrence. I'm a little freaked out about that. I don't know her of course, but it hits close to home if you can understand.

Issues are still the same. The most current episode of insanity happened this morning. The Judybat after repeating, "I don't need this. I don't need this." , then yelled at me "Git behind me, Satan!" Ahhh…Saturday morning at my house. Oh. Uh…it was over me not liking bleach getting on clothes. Ok. I yelled at her for it, but I was across the house and had to yell through a very important videogame, one radio, and a dishwasher. Anyway Satan attacks her through "Witch" Enarda when "Witch" Enarda tells her not to do something. Fuck.

When did I become a witch? Oh yes. this morning right after she told me.

See. Life is too interesting at the moment to really be able to concentrate and opine about things. Maybe when things are a little less crazy around here (ahem) and the Harpy of Kansas isn't screeching my direction, I'll be able to concentrate and write something deeply profound.

Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy…I mean Enarda

2007-02-14T06:39:00.000-08:00

I had my 6 months out from chemo appointment on Monday. All's good now, next month
I'll celebrate Pinkie's birthday, my birthday, and my 1 year anniversary of being cancer free (one tit less)!

Plastic replica does not a tit make. First of all because there's a missing nipple, but mostly because the feeling is gone.

I've been feeling down because of everything that's been happening to everyone these past couple of months. Not to mention living with the biggest stressors in my life. I haven't been able to sleep and my emotons have shut down regularly to stop the screaming in and out of my head.

Last night I had a turn. a mood swing if you will. I thought of every beautiful thing outside of my control instead of the ugly. I thought of the extremes in beauty that art and craft have to offer. I thought of distant thunderstorms rolling through the prairies of Kansas and Colorado and giving a drink to the life that dwells there. I thought of coral reefs and the life that surrounds them. I thought of bright green leaves and deep dark moist earth. And I thought of how I don't care if some of my friends abhor that word.

Last of all I thought of what scared me most as a child. The infinite and repetition. The space between atoms. The fact that atoms (chemical compounds of the universe) exist in everything (does that mean diety is all things?) and transfer to other things when the original host expires. I thought of interconnections, seeming chaos, and cycles. I know I've skimmed this subject before, but it helps to remind myself and others that things are connected and temporal.

Shit might be the flavor of life for a while, but it will soon taste like roasted duck with roses and nasturtiums. Weird combo, but I'm hungry and I still have 45 minutes till I can eat. Damn thyroid meds.

Whatever. I feel peaceful. PA and Judybat seem like small gnats to me right now.

2007-02-03T07:53:00.000-08:00

I think I found Zilla's perfect pet. I know he's little now, but maybe in time he'll reach a full Godzilla height.

Now if I can just break it to the Judybat and Oldman that we'll be getting a new member to the family.

Mixed

2007-01-06T12:46:00.000-08:00

There's lots of mixes in the world. Cake mixes. Bread mixes. Spice mixes. Remixes. My daughter's fashion style comprises of mixing stripes, polkadots, and animal patterns in one outfit. Very colorful and very much like her great-grandmother on my momma's side. I learned from her that it's ok to wear rainbow plaid with black and white horsetooth. And polyester is the choice of fabric for fine ladies everywhere. She rocked.

This past week has been painful. You all know I had surgery on Tuesday. I don't know if all of you were aware that I was having a biopsy done on my thyroid. I had a complex issue with the cyst. ew. I know that's gross. Anyways. Friday, I waited patiently enough to get the results. I finally received them at 4:30 in the afternoon. As of today (the same as last 3-24-06) I am cancer free!

Enarda= 2 cancer=0

Booyah!

Few hours later I talked with Yaya (other grandma). She had a biopsy on the same day and was awaiting the prognosis. Guess what. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Fuck. Another year. I'm gonna stay positive, but with me getting it, my yoga instructor dying from it, Yaya getting it, and another friend's momma getting it, I'm getting REAL annoyed with our science community not being able to figure out what in the FFFFF is going on.

PA's momma has diabetes and a host of other diseases that make it harder for a 70 YO woman to live life comfortably, and now she gets to add another on the list. However, my momma the Judybat RN said that they've pulled people out of becoming sows' earbags before and they could certainly do it with her.

????
Don't ask...I have no clue what that meant exactly. Except that they've done near miracles.

So as you can see my emotions are pretty mixed up right now. I'm not sure how to feel. If I feel relief then I feel like I'm being insensitive. If I start fretting then my stomach and everyone around me suffers. I'm a drama queen at home. Don't tell me how to feel either. I'll get annoyed. I'm just gonna keep my eye out for that bluebird of happiness and maybe its cousin, the redbird of health, will come and stick around for us all this year.

New Years Resolution: less scars more tats

2007-01-02T03:25:00.000-08:00

Here I go. About to walk out the door to start my year off. This year I will kick the 84 kinds of ass I was told I kicked last year. I will make sure that the asses are easier to kick. As I see it, I maybe losing a thyroid, but I'm gaining two ta's.

Snuggle up and give it a kiss

2006-12-20T19:46:00.000-08:00

We have 2 new members in my little family. Their names are George and Kelly. They both have six legs and mandables that Bruce Campbell would be jealous of. They're big and black and shiny. They're beetles. My Boy put his name in a raffle where the prizes were 5 crawdaddys. He won. however one died last night. The other winners got to them first, so instead of having one large crawdaddy, we are blessed with 2 large beetles.

I can hear the eeewwws from Johnson County.

I'm glad to have these things instead of the other. And it's not because it grosses out grandma either. I already have one tank of watery life. I don't need another. Now I have this terrarium thing that completely encloses the lifeforms inside, AND I don't have to buy food. I just have to supply tree bark and water, and since we live next to a forest....wood smorgasborg! Cheap and contained! Slightly gross for the old folks. What more can I ask out of a new pet and habitat?

Hell Yah! to all and to all a good night!

2006-12-20T06:45:00.000-08:00

I went to another Christmas party one night after the Goddess Christmas party. I'm tired. I'm getting old. I'm alive, and thankfully I'm still learning about myself and others. Like this: Goddesses are WOMEN! The girls at this last party are just that girls. Young and immature even for their ages. Almost all are English majors. Some seriously ruin the sexy librarian fantasy.

I learned a few things last night.
1. Virgin 26 YO who is afraid of sex and/or intimacy will seem infinitely more immature than Fiddler 26 YO who enjoys both of those things.
2. Virgin 26 YO wears Big Boob shirts but runs from sexy little Adrian Brody lookalike!???!
3. Knitting at a drinking party should be banned. It's too dangerous and a bit of a wet blanket.
4. My 15 year highschool reunion is next year.
5. That makes me an "adult".
6. I had to sit in the "adult" room where the 20 somethings were afraid to go. Kinda like their sex fear but funnier.
7. I am soooo glad I'm an "adult". I'm not afraid of sex. I'm not afraid of intimacy. I've been that way since teenage years.
8. Dancing should not be a thin cover up of a taught phobia.
9. Grumpy-pusses should not go to Christmas parties. They kill the holiday frivolity with their smelling of pooh everywhere they look. Go home, take laxative, blow your nose, and watch that stupid romantic comedy.
10. Fuck your idea of looks and age. Your gorgeous and everyone knows it! So let it hang out and jiggle those Christmas Tits!

Not all of the girls are prude. Some are seriously "I don't remember his name but his tatoo is cool". Ah, youth. They'll figure it out. Until then they'll run towards bad or away from good. Some will just run until their prince comes and they get married and never have to worry about life/love again.

Oh, wait. Sorry, that was mean. Back to Christmas Spirit and all that.

I just love being an adult (like I'm really that smart about relationships). While I saw 2 good friends from highschool and one great woman (Fiddler 26 YO), I still missed you grown up, gorgeous, intelligent, sassy fucking women that I celebrated with on Monday!

I heart yous!

Warning: mood swing

2006-12-18T06:25:00.000-08:00

I woke up with the Shitty Life Blues this morning. Actually I went to bed with them. Blah. It took a full half hour sitting in the bathtub breathing and thinking before I remembered something small that lifted my spirits and energy level.

I am alive.

I have wonderful blessings in my life. I know and am loved by wonderful people. I get bored and amused easily. That keeps things interesting. Guess life can't be too crappy when you're fed, clothed, sheltered, loved, and needed.
not to mention breathing.

Can't wait for the Christmas party. See you all there!

Poisoned Bechemal

2006-12-17T06:58:00.000-08:00

I love my mother, but she's crazy. She's making me crazy. She's made all my brothers crazy. And their wives and old girlfriends. My old boyfriends and PA would be inlcuded in that too.

I had dinner with her and the kiddos on Friday night. Her persistent whining and nagging prompted me to take her to a restaurant that I knew had great food, but had "elements" I knew she would find disturbing. We went to a Palestinian owned place. Muslim Palestinian not Christian. I have to make the distinction here because it's a small but important difference in that culture that I don't believe she knows about. She would be happy if they were all wiped off the planet so the Isrealis could take over completely thus expediating a jesus cameo.

Ok. Back to the story.

They (the restaurant) know me there and proceeded to give me my usual table. A family came in behind us. The regular "salaam" greeting between the host and the family followed while my mother looked on with apparant disgust that over the course of the evening grew into outright fear. I sat quietly giggling inside. I know, it's a sick humor that I have, but she's silly.

She kept staring at the family and the waitstaff and the decorations. Ooo. She was angered by a poster about Jerusalem that hung near our table. How dare they! I guess she forgot that these people lived there before the Jews and consider it just as holy, and she doesn't understand that it's a type of protection in very conservative predominantly Christian county.

I'm going back to the fear topic. She didn't look afraid just hateful, but I noticed she whispered "Praise Jesus. Thank you Jesus." while we waited for our food, she asked about the owner, about the arabic grocery store 2 doors down, whether or not they were jewish or muslim, and if that building down the street was a post office. I answered her Q's best I could and then ended it with a "Mom, there's the police station right across the street. You're safe." "Am I?" was her retort. Wow. If we were in Nazi Germany she would have been acting like this towards Jews. When the food came she picked it all apart and refused to eat anything that had a sauce on it.

I'm sorry, but all her actions stink of paranoia. Like she thinks they were trying to poison her or trick her mind with some muslim potion.

All these sides to the Great Human Drama, and I only get to view just this side. People people people. What are we to do with you?

Some traditions are best left behind

2006-12-10T07:22:00.000-08:00

Last night I almost felt that holiday cheer I keep hearing about. You know the one that consists of sugar plum fairies, bright shiny packages, and cut down trees. It takes great while for that Christmasy feeling to enter my crusty soul. It almost got there. I wrapped presents, and that usually puts me in the mood. The problem was I wanted the kids to experience a KC Christmas, so we went to Crown Center and the Plaza.

Don't ever do this on a Saturday night. I knew it was going to be bad when the traffic around that area was clogged worse than my pooper mid-chemo. Crown Center was packed, and I had no liquor to calm my anti-social, anti-ultra-American-Consumerism tendencies.

Not only the crowd bothered my sensitive nerves. There is a ginormous Christmas cone thing that dangles from the ceiling. What could possibly be more Christmasy than a 2 ton tree covered with ornaments hovering menacingly over your head as you eat? It reminded me of the pressure to make every Christmas the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER. Do it or the tree will smash you flatter than crepe suzette. Merry Christmas.

We escaped there with only candy. That was good. However leaving the place was about as painful as pooping mid-chemo. It took ten full minutes to exit the parking garage. I'm claustrophobic. I hate parking garages especially ones made before my time on this planet and are made for people shorter than 5 ft tall.

Now it's 7:17 pm. It takes maybe ten minutes to get from Crown Center to the Blahza if you hit every light imaginable. We got there at 7:49 pm. Every fucking Christmas fanatic was out there doing the exact same thing. And on top of it a few morons were causing wrecks to slow up the hell of driving thru The Blahza even more. Another ten minutes and we got away from there with only skirting the outside of The Blahza.

I mentioned I had no liquor, right? The kids were all hopped up on sugar. The sound in the back seat was deafening. Ahh Christmas carols sang by chillins who love 'em but don't know the lyrics.

I'm proud of myself. I cussed other drivers by using only a few profanities. We got home, watched Spongebob, pet the pooch, and I drank a bottle of wine. It ended up good. But I still wish I was Jewish.

Lo, and God will smite thee for thy shoes.

2006-12-08T06:30:00.000-08:00

My favorite Mother story involves shoes. Back in the day (college) my mom decided that I needed new shoes , and that she was going to provide them for me. She was generous in that she took me with her so I could pick out my shoes. The story goes like this:

One cold Saturday morning the Judybat and Old Man came out for a parental loving gesture. There was a basketball game going on, so Old Man was more concerned with that instead of the lunacy that followed. This was the time when the Rivermart was a mall and not a hotel. Old Man stayed out in the main hall listening to the game while the Judybat and I looked shoes.

Since I'm an extremely picky lady I slowly walked the store, conscientiously surveying the wares. I came to the Converse section. I love those shoes. Yes, that dates a person, but who cares? I looked for my color (black) and size. Great! My shoes were there. My Mother was dismayed. "Those are men shoes!" "No, look, mom. See? Men's, women's, and European sizes. It's ok. It's unisex."

Big mistake I used the "s" word. My first year at college she noticed a small hickey on my neck and treated me like the whore I was for the entire Christmas break. I think she was just jealous cuz my sexlife was great and interesting. Hers consisted of sex with only one man for a lifetime. YUCK!

Ok. So I walked around the ailse and noticed walking shoes. Great! The walk up KU's hill demands sensible walking shoes. I thought I was being smart, and that she would notice and compliment me on my very mature purchase. No. She was distraught now.

"I don't know what's wrong with kids these days. Girls want to look like boys. Men want to look like women. THAT'S why God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah." Notice the diminutive on the "girl" reference.

"Mother! I do not think that God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah just because I wanted to but these shoes!"

Please understand my volume levels. I started the statement out at a very strained whisper and ended in yelling it. I was also stomping across the store up to the counter and practically threw the shoes on the counter. I ended the tyrade with pointing at the shoes and yelling "I want to buy THESE shoes!" at the poor cashier. The entire store was staring at me and my Mother. She would not look up she just kept her head down and whispered over and over, "Just shut up. Just shut up."

I love that story. I have many, many, many more. It's kinda funny. She thought I was sleeping with everything. She probably thought I was doing things non-human. I wonder at what people were telling her about the dormitory I lived. You know all the orgies and drug parties. Well, ok. We did have those, but we were kids and no one got hurt. I wonder if she thought I had turned gay. I had been accused of that by straight and gay because of wearing things such as sensible shoes. I made many lesbians angry because I wasn't gay. False advertisement. I guess. I love ambiguity. It messes with people.

INCONCLUSIVE Hairy Santa Fun

2006-12-07T06:48:00.000-08:00

"Inconclusive" is what doctor # 7 said about the bubble on my neck. I was worried both doctors # 6 and # 7 were going to have to operate on me at the same time. However, he's going to check me out in a month. That seems like an eternity to me that I know will go in a flash. I'm beginning to hate doctors. I already hate hospitals.

On the lighter side of things...I love my hair. Thank you, Bertha, for the wonderful color! You deserve an Oprah moment on the subject of female social hubs, connections, support, and friendship.

Santa Claus! I'm trying to get a very kid friendly party together complete with a St. Nick. I think it will be at LuLu's, that infamous home of The King and absolutely perfect place for any gathering of women with their kids. Anyhoo...It will be on Friday the 22nd. We haven't discussed time. There will be little gifty baggy things for the youngsters, and some spirits for the Goddesses and any Humble Servants that might want to attend. POTLUCK! Bring yummies. I adore any holiday cookie things with jam, but you can make what you will. I do have one stipulation though. No Gizzards! You know who I'm talking to, Rosie.

I sent an email out, but I don't have some folk's email, so here you are. The invite's out on the wide world of net. Since there's items to be distributed, please email either myself or Lu with your RSVP. And a Jolly Chrishanakwanztivus to everyone of us!

The love of money is the root of all evil. Or was that just love?

2006-12-06T17:38:00.000-08:00

After a tiring day I come home to no lights and house sans everyone else. Yea! A night free of pestering old people and whiny young people. Say "hello" to my dog and proceed to look for my mail. Something shiny catches my eye and I investigate.

It appears to be a plastic gold coin with words and images on it. The side I see first has a dove with "peace, love, good will"....good liberal hippy shit. I flip it over. There's a picture of a person with the words "David slew Goliath". hunh? I flip it over "peace, love, good will". I flip it over "David slew Goliath".

I didn't read it wrong. It said that. It got me to thinking about the absurd "reality" in which my old folks live. The one where hate and destruction = divine love only a male desert god could provide. However my contemplation doesn't rest there, so I sit here still contemplating it. I turn the phrases over in my head. There are so many meanings that you can read into. But I can't escape the origin of the thing and that clouds whatever good message I could possibly get out of it.

The coin comes from their church as a way to entice young hapless victims into their belief system. Their church is very much a Fundamentalist/Zionist church where they're giddy for the destruction of the MidEast and the return of their Lord and the rapture (of course). Get them with promises of love and then burn hate into their little minds. Then call it good.

I just find the coincidence and irony of the object fascinating. While I was revulsing (is that a word?) in the monetary attempt at washing my children's brains and hearts, the JudyBat called home, screaming at me to deliver it and other fake church money to her church or risk never receiving any help from her ever again. I kid not about this. She actually threatened that.

I feel like the sane cityslicker from Green Acres that has to put up with low educated, bumpkin, crazies. I'm going for a glass of w(h)ine. Goodnight.

MidwesternCountryUrbanLiberalWoman. Pass her a gin and tonic and a PBR. She wants to salsa

2006-11-25T09:00:00.000-08:00

I was a thespian in a rural highschool but not a very good one. I don't like performing in front of people unless I'm kindy tipsy. My bestfriend in highschool was one too, but he was much better. We spent our times in arthouse cinemas, bookstores, and at improv shows. Lastnight was a lot like those times of yore except he was driving and we ended up getting sloshed with youngsters (20somethings).

We started the night in KC at a Christmas musical version of Carrie done in drag. I had at least 3 drinks by the time we left there. I had one before we left his place. I think that was the only way I could sit through the entire thing without getting bored. I think the majority of the audience not related to the troupe felt the same way considering the lines to the restrooms during the intermission. Like all venues the ladies' room was way too small without an adequate number stalls. I decided that since I technically have only one tit and hair shorter than most guys that I could go into the gent's room. Kinda manish, kinda womanish. I love the laidback attitude towards sex and expression that culture has. I made three flaming guys giggle when I informed them of my revelation and physical landscape. The show had both male and females drag performers, so I'm guessing the assumption in the small venue was that I was either butch dike or semi-drag boy. ahh, sexual ambiguity!

The next stop couldn't have been further away from that sub-culture. We went to a small blue-collar, redneck bar in Merriam where we met up with a bunch of younger absolutely delightful 20-26 year olds. The best singers in the bar where these large women who sat in an unhappy pack until they'd get up and belt out with passion that the queens at the last place would have been jealous of. Yes, I ended a sentence with "of", Gypsy. After dancing, karoake, lastcall, and finding delight with the fact that I was the oldest woman in group with the most men and boys (11 years younger than me) hitting on me, we took off for more dancing at the big big gay bar in KC. I'm not homopobic, but I hate hate hate gay dance music! There is no soul! Just boom boom boom. Read thrust thrust thrust. Read I want to swing my hips and spin in circles! That was not going to happen with that music.

After that we ended up in a Mexican restaurant till the wee hours of the morning. That restuarant is my absolute fav in Mexican cuisine! They have the only Haurache in town, the best Al Pastor I've had anywhere, and you can see little kids even uptil 11 pm. Even there we were accepted by the overly maked-uped and fantastically dressed crowd. My only beef with them and all Mexican places is that they don't serve hot tea. That and for some reason my girlfriend's boyfriend (he works there) kept putting on that horrible song that repeats "you're beautiful" over and over and over. three times. annoying. I'm going to have to talk to her about her choices in sappy men.

So. My conclusion is...I love my upbringing for certain things. My family was working class with a tinge of middleclass. we lived in the country, and they were very conservative and religious. However! As soon as I got my car, my friends and I headed for Midtown and Lawrence to broaden our experiences. So. Now I can easily go in a lot of different societies and do fine. Well, I do prefer not to be around conservative types, but, hey, I can chameleon my ass in them for a few minutes at a time before my "uniquenesses" show up.

Crazy Lady's Pre-Holiday Musings

2006-11-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

I have too many reasons to be thankful. PinkZilla and the lack of cancer are on the top of that list. I have a lot, but I want to save them for my chillins to hear. Plus I think it's holiday cheese.

I have 2 requests for this season. Time and Space. I have things to get done if I'm going to become a woman with no regrets. I'm getting there slowly.

I'm experiencing feelings that I have only felt while premenstrual. That leads me to the conclusion that I must be going crazy, but at least I'm getting things done. These things are awful and only done during those times. Things like (ick) housecleaning and checkbook balancing. My poor Frankenstien Artmuse is being neglected because of the holiday cleaning frenzy. I can hear her crying in the backroom.

Am I maturinng or just hormonal? I feel like I'm on coke half the time and the other half I feel like I'm on valium. I'm not on anything but a hormone blocking drug, and I'm drinking only one cup of coffee and only one beer daily. These energy swings are why I think I appear crazy to everyone who doesn't know me....well, maybe to those who know me too. I just hope I can control the moodswingin' when Thursday hits and my family and my brother's wife's family come over for dinner.

I am hormonal, but I can tell that I'm maturing. I willfully bought loose jeans. I'm wearing them right now. My ass is covered and the seams don't look like they'll rip at any moment. Eeesh mom pants. I swear though, I will never be the mom that wears pumpkin sweaters, moose sweatshirts, pinetree blouses, pleated light blue (not faded) jeans, or tan (not cargo) slacks. If I do, I give you Goddesses permission to perform a fashion intervention. If that doesn't work try beheading, but after I get my will in place please.

Now on to my behavior disclaimer as if this whole thing hasn't been one until now. Before chemo I had social filters that only worked sporadically, and now they don't seem to be working at all. So if I start beligerently ranting nonsense, please feel free to calm me down. Just say "Hey, Crazy Lady!" and throw something preferably soft at my head. If I say anything ridiculous at all you may throw something at me too. Just make sure I'm not ranting political or social or you might get the thing thrown right back at your head.

Happy Thanksgiving! As you might have guessed this was conceived before Turkeyday. I hope you all had a good one!

Ultra Fancy Body Bubbles

2006-11-16T13:49:00.000-08:00

Today I had 2 doctor appointments. I really don't want to see Olathe Med center for awhile. The next time is in 2 weeks. I should be paying rent there. However, there's good news on the boob front. I'm the "January Girl" for this ultra new, ultra fancy tit insert that doctors are for some reason only allowed to give out in small quantities each month.

What makes it fancy is that the custom fit is better than with the regular cc mode (more shapes for each size), there's less of a chance for rippling, and the silicone gel adheres to itself so if any problem arises the goo will stay put clinging to itself inside the tissue envelope that forms around the implant.

January seems like a long time away, but Ha ha! I'm on the December waiting list. So if another doctor in the KC area doesn't need the implant then the person next on the waiting list gets. Unfortunately, there are so many recons going on that it seems unlikely that I'd get it. Hmmm....that many? What the F is going on?

The next thing is about the small bubble residing on my neck. But that's just it. It's just a bubble. Small and annoying but the doctors feel it's benign. After this past summer I don't think it could be C. I had a very very hard time typing that sentence. I don't want to jinx myself.

So happier subjects! Bigger Boob Bubbles, one small thyroid bubble, and one small cold to blow small snot bubbles! I'm estatic!

Whisky List

2006-11-16T06:46:00.000-08:00

I originally wanted to comment on Gypsy's blog, but I feel that this will be too long.

Lists. I made one last night after a rather listless night of working on artwork. Wednesdays are my solitude/creativity day, but it wasn't working. I got so frustrated I ended up crying and boohooing my lack of talent and direction. Cry Baby. Cry Baby. Wah wah wah.

The old folks and the kiddos came home from their midweekly brainwashing session at church. And all the tension and anxiety I felt kept building. One kid wanted me to hear him read while the other kept bawling about nobody liked her because noone was paying attention to her. All I wanted was to relax and concentrate on an 8 year old reading some silly story involving cat warriors and their adventures in the forests of where ever. I have to mention the sausage/football creature that serves as a pet trying to simultaneously bite and lick my fingers and nose off during the entire exchange of "Stop touching me!" "Nobody likes me! You hate me!" "Bark!" "Oww!" "Quit it!" "Bark!" Then I'd look around my room and see the surviving confetti of my life that escaped the mass cleaning of the piled up shit that's accumulated since living here. My mood darkened.

It's my fault. I'm a slob, and when I start on project I lose all sense of cleanliness. MUST...DO...ART...UUGH... That's the Frankenstien art monster that lives in my head that serves as a my muse's voice. It's funny. My muse is a creature made of a hodgepodge of bodyparts hastily put together and is the result of an opiate induced literary bet of some repressed Victorians.

Ok. Lists and whisky. After getting the chillins to bed I poured myself a rather tall 3 finger whisky and coke to soothe my frazzled nerves and boost creative juices. Yes. I drink alone. I admit it. Not the point of the story though. I made the list to get a real grasp of what I have been doing and where I am going with this "art". I collected everything within view and jotted down the pieces, numbered them, described them in detail, and named a few. I surprised mysellf. I have 14 projects going. And some are series. None of them are finished. Some are close, but not any where "complete". Artists never feel fully "complete". That's a good thing. It means complacency is no where near. I made a daily schedule to push myself into finishing them, and started on it late last night. We'll see if I actually stick with it.

Like a few others I know, I don't do well with authority or rules even if the authority and rulemaker is me. Damn destructive behavior. I need...(Don't ever tell the Old Folks that I said this!)..some discipline. (heebie jeebies) Hopefully this new trick of keeping lists and notes for my memory will keep me from losing focus and drifting into another project.

2006-11-14T16:36:00.000-08:00

Calloo! Callay! I'm clean! I'm clean! 2 doctors gave me 2 clean bills of health. Now on to the next 2!

My primary doctor is awesome. She's 36 and smart and sassy. I love her. She meditates. She's in Johnson County! Olathe! The place that was used as an example of neocon religous assholes successfully overtaking the government on all levels. A friend of mine in Boston read an article about it up there. He called to tell me that he was happy about not being down here. Yet! It was here that I found someone sane!

Another reason why she's delightful...she laughs at jokes like...

This year I've had more people feel up my tits than I've ever had before, and I don't even have a partner!

You gotta love a doctor who can laugh at that.

2006-11-07T11:57:00.000-08:00

I love my ex-mother-in-law. I heard that "huhn?". My ex-mother-in-law (Tennessee Tilly to me, Yaya to the kids) has cute little sayings all over her house in the forms of old vintage ads or products and cutesy little crafty crap hung on the walls. She has a few that I love. They make me smile and remember to put the backbone in every morning I wake up. I can't remember them ALL. That's impossible. They're collectors in every sense of the word. I'm just going to give you a few that I like.

Old age and trickery will overcome youth and skill.

Old age isn't for sissies.

The queen is not accepting an audience today.

Drive slow. Let the little shavers grow.

Street girls bringing in sailors must register at the front desk.
This is a real sign issued from Alexandria, VA city commission during WWII and is framed on their wall next to other old posters with the same theme.

As you can imagine. She has a sense of humor perfect for a little old lady who drinks at least 2 whisky-on-the-rocks precisely at 5 everyday. She's constantly sending me silly forwarded emails that should have the trumpet wah wah waah sound effect attached to them, and for some of the other kinds if you listen closely you'll hear the national anthem being played while some poor patriotic sap is wiping snot from their nose.

She rarely helps out or anything, but I'm fine with that because then she doesn't obligate me to anything and that makes our relationship a little more honest. I take that back. She does help. Her help is the same help that she gave me a long time ago when me and PA were teenagers. She's a sanctuary from the Old Folks' Home. She's a hoot but not a good babysitter. (whisky at 5 sharp EVERY night come hell or high water just check out what's in her plastic coke bottle)

Here's to one of the many interesting women in my life!

2006-11-05T07:28:00.000-08:00

For this morning's blogging I feel that I should recap my weekend. It was fantastic and eye opening. And at times eye closing followed quickly by another eyeopener. Friday started off interesting. Nothing major expect one huge blow up between me and grandpa regarding my Zilla and some "defiance" that supposedly he was acting upon. Stressful, yes, but I went out that day dead set on having a great day. I have awesome kids. I'm biased, but I know they're great.

But that particular bitch-a-thon isn't the point of this entry.

I went to the First Fridays with a friend of mine. We saw a rather silly shadow puppet play complete with hippy jazzy band and silly narrator. He called us out for leaving early, but hey! there was Borat to go see and we were not going to be late for that!

Here I must advertise. You should go see Borat. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. The audience at one point laughed continuously for at least five to ten minutes. I looked around at the them. Everyone had tears and were holding their sides. It was literally the funniest movie that I've seen in long time. And to make sure I feel that way for a long long time, I will not ever see it again. Don't get me wrong. I loved every minute of it. It was shocking, offensive, and you could tell Sacha Cohen wasn't awful just ...edgy. I think I love it for almost the same reason I love John Waters. Sick wrong humor.

Later that I night I met lovely people at a bar. I talk more now to folk since this shitty C thing's happened. One particular arteest-boy got me thinking about my work and the direction it's going. "Why is it going there? What is it that makes it Yours?" Simple questions but very thought provoking. I need to be able to articulate these things if I ever want to show and sell.

I ended up not meeting cute arteest-boy at the next bar. I didn't feel like it. I had other things on my mind rather than flirting. I had things to think about. I got home and tried to think about those things, but I kept having a few images popping up in my mind all night. Every time I woke up to turn over, pull blankets on or off depending upon heat flashing, get a sip of water, or go to the bathroom. I'm up a lot at night if you can't tell. fuck. Unfortunately I can't tell you what these images are. You have to see the movie. But then I warn you...you'll be woken up by those images in the middle of the night too.

2006-11-01T06:31:00.000-08:00

Halloween is over. That's supposed to be a holiday that celebrates the Heebee-jeebies. This is not the case for me. It's only a precursor to a more frightening date for me. November 1st signifies two things for me. First of all, it's my wedding anniversary. (shudder) Secondly, it's the month where I found IT...looking back at me in the mirror from its place on my tit. (yet another shudder) These two things have changed my favorite month into a horrifying symbol of deadly things in my life.

That sucks because it's absolutely beautiful outside with just enough chill to get me invigorated for Life and not enough to go scurry back under my covers. Once wintery cold starts to set in, I'm good. I want to be out in it just like the summertime heat...if I start out early in the morning.

So, I have conflicting feelings this morning. Isn't that just like a Pisces?

I love this time of year, but I dread it too. It signifies my mortality, life continuing, my internal strength (stubborness!), and the clothes are much better! Not to mention I love the animal activity in the skies and on the ground, the flowering plants, colorful grasses, and the changing leaves. So many great things that somehow get clouded over by two shitty things.

Well, I have to admit it's only partly cloudy and with NO chance of precipitation.

2006-10-24T15:23:00.000-07:00

You know what feels good?

Dunking your head in water then coming up and feeling the water get caught in your hair then roll down your neck.

mascara.

Scratching with your fingernails.

Do you know what tastes good?

Apples baked with a Snickers bar, Mars Bar, Caramel, red hots, Hershey's Kisses, Reece's peanut butter cups, etc...

French silk pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie, gooseberry pie, cherry pie, apricot pie, etc...

grocery store sushi.

I'm going to go eat a brownie and scratch my ass.

2006-10-22T07:57:00.000-07:00

Last night I enjoyed walking around the Red Balloon Art Walk with my kids. It's a lot more relaxed than the First Fridays or any of the other art opening nights in KC. Although this year's walk had a lot fewer artists and shows, it was still delightful and made me miss home a lot.

At dinner a lovely Goddess met up with us. She told us about another show at a local watering hole which we went to, and she gave me a present. I don't think I told her how much I appreciated that gift. I have recieved gifts from people, but none of them had the emotional effect on me as much as this one.

It's a book. Not a very well written one but one full of heart and sincerity. It's about young women who went through this same damn thing. I cried at least three times during the half that I read last night after we got home. Bawling. I couldn't read the words there were so many tears. I think I had tears in my eyes the whole time and there were sentences I would stop at and find very difficult to continue. None of the women and their experiences were exact to me or among themselves (duh). One was a mom. One was single. One woman had an attitude very similar to mine. She's dead now. She died at 29. We were born the same year.

I cried at the mom's reaction to her news and to her fears of not being able to watch her son grow. Damn. PA's dad died when he was 15 months old. He doesn't remember him at all and has depended upon others' memories of his dad. I don't have a lot pictures of me. I always had the camera. I know, I know....that's dire and unneeded, but thoughts like these pop into my head A LOT. I just shoo them away sometimes quickly sometimes not.

On to the dead woman. I freaked out on her story. Her attitude was as I said before very similar to mine. This was a disturbance that should be quickly put behind me, and my life should resume back to normal. As much as a woman with a fleshy/plastic bump posing as a breast can. I had a hard time reading her story even though I was mesmerized. It kind of reminded me of being a child and being mesmerized by the Holocaust. Sick. I kept reading and panicing inside until I got to one paragraph of hers. She didn't like taking "unnecessary pills". She was talking about Tamoxifen. She opted not to take it. She died. That paragraph was ominous.

None of the women mentioned anything about hormone recptors or Hercept-blah-blah (I didn't have that so I don't remember). There was no testing?! They didn't say. No mention about something that seems so obvious to me. This was at least 5-6 years ago. Yes, research has gotten the medical field progressed to the point that it's at. I'm grateful. Unfortunately that progression is based on the mistakes, omissions, ignorance, and lack of certain drugs and testing that have affected the outcomes many many women (and men) before me and it will continue after me. Has anyone heard anything about the cause? How come those Nazi bastards got the cig/lung cancer thing down (Nazi=bad bad bad), but here in a more humane process we can't figure out what the F is causing this and many other nasty diseases?

Through chemo I balked a lot. The best desciption I have for this is an old, sick tigeress being whipped by a cruel trainer until she jumps through the ring of fire. She knows she will get hurt, but she has to do it to prolong her life. The trainer will be forced to kill her if she can't perform anymore. She'd jump, and the fire would singe her fur off and cause excruciating pain. And she'd have to do that over and over again or face the gun. You can imagine the stress and the unwillingness to do it again, the whippings would continue to keep her going.

I had these words to keep me going

It's your life...your life...your life...
this pain and sickness for a short time in your life or....
the baldness for a short time in your life or...
One breast for the rest of your life or...
Tamoxifen/menopause or...

I'm glad I did it. My chances are greater. Thanks for the book, Bertha. I heart you!

2006-10-19T11:09:00.000-07:00

Calling all Goddesses! Calling their humble servants!

I suggest we have another KC (Lenexa) soiree and visit The Red Balloon! If you don't know what the Red Balloon is, imagine a bar dive full of red necks and blue collars but sprinkled with brown skin folk and young Midwestern urbanites (the self-proclaimed IN-THE-KNOWS).

It's beautiful! Irony at its best! KC area karaoke at its best! Audiences at their best! Drinks at cheap prices! Sing-a-longs welcomed! Dancing encouraged! Applauding appreciated! Stuff Shirts not allowed!

No fear Ladies and Gents! They're all amateurs.
Come on! Let's show 'em what the Goddesses can do!

2006-10-17T14:45:00.000-07:00

I had a great time on Friday with the rest of the Goddesses. Anyone reading these blogs has had to figure out by now that it was a memorable evening had by all. Including myself. I had the pleasure of dancing with a lovely 23 year old boy, kiss him a few times, and not care if he'd ever call me back. You know...that's out of the ordinary for me. I have too much on my plate to fuck around with youngsters and their beautiful bodies and delightful mouths. ahhhh..life.....

Last night I did something I've never done before. I played DDR. That's Dance Dance Revolution for you oldsters. After realizing that I cannot dance even after the craziness on Friday, I checked out a fat kid play the game on YouTube. The kid was a great dancer though enormous and I laughed at something as sad as the boy falling off the pad in exhaustion. Don't tell anyone that I'm human.

I love getting in shape and being physical and I giggled at his fall, but I have to admit that hugely obese kid could kick my ass out there on the dance floor.

This skinny chick can eat her heart out.

2006-10-11T17:52:00.000-07:00

I'm going to pity party this one last time.

Some have said that I've gone through this gracefully, but they haven't really seen me at the worst of moments. I cry at odd times and at the weirdest things. I have this nagging fear that will not go away. Sometimes it drives me into a near panic state. It makes it so I can't sleep at night, and I fly off the handle at everything.

The last couple of days has been like this. Fear, pain, anger, and anguish. I've said before that I don't want my kids to have the experience that my oldest brothers had when they were small. Their mom died at the ages of 7 and 9. Mine are at 8 and 5. Not the same I know, but that fear is still there. 5 years is not enough for me. 16 years is not enough. Not enough to see my children grow. I want more, and I'm scared.

Almost everyday someone has to give me a horror story of someone dying. I see one everytime I go into my yoga class on Mondays and Wednesdays. She has stage 4 now and has been given a time. That scares the shit out of me. How will I know if IT comes back? I check my anatomy books for clues as to where my liver and kidneys are. If I ever feel pain there then I know I have to go in. If I feel pain in my chest, I stop everything I do because the chemo could have hurt my heart and I might (weird chance) have a heart attack. I check the amount of alcohol I consume. I feel like I'm going to puke half the time from the stress, but if I have more than a sip, I might hurt my body even more and invite IT back in my body. I get scared, so I have another drink to calm my nerves. Stupid catch 22. Stress causes it. Alcohol has been linked even if it is extremely slight. So what do I do? Pop a top again....just so my teeth and stomach muscles release.

On top of it...I'm still bald on my head. My arms and legs ache ache ACHE. My nails are still separating from my fingers. I haven't been laid in almost a year. My hormones are screaming at me. I'm still not ok with menopause or Tamoxifen. I figured that out when I had a dream declaring my want of another baby, but pregnancy scares me more than the hormone therapy (SWTF?). I woke up crying. I hate getting exhausted from watching a game of soccer. I hate the heat flashes and bouts of uncontrollable coldness in rapid fire repetition. Those keep me from sleeping too.

Sorry to complain. I just feel like I'm about to explode and not in a fun way. I don't want anyone telling me I'm handling this beautifully, gracefully, or amazingly. I'm not...just ask my family. Goddess, I just want this shit to be behind me!

breathe...

I guess my lessons with this shit are self-value and patience. I just wish it could've been an easier task than cancer.

2006-10-08T07:46:00.000-07:00

Last night a dear Goddess came over for pizza, beer, and good times. It was great. The old folks were away on vacation, and we were drinking. Sounds like high school, doesn't it? Except that we're both in our thirties and have children. That's only a small discrepency in the rowdy teenager senario, but if we want the fantasy of youth for a fleeting moment the kids will have to be omitted from the story. But that's not really the story, so we can keep the kids for awhile...

See, last night She set me straight on an issue that's been growing on my mind. Hair. I actually complained about hair. Not the lack of it mind you, but the presence of it...all over. very annoying. She of course laughed at me and reminded that I was crying for hair a few weeks ago. Yes. I know. I was lamenting and begging all the Powers That Be for hair of any kind, but now I have to shave. nyaah. I forgot how quickly my shaven hairs grow.

The one good thing about the chemo experience would be the lack of body hair. I am going to miss those carefree, razorless days of smooth skin. I won't wax. I've been in pain too much this past year to take that up.

The other day Goddess GB laughed when I told her that I felt like a yeti because I noticed all the microscopic hairs growing on my face and arms. I am so used to being completely bald, but now I'm too hairy for theVGER lady from Star Trek. So who should I go as for Halloween? GI Jane? Sinead O'Connor? Or Ripley from Aliens?

ahhh. human nature...when it's summer and hotter than hell how we wish it were winter and colder than a witch's tit.

2006-10-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

Is anyone else having fun with the Republican party these days? I've been giggling for at least three days straight now.

On a similar note my folks actually think that Kissinger and the Pope are wise. hmmm...nazi youth...Vietnam "Conflict" war criminal....you'd think they pick winners instead of losers to listen to.

Fundamentalists are getting loonier and more desparate for the return of their god everyday.

2006-10-03T06:35:00.000-07:00

At a party on Saturday night I got a glimpse into what I think might be what PinkZilla's life'll be like when they reach puberty. Zilla ran from a Pink Pixie. Pinkie climbed all over her BestBoy friend. We separated them for the sleep over.

I've had this sneaking suspicion about girls chasing Zilla. He'd come home and say things to his sister like "I don't like girls". He wouldn't say that to me of course, but tattletale Pinkie reports the atrocities to me. I laugh each time. Now I know why he does. The Pink Pixie was relentless. I wonder if she ever got a kiss off of him or just good exercise. That makes me laugh too.

Now Pinkie seems to be like her momma AND her PA. Bad combo. I've made the prediction that her sexuality will be wielded like a weapon. She's a tomboy and pretty aggressive...polite but aggressive in play. She clung onto her BestBoy friend like there was no tomorrow. It got to the point that the poor boy HAD to run away from her. I laughed. So did BB's momma. I hope Pinkie learns as she gets older how not to be clingy and crazy about a guy. Nothin's scarier than a co-dependent in-your-face loony.

The next morning, she loudly informed us adults who stayed over night and were eating breakfast in the town cafe that they climbed all over each other. uh hunh...well, that's why they were separated. Thanks, Gypsy, for finding that funny. The old folks sitting next to us were giggling too. I've heard duck tape is good to quiet a kid down, but I've found peanut butter is much more humane and tasty. I should've used it.

And I was trying to put on a good impression for a cutie at the table myself. oh well...

Funny as I'm thinking about it, I've come to the conclusion that she's very similar to Pink Pixie. And that both Zilla and BB are similar. They all love the attention. The only difference between the boys was that BB hadn't got to the "girls are icky" stage.

I think Zilla learned that at school or his grandparents' (ick) church. I hope he gets over that soon. It's gotten so bad that if there's kissing in a movie he gets uptight and asks why he's allowed to watch that. The violence I've allowed him to view (cartoons, kung fu, etc...) doesn't even register. uh hunh...okay then.

I'm getting nervous about them hitting the touchy feely stage and then the full on puberty stage followed closely by the active fumbling sex stage. I know how I was. I know how PA was. Unfortunately I have no fingernails at the present to chew on whilst fretting over this topic.

I do have a sense of humor and practicality about it all. Active fumbling sex stage is hilarious, but I don't want accidents happy or otherwise. I'll have the condom jar next to the cookie jar. I'll be the 'coolest mom" around until none of my kids' friends are allowed back over. I won't be offering liquor just common sense protection.

I think what it really boils down to is that these stages also mark my advancing stages towards middle and old ages. But at least I'll be the "cool mom". yah right.

2006-09-26T06:46:00.000-07:00

John Stewart for president.

I saw that on a bumper sticker yesterday. My reaction:
He can come in my oval office any day!

Goddess, it was a beautiful sunset!

2006-09-25T07:14:00.000-07:00

Wow. Last night.
I'd like to thank you Goddesses, Rumblejetts, and Tanya of the Jazzhaus for last night. I was pretty nervous the entire time. I don't relish in spotlights, but that was a learning experience for a lot of us. Roya, your dancing is awesome! Jingly ass and all!

I was fairly shocked about the turnout, but I guess that happens when there's a lot of people who've been affected by this disease. However....no more news crews! That made me more jittery. What made me giggle was that there was at least one Bombshell girl there even though she looked a little uncomfortable. I will never understand the dymanics between the GDs and Queens in respect to BS girls. You know what I mean. I'm a lazy typer not punster. not right now.

I loved the boobie cake, boobie jello mold, and the boob mold that were there. The location was perfect....naked boobies, bootys, and pregger bellies plastered all over the walls! How fun is that?

I'l leave you with just a few words:
breast boob booby tit teat ta tata fun flaps skislopes bananas coconuts melons peaches udders milk jugs earmuffs etc etc etc....Add what you will

2006-09-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

Elvis went to my wedding. He's actually a relative of mine. He's lived in Nebraska for almost all of his life. You didn't know that, did you? I can't believe I'm blogging about him, but he died last night not thirty years ago.

Ok. That's obviously not true, but my mother's cousin DID look like Elvis... an old greasy one. He did die last night. He was fat and dyed his hair black right up until then. I don't usually think too much about my mom's side of the family, but he was an exception. At my wedding I was proud of him and the rest of the fam because they contrasted so highly from that of PA's.

My romantic fairytale story wedding looked like this:
The prodigal son of a wealthy man sowed his wild oats into a lowly peasant's daughter. Her family then tries to climb the social ladder by marrying her off to the wealthy man's son. Oh the shame on the Noble family! Complete it with her friends bringing the kegs of beer and bags of pot, the bride laughing about it being a shotgun wedding, and the awesome brokendown camper with Nebraska plates that chugged onto the Estate Lands that unloaded what seemed to be an unsafe amount of people from its bowels. Elvis was in that throng of travelers from Nebraska. You'd half expect to hear "Shake, Rattle, and Roll" being played as it rolled in. My dad's side would be more"Dueling Banjos".

Ahhhh. The feathers of those little old rich biddies were certainly unruffled that day! As to be expected the sides never got on, but the Noble family did notice the good charateristics and qualities of the peasant's daughter. She became a staple in the family even after the marriage ended.

Now, back to Bernard AKA Elvis...I will remember him fondly for his kindnesses to me and for shaking up those complacent people. I will cherish and respect his determination to abide by a certain aesthetic right upto his death. Cheers, Bernard! You never let that flame die out!

2006-09-19T06:41:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I went with some friends to a BBQ. While BBQ's usually raise my spirits, fill my belly, and intoxicate my soul, I came away with a rather sober feeling. I had begun to think about our confidence in our immortality and bright shiny futures juxtaposed to the paths our lives take.

The night started out like any other poorly written roadtrip movie where three friends from the past set out on an adventure. Whoo. We didn't even leave the school district , but we can forgive the three the short distance they went, right? All three were happy and excited to reminisce and laugh about the past and present. We even thought of crazy one-liners and theme songs for our roadtrip (can you tell we're geeks?). We ended the joke with we're on our way to Vegas in the small Toyota with my drainage bag flying out the window and a trail of dust rising in our path.

The party was typical...ribs, corn, beans, beer, whiskey, rum, tequila...It was fun. But the night ended abruptly when the Reason for the Story decided to steal another person's painpills. The girl just had dry sockets. Painfull. I'd be mad too. So after watching the Reason drift in and out of consciousness and wobble by himself at the other end of the lawn we decided to take Reason home before the girl in pain and the owner of the house deballed him. I don't want to see that. I'm getting squeamish in my old age.

We shoved our bloated bodies back into the small truck built only for english teacher, leftist bachelors, and headed off for the Reason's home. English teacher decided to confront him with me sitting in the middle. I've had dealings with defensive addicts before and was not too interested in uncontrolled outbursts anywhere near me. Amazingly it stayed fairly calm even if it was emotional. I kept a hand on both their legs in a small attempt to remind them that I was in the middle of all of this. I knew neither wanted to hurt anyone, but an extra reminder is always a good thing.

Reason made every attempt to make us believe his innocence, but he kept looking skeptically at me. Did I know he was shit? Yes, Reason. I do. These were only looks in our eyes and not the words said. The words we said were all words I had exchanged with another addict that I cared deeply about. English Teacher and I left Reason at his door step. We headed out.

Eng. Teacher didn't know how to read Reason. I told him that Reason was guilty. I had seen the behavior and heard the words tooooo many times to not be able to pick up on it. I'm not stupid. PA thought I was. Reason might think I'm gullible. I'm not. I'm just tired.

Eng Teacher was amazed that Reason "was afraid" of him. I almost snapped that it was intimidation not exactly fear. What'd he expect? We knew Reason since before he smoked pot or even had a drink of liquor. Those two boys had been friends since kindergarten. Seriously long time for anyone to see the path you either chose or gets chosen for you.

So here we are. The Aesopian morale to the story...I guess.
We all have potential to come up golden. You see it in the faces of children when they're posing for their school pics or just losing themselves in a game. The Promise just doesn't happen to some. This is what has happened to Reason (and a lot of others). I know some of you are thinking that it was his choice, some are thinking it's where he's supposed to be, and some are thinking that his problem is bigger than himself. I've known him for a long time and saw what propelled him into his future of herion dependency. I believe it's mostly out of his control. I didn't say completely.

It's sad to see the your life go sour and see that others who've known you during better more hopeful times notice the fall. It's even sadder when you see those people whom you thought were lifelong friends turn away because of heavy shit. I've been on both sides. Fuck, I sat in the middle of it Sat night. I sat in the middle of it when dealing with my family and PA. And I still feel like I'm sitting in the middle of it. Funny how life goes.

2006-09-15T12:31:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to mend my daughter's comforter without making my fingers into veritable pincushions. It's not going so well. I'm trying not to eat the entire brownie pan I made twenty minutes ago. AND I still have this damn drain hanging from my body! Gargh!

Fuck it. It's gorgeous outside. I'm goin' outside, eatin' another brownie, and washin' it down with a beer. Have a great weekend, ladies!

2006-09-14T06:48:00.000-07:00

I decided last night after another night of being unable to sleep that Will Farrell is actually funny. In fact, I laughed so hard at his anchorman movie that my entire torso hurt hurt HURT until about 2:30 am. Now I know why my cousin said, "Scotch. Scotch. Scotch. I like scotch." to me. She was referring to my love of gin of which I haven't allowed myself to enjoy this past year. Not sure why...could be all the drugs I've been on.

2006-09-13T07:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I started my last phase of recovery. I now have a "boob" on my left side. I won't be able to see it until tomorrow, but there's a bump there that has not been there since March 24 (or 22?). My other side looks youthful, but that's just conjecture because I haven't seen that one either. I'm just not wearing a bra and it floats in air. So that's why the youthful description.

Needless to say that when I'm not concentrating the achiness, I'm estatic. I look normal. So...I'll have to have a welcoming party or some sort of commemoration for my new aquisition. That'll probably be at the end of this phase. Thankfully, it'll be sooner than what I originally thought!

2006-09-09T14:25:00.000-07:00

As you all know, my life has been stressful and frustrating for the past year. Labor Day weekend is usually seen as a capping off of summer fun and frivolity. This Labor Day weekend was different ( just like the rest of my year). This year my parents tried to help me relax by taking me and my kiddos with them on an extended weekend getaway to visit my brother and his pregger wife in the mountains of Colorado. What my extremely Republican family does not understand is that they DO NOT relieve me of any form of stress whatsoever.

We were in the van sooooo long that my daughter out of vehicular frustration begged, "How many more minutes do we have?". At which point I responded with a gravely, I'm-going-to-die-from-ennui voice, "HOURS". At which she shrieked thus causing both me and my (s)mother to laugh. You see, we spent 10 to 11 hours driving to and then fro and hours driving around Colorado in what (thanks to the now thrice seen movie RV) shall be forever named the "Big Rolling Turd", while listening to religious nuts ranting about their nutty beliefs.

I did find somethings wonderful and unforgettable that weekend...three extremely interesting women that I met in 2 different boutiques, the smell and crispness of autumn air and the beauty of the scenery, the fun I had with my kids alpine sliding after 20 years of not doing it, and the awesome handbag and earrings that I found in one of the boutiques.

There were truths that I learned from the trip although they were not the truths my parents wanted me to learn. I have learned that more than a few hours in any vehicle with 3 generations and a dog stuffed into it is WAY TOO LONG, Colorado has some the hottest men ever bred living in it, FS beer and food is WAY better than Breckenridge's, interesting people are found hidden amongst the banal, and my life is way too short to go through vacationing with the old folks ever again.

It was a fun trip for awhile. I do give it that, but it makes me think of the provebial teen question...Do I really come from these people?

Thank Goddess, I'm back! Pass me another beer on Monday. I need some churching!

2006-08-30T06:41:00.000-07:00

It's been a little over 2 weeks, and I'm having more and more dreams about hair. It's not just about scalp hair either. I dream about eyelashes, eyebrows, pubic hair, toe hairs, hand hairs, arm hairs, armpit hairs, and leg hairs. Every kind of hair you can think of. These all kept falling out right up until last week. gargh! The good news is that my head is itchy. Really itchy. 4 more weeks to go till I get a good GI Jane going.

There is only one kind of hair I DO NOT want back....chin hair. Come on Ladies...can I get a witness?

2006-08-14T13:16:00.000-07:00

8 down. 0 to go. Today was the last day. It took them 4 times to get a needle in my arm. My right arm hates me. I can get my recon anytime I want. I start the Taxol in a month, and don't have to see the oncologist for a month. BTW, I can't stop smiling.

Thanks Goddessess and Queens and various friends, humble servants, and chillins who came last night. It was mellow, and that's exactly how I wanted it. Ya'll are beautiful!

Here's to health!

2006-08-11T07:21:00.000-07:00

My week has delightful.

I learned a lot like I'm a wiennie. There's no complaining when there's babies out there who go through 30 treatments of chemo with heavier drugs than what I have to deal with. My heart goes out them and their families.

I got A LOT of yard work done and found out that the reason why I've gotten so tired and dizzy was cuz I'm anemic again. Whatever...get a shot and it goes away. I still have work to do, but the weather is cooperating and the yard is coming together. So if you're coming on Sunday no talking about various holes and weeds throughout the yard! There's a lot to do.

Tennessee Tilly (ex-mom-in-law) who's extremely conservative (public schools shouldn't exist and America is god's gift to the Earth kind) sent me one of those cutesy emails people send. What sets this one apart from the other 1,000,000 cutesy emails she's sent is that it ends with this quote: Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel. hmmm....... She did spawn my ex...

I have woken up every morning this week singing these lyrics:

I can see the light of a clear blue morning
I can see the light of a brand new day
And everything's gonna be alright
yes, everything's gonna be alright...

You get the idea. Now it's off to the Elvis Parade!

2006-08-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took the PinkZilla to the KC zoo. We had the best time! I lose energy pretty quickly, and I was wondering how I was going to handle it all. PinkZilla was a treat! Zilla helped pushed the stroller, watched Pinkie when I need to hit the restrooms, and informed us about the animals we were looking at. Pinkie came up with her own information, ate her food (miracle), and demanded to go shopping only two or three times. They didn't argue until we were almost home. They're typical siblings full of pranks and various consternations specifically designed for the bedevilment of the other, but that day they were angels with only tiny horns and itty-bitty vibrated tails.

It was the most relaxing time I've had out with the kids since I can remember. We saw everything we came to see and a lot more than usual even though I didn't put them on the death march that my usual speed is. I let them eat candy. They didn't argue, complain, or whine. I think hell froze for awhile yesterday.

People looked at us. I know it can't be helped. Folk look at folk, and we had a tired looking bald woman (me) leading a small ragtag troupe of baboons (PinkZilla). I got my laughs at Pinkie. I kept taking my hat off and walked about with a snakeskin print umbrella to the amusement of others. I'm not paranoid. I could hear giggling. I would've giggled too. Pinkie was mortified. Can a child get mortified before puberty? "Mom, I don't like it. Put it back on." "Please, kid. You don't know these people." "Why do you talk to people you don't know?" "Because they're human, and that's just who I am." If she'd just notice that I also talk to animals.

I got my laughs at Zilla who would not use the public restroom because "It's too noisy in there, Mom." Me and Pinkie sat there for twenty minutes waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to pooh. I made him get out of the way of a grandpa who waited patiently for his brood's time to enter the family pooh room. I shouldn't laugh. I'm not a public pooher either except for one horrible incident at a busy restaurant. That cured me of my shy shitter....maybe not.

I guess that's the vacation me and my PinkZilla got this year. We needed that small excursion emotionally and physically. Go there when it cools off again. They got the short cut opened, and the Kid Zone is a blast (AC).

2006-08-04T16:31:00.000-07:00

I have been wondering when the mother-daughter confrontations and tension would begin. I thought it was when puberty started rear its ugly head. No. It's not. My Pinkie is 5 years old, and she rolls her eyes at me with such effort that only the most adept eye-rollers can muster. She is also queen at making the most astound and loudest assertions with the most profound belief in them. I WILL see those Asian giraffes someday, Kansas IS just a small part of Lawrence (Johnson County is actually another country), and snacktime IS at 6 pm no matter what I say.

Hot is cold and cold is hot, by the way. You don't want to contradict her. Not only would that embarass the little goddess but it would seriously piss her off into a tyrade that Eris herself would never have been able to conceive.

I am proud of Pinkie. She has confidence and knows what she wants. It can be a little annoying when she's screaming at the top of her voice because foxes only come in red and she has to wear the blue and green striped tank with the pink and red plaid skorts.

What I'm proud of is that she will contradict the religious mores being instilled in her by her over-zealous grandparents. She's sassy and she thinks ...sometimes. Ahh....my little rebel.

2006-08-02T12:37:00.000-07:00

7 down. 1 more to go. I want my hair. I want my eyebrows. It'll be a few days before I stop hurting. My nails look like they'll detach from my fingers at any moment. My doc says they won't, but I've heard tales. Sheesh. People tell their tales, and sometimes it's just not helpful.

All these drugs are keeping my body exhausted but my brain working on new ideas (which is good). I've been down these past months. It's kind of hard to work on projects when your mind is obsessing on something. I've now decided to turn that obsession into something to keep my creative juices flowing. So the next set of stuff might seem depressing, but I swear it's not. It's just about my determination to be over this shit for good. Of course it'd have to physical. I'm "innarda" after all.

I'm going to count my blessings. Someone I've just come into knowing and caring about is having a harder time.

If only it'd cool off and rain, then maybe this bad funk would lift a little.

2006-07-30T08:56:00.000-07:00

Growing up Midwestern in the country there are certain rules that must be followed before the developers and their hordes of construction workers and the suburbanite assholes invade the place. You have to go swimming in creeks or ponds. You have to go batting at mailboxes while driving drunkenly 20 MPH over. You have to go tromping through the fields and woods before their gone. You have to learn to deal with nonhuman neighbors.

I hated living in the country as a teen. I have to admit that. BUT there were things that I loved like hanging out late drunk or stoned, talking, and listening to nature with friends. Sex during that time was interesting. It was kind of like the postal service. Neither rain nor shine nor dead of night kind of thing....

Now as I drive around, I'm having hard time recognizing my neighborhood. My favorite field has been turned into a golf course. There's housing developments where I used to hike. And strip malls and fast food icks that people go to and then subsequently throw their trash out of their car windows just to make this place prettier, I guess. I know it's all too common to hear someone like me bitch about it, but when you see your favorite things and memory filled places bulldozed for oversized American ugliness you get a little sad and miffed.

At least my ex's parents place is still isolated. I still go there with PinkZilla of course. They love it there. YaYa (Tennesee Tilly after 5) and PaPou (Mr. Quintano by night) are my Ex-parent-in-laws. They have this awesome pool completely surrounded by trees and invisible to everyone who's not in an airplane or looking at satellite pictures. There's also a pond thirty feet off of it. It's also hidden by trees and has been the inspiration of many a spinetingling tale to tell gullible children. Kids love it. We go over a lot now since we live out here. Convenience sometimes is a secret love of mine.

At this pool one has to call ahead of time to ensure a thorough snake search (I hate copperheads). So it was a bit frustrating to me that the last time we went to YaYa's house to swim and we only swam for aproximately 10 minutes before dragging ourselves and the myriad of toys, drinks, and clothing back up to the house. It's a hike.

We got down there and YaYa searched the skimmers for any hidden friends. We found one. a large bullfrog. O Joy! O Rapture! We start swimming with said frog in pool. (He was probably shitting himself) 1 friend but now the "unfriendly" start to come:
1 horsefly deftly killed by YaYa.
1 wasp coming for drink and then politely leaving.
1 floating in the air spiderweb string that unfortunately landed on Pinkie.
1 other horsefly seeing who of his kind died (he left too).
1 dead ant floating in the water.

My Pinkie had enough. She was crying so pitifully! "Momma, pick me and take me back up to YaYa's!" I don't pick up 50 lbs of anything at this moment, so no way (chemo). I'm a mean mom. Both the Pinkie and Zilla were clinging to me like I could save them from the fate worse than death of being landed on by a bug. Butterflies are ok.

Are these really mine and PA's kids? Both of us were raised in the country, and now our offspring are afraid of bugs. I was actually priding myself on raising 2 animal-loving and nature-conscious children, so WTF? oh well. They're still my life and breath.

Whatever, Enarda. Tell them the truth.

Ok. Ok. I jumped and squealed this morning when a big bumblebee buzzed my head while watering the flowers.

2006-07-28T15:29:00.000-07:00

As I get further away from the AC treatments, there are small signs of healing that seem almost insignificant to others but raise my hopes and outlook on life. I had one of those small signs last night in the form of a very rich and delicious Triple Chocolate Cake.

My brother and his pregger wife were in town, and we were celebrating her birthday at a high priced Chucky Cheese's out at the Legends. I ate and ate and ate and still decided to eat dessert. I figure I deserve it. I wanted it, damn it. I haven't had sex since last December, and I wanted at least the endorphins the chocolate provide.

I could taste that slice of cake. It's been months since I've been able to taste sweet things. There was no metal taste. There was no "nothing" taste. It was heaven. I cried...in public. My brother tried to comfort me. The people sitting at the table to my right stared me. My mother exclaimed this to be my "worst year".

Those who know me, know that Me crying near anyone would have to mean something serious was effecting me. I had no clue that I would react that way, but I'm learning a lot about myself. (Like how to love 5 year old Me and late 20's Me) I have a lot more to learn about myself, and thankfully I'll have the rest of my life to learn it all. But right now I'm going to go eat a cookie.

2006-07-27T19:24:00.000-07:00

Imagine Ed Asner wearing a red plaid flannel robe with matching spaghetti-strap tank top and thong underwear. Now. Answer me this....why did I dream that?

2006-07-24T19:01:00.000-07:00

I have 3 more weeks till my last treatment! 1 till my next, but who cares? I can see the light at the end of this horrible tunnel! Add this one to my list of ten (now 11) things that make me smile.

2006-07-23T18:15:00.000-07:00

There is something oddly beautiful and yet slightly disturbing about Johnny Depp on a cereal box. I usually require breakfast to be somewhat healthy for the kids, but I had to buy this. You know it's for me.

Now if only they would make Jet Li or Bruce Lee into a cereal phenomenom I'd be happy.

2006-07-22T11:47:00.000-07:00

As a teeenager I heard a country song that made me despise the style until my later years. I just could not understand why the music was filled with God and country and love won or lost (yah yah that's most music) and in this particular one I just couldn't figure out why they made the song. Until Thursday.

You see the song was about how much the singer loved his dog. He actually recorded and produced a song about his dog. Ok. I was a cynical bitch growing up. Still am for the most part, but I learned something about myself on that Thursday. I love my dog.

I was giddy about it being only 97 degrees outside (?) and with the possibility of rain and cooler weather for the next day, so with Kool-Aid in hand and dog at feet I walked outside to enjoy the outdoor bathroom that Kansas had become this past week. I noticed 2 crazy cyclists coming up the road. Cyclists happen to be Chika's favorite prey, but our road is 30 MPH and routinely has people going 50 on it. That makes for a very unfriendly road. I kept Chi's eyes on me as I walked up to her and was just about to grab her when she heard the 2 men. She caught sight of them and bolted right after them.

I have been in pain these few days. It's the sideeffects. Every time my foot hit the ground as I hobbly ran after Chika, severe pain shot up my spine. I had to stop running. I kept screaming. Literally shrill screams. A car was coming. The driver slammed on her brakes but it was too late. I heard that heart wrenching thud and dog squeal. I dropped my glass and fell to the ground. I really don't think I could gracefully handle anymore crap in my life right now.

Luckily, my damndog came running towards me still squealing and yelping, tail between her legs. I was bawling. My little familiar was potentially killed by her stupidity and my bad ownership. My children saw of course and were running up trying figure out what they should do. The driver took note of the situation and came back. She felt so guilty. I kept telling her that it wasn't her fault. I feel sorry for her. She had her kids with her too.

Can you imagine? You're driving with your kiddos and run over some other kiddos' small dog in front of them while their bald chemopatient mother is screaming "NO" and falling to the ground crying. I feel sorry for her. That'd suck.

Fortunately, I didn't have a "Pets Are Small Tragedies Waiting To Happen" moment. She was just scratched, bruised, and scared shitless. I hope she (I) learned her (my) lesson

So now to the song and my inner gooiness. I love my dog. How could I not? She stayed with me and protected me during the horrible parts of this past year. I kept waking her up that night to make sure she was alive. I pissed her off a few times. That's a good thing. I remembered that song that night and finally understood it. I still don't like the tune, but I love the message.

2006-07-18T15:27:00.000-07:00

While at the oncologist's office today, I heard a bragging teenager showing off to his family his knowledge of the American language. He insisted that a certain word was not in our dictionary. What I can gather is that he either heard this gem of knowledge from an indiot and he didn't look it up or he had NO CLUE how to spell the word. The word was "gullible". His momma told him how to spell it and gave him the definition, but the boy insisted that it wasn't in the English dictionary.

Poor gullibe thing.

To be fair...I remember my adolescent insistence of my superior intellect. But now before a final judgement I want to be faced with the other side of the issue. I'm female I like it complicated.

2006-07-18T14:49:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you guys, but I'm trying real hard to understand our country's "liberal" (conservative) media's attempt to villify Lebanon when you take into account Israel's past history of unfair treatments of Palastinians, brutal retaliations towards terrorism (poor man's wars), and the current attempts of eradicating Hezbollah ( Southern Lebanese people).

I know you automatically know my position from this, but I'm still trying to figure it out. My fundamentalist folks are eagerly awaiting the Armegedon with a sickening childlike zeal. In past outbursts of mine I have described my dislike for the desertgod and its followers. It seems that they're trying their best for a self fullfilling prophecy at the expense of others. So the next quandry I come to is this: do I secretly want it to happen to get rid of all three sides of this silly tri-monotheist religion? I'm at a philisophical crossroad.

I understand I might sound like an antisemite. I'm not exactly. I just don't like policies of ethnic groups that decry their bumwrap while bestowing the same upon other ethnic groups. I understand the arab world not trusting them because of their arsenal either bought from US or made by them.

We certainly sell them hardware for interesting purposes. If you recall the American by the name Rachel ( I can't remeber her last name) who stood in front of the armed Catepillar bulldozer that destroyed not only the house that contained a family but the life of that 21 year-old woman.

That house was the home of a "suspected" hamas fighter not a convicted one. Seems harsh. To dislocate an entire family on the grounds of being relation, don't you think? I don't hear of justice when Israelis attack Palastinian kids on their way school seriously injurying their escorts. Fuck. All I worry about is my kids getting hit by a car. (They had an escort last year)

I'm not saying that the Palastinians are innocent. I remember the bomb that killed 11 one year-olds in a pizzeria a fews years back. I'm not saying Hezbollah is innocent. They did kill 8 and kidnap 2 another country's soldiers. By no means am I saying any of them are innocent. I'm just saying that the news media's coverage is so one sided to a country that has consistantly exasperated situations. Yes, I know who is the biggest monetary supporters of Israel. Stupid, stubborn, prideful, unempathetic people. all of 'em.

Sorry. I came home to find grandpa glued to FOX.

2006-07-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

Treatment number 6!

The festivities start the day before, so today I've had my blood drawn and quartered to see if my body's reacting negatively to this shit. Interesting word...negatively. Anyway, I eat my 5 steroids tonight and 5 tomorrow morning along with a benedryl and a pepcid. For afterwards I take 3 advils in the morning, 3 in the afternoon, and 3 in the evening to stave off painful aches and what not.

Ok now. Do you want to hear this part? If not don't read this paragraph. It's the reason why I might not get this treatment right away. I've been bleeding out my ass for well over a week. Do I win the embarassing poopshute story competition yet? Yes, I have an excuse, but still this is about to break the proverbial camel's back. I'll find out later if I get to go through with it, postpone it, or get a blood transfusion. If you read this and are grossed out...serves you right. I warned you.

But Dear Ones, I won't leave you in a dark formidable place such as that.

While all the commotion in my life seems to get me down, I do find lots of reasons to smile, laugh, and have a sense of peace.
1. I know my PinkZilla loves me (even when I'm cranky).
2. I know PinkZilla would be taken care of and loved if anything should ever happen to me.
3. I have kept not only 1 but 2 rose bushes alive and disease and pest free (thanks Bertha).
4. My dog doesn't leave my side except for a few minutes at a time.
5. The chicory is blooming. They're blue flowering weeds you'll see on the sides of roads in
Kansas. By far they're my favorite flower. They're tenacious.
6. I have an open road in front of me that's full of opportunities. (Did I mention blue flowers
make me happy?)
7. I have an interesting set of friends near and far that I love. Goddess bless 'em everyone.
8. I ran bald headed toward a group of about 20 men on bicycles (yum) with my arms waving
and screaming "sorry" (thanks, damn aforementioned dog). I really I wish had a camera.
9. I got to see a movie with my favorite things: giant octopus, beating hearts, & Johnny Depp.
'Tis the stuff dreams are made of. Yarggghhh!
10. I have a strong albeit extremely annoying woman behind me encouraging and pushing me
(thanks mom).

Some of this sounds silly, but seriously all of it and much more have made it so I don't fall into an emotional pit.

Kalli, thanks for your encouragement! You're an inspiration!

2006-07-05T12:13:00.000-07:00

I've been bald for about two months. Luckily, I've kept my eyebrows and lashes. I've noticed that those are starting to leave me now. I noticed that yesterday. yay.

I've been having vivid dreams since I don't sleep very well, but I never noticed my hair in those dreams. Now I've noticed that all of the dreams that I remember from last night were about my hair and different styles I could get with my hair.

I miss my hair. I didn't have exceptionally beautiful hair, but I liked it. I can't help but to wonder what started me to think about it. Could it be my bald cousin (male) who came over for a cookout and insisted that I spend the afternoon bald with him? My fear of taunts from the neighborhood teenagers that passed me by while I biked around the block that morning? (I biked! No, they didn't taunt. They just looked quizzical.) Could it be because I watched "Pretty in Pink"? (It had many interesting hairstyles from the early to mid 80's.) I think it was a combination of those three things.

Wow. The things aerosol spray could do! The things Bertha can do! I want an appointment for a color and a cut! Yarrgh! All this bemoaning the loss of hair, but I still don't want to put a wig on yet! Go figure.

2006-07-02T14:33:00.000-07:00

I had a bit of a deja vu last night. My folks had friends over last night for a game of cards. That's been a tradition with this couple ever since I was about Eva's age. The deja vu was what me and the tykes decided to watch. Drunken Master. Jackie Chan in his earlier years.

I spent much of my childhood watching old kung fu movies because those very same people who came over last night didn't have girls to play with and god forbid me playing with the boys. So lonely girl me had to content herself with Kung Fu Theater on channel 62.

I learned early the thrills of loud kicks, swooshing fabric noises, and the occasional clanging of weapons. Those nights began in me a desire to learn about other cultures and eat foods other than the meat and potatoes my farm raised mother prepared every night. I also believe it started the division of understanding between me and the rest of my family.

This division is still alive and well. (I know you all feel that gap in understanding between you and your folks.) While the guests were leaving, the last most important fight was taking place. My father who loves good Manly male on male violence in movies sat down to watch it. He didn't get it. There was heart in it that he didn't pick up on. You know. The whole Asian familial piety thing. It gets lost on a man who still wants to be John Wayne or Clint Eastwood in his younger years. (Clint's too emotionally complex now and violence should always be used to defend your vulnerable woman or child)

Now comes my Proud Momma Moment. My kids decided to emulate the movie by taking turns being teacher and student. Kicking and punching into the air and imitating the silly pratfall antics that Jackie Chan puts into all his movies.

Grandpa was beside himself. He flat out told me that these movies were inappropriate for kids. I asked him of his lack of concern of what I did when the cards were dealt while I was gowing up. He then pointed out the "bad" outcome I've had. Interesting.

I had to smile throughout the whole conversation because not once did my PinkZilla hurt themselves or stop playing. I think I might get through to my babies yet even though we're here in ultra-christian-land.

2006-06-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

We're almost moved in, and we're adjusting to life at the old folk's home. It will be interesting to say least. To get our stuff here we enlisted the help of friends and family and then treated them to beer and BBQ. This was a tiring week, but it's almost over.

Two nights ago we watched 5 foxes play on my new/old neighbor's driveway. It was great! My kids were taking their baths,and I told them to get out and take a look. Grif jumped out and ran to their room where we could see them. Eva stayed in her bath. She has a habit of not listening to anyone. Finally Grif couldn't stand it any more. He started hollering at her to get out or she'd miss 'em. She jumped out, I handed her a towel, and she ran to the bedroom. She watched the foxes for awhile getting all giddy and dropping her towel on floor. I had walked back to my room when I heard her giggling and yelling something at the top of her voice. I turned and saw a small, naked, pink human skipping down the hallway screaming, "it's exciting! It's exciting! It's exciting!".

There are somethings that are going to happen here that will make this all worthwhile.

2006-06-04T09:48:00.000-07:00

I have one last treatment to go through. I kicked PA out for not helping in the hairiest (baldest) of times. I moved in with my folks to have someone around during the scariest of moments.

I'm scared of the next one. The last one I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking that if I fell asleep, I'd die. I kept hearing cracking noises, and if anything moved, I saw tracers just like I did when I tripped in highschool/ early college. The first one I thought of death. The second I just thought sucked. This one I actually thought I was dying. That's a weird feeling. I don't want it ever again.

I couldn't take care of PinkZilla. I needed someone in the medical field around me. PA was smoking crack that whole time completely oblivious to what was going on in his home. This why we're at my folks. It's temporary (2 weeks more). I know you Goddesses would've helped if you could, but I kept thinking that at 11:30 on a Saturday night either ya'll be out or asleep with your children. It would've been hard to find someone able to come over. So no guilt trips please!

I'll be back out in good old Lawrence soon. I come out almost everyday. I literally have no energy, but that won't stop me from getting in my yard for short amounts or starting a project sitting down. It was good to see the Goddeses and their friends that I saw this weekend. It really cheered me up. Thanks.

2006-05-17T08:18:00.000-07:00

I was nervous and embarrassed about my shaved head. I still don't like males staring at me. That happened this morning at a gas station where there were swarming landscapers and contactors. PA was kind and told me I was still beautiful when he noticed my reaction to the situation.

Later in the morning I took a shower. I now have less hair than my last boyfriend. I'm going to have PA bic it when PA gets home. It's funny cuz now even though I cried about the cancer, I have more confidence about the hair (scalp) thing. It's true. Baldness can be liberating and strangely beautiful. I kind of like it.

It's obvious that I have the esteem of a lowly worm, and I used my hair as a security blanket to shield me from (supposed) looks and judging of folk that don't mean a damn thing in my life. Silly goose that I am. In my younger years I found shocking behavior hilarious, but as an adult I didn't want to be looked at by anyone. Now I'm going to test myself even more. I will have to find my worth and beauty without some of the things that women make worthy (beautiful).

I don't like saying that but deep down or even at the surface we all have to acknowledge the societal temperaments towards "accepted" beauty. I'm not talking about personal preference, but generalized attitudes even the most stout hearted people can unwittingly take to heart and mind.

I think everyone of you is gorgeous. I don't flatter and can't stand insincerity. I don't like sameness. I get bored easily. Thank Goddess ya'll are different. Goddesses and Queens. You know there's a few fellas I have to acknowledge as well. Mazel Tav to you all!