Looking for prayers and good wishes

Do I give you too much sad/bad news? If so, you can be honest with me. I'll take it all into consideration. But first we need to talk about Gail.

Again, not the Gail of Chuck and Gail, my other Gail. I told you a little bit ago that she'd had surgery for a brain tumor. I got more news about her situation today.

She is having another surgery tomorrow, in an attempt to remove more of the tumor. Then they will attack with daily chemo and radiation for six weeks, then put her onto an oral chemo for up to a year.

The journey to this point took them to neuro-oncologhy appointments at Duke Medical at the university in North Carolina and to Sloan Kettering in New York before they decided to place themselves in the hands of the staff at Brigham and Women's and Dana Farber here in Boston. It presents itself with the promise of being a log, hard journey.

I am overwhelmed with sadness at the dire description of what is coming for Gail and her family. I can only hope and pray they they are all in the best possible hands.

I don't know what else to do at this moment but pray. I hope you have one you can share with me, for Gail and her husband Roger, her children Anne and Colin and her new granddaughter Francesca. Bless them, every one of them.

Thank you.

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It was harder than I though it would be

I took a friend to her chemotherapy appointment yesterday.

It was strange to go back into a chemo center. It's a place that's highly sensory: the smells, sights, and sounds came back to me like I'd been there the day before. If you watch and really pay attention you can feel the seriousness that's bubbling just below the surface.

Chemo is a place you go to hold off dying for a while, and if you're lucky, you make that while a long one. People smile and speak in hopeful tones but if you watch them carefully enough, you see it as a kind of trained response. It's their job to get the poison into your system and it's their job to make you believe it's going to make a difference.

I thought I got out of it without any scars, but last night, when Dave told me he was proud of me for what I'd done, I burst into tears and had a good cry. I don't ever want to go back into one of those places, but if I have to, I will.

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A mini sermon for your Sunday

I've sent you to PeaceBang's blog before, and I'm going to send you there again. Find five quiet minutes and read her blog entry dated Saturday, November 1 and titled "Pastoral Letter to Those Toiling in the Vineyards."

The overall message is written to help souls troubled over the goings on in their spiritual congregations, but it's a strong message about striking a balance and getting along with people who have a different point of view.

It's PeaceBang's usual, powerful stuff and you should read it.

Go.

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The real fright this Halloween

Cancer is knocking in threes today.

ONE
I'm putting out a call for prayers, for Gail (not the Gail of "Chuck and Gail" fame, another Gail). She is recovering from recent surgery for a brain tumor and starting the long journey of exploration and decision about how to move forward with her treatment. Please find a little place in your heart and carry her there.

TWO
I'll head back an oncology center week from today when I accompany my friend Susan for her chemotherapy session. She's having a damn nasty time with her treatment for her second round with the devil. I offered to go an hold her good hand during a treatment and she opted for next Friday. I told her that if she's very good I'll take her roller skating when her treatment is done. Hey, you have to go forward with a little levity and a smile. If you don't all you can do is weep and that gets real old real fast.

THREE
It's Halloween, my late father's favorite holiday (I swear). He found such joy answering the door and chattering with all of the bell ringers. He feigned fright at the monsters and melted a little for the princesses. He had fun with the night, and I try to do the same. If not for his damned cancer, he'd be around tonight to revel in the excitement. This is one of those days when I miss him most, even after all these years.

So, for Gail and Susan and Bruce... Let's beat the bastard.

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Donate a Mammogram

Hey, here's something you can do and it only takes a couple of mouse clicks.

Go to this Web site and click through to donate a mammogram. It's legit and it might save a life. DO it every day... and share the site with everyone in your address book.

Thanks!

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I did it!

I turned 55 yesterday and celebrated by getting a tattoo. I've wanted one for years, been talking about it for ages, and serious about it for a couple of months. It's a cartoon-style drawing of the namesake of my late father's weekly newspaper column, Bennett Noble. If you knew my dad you know that writing was his passion, whether he was taking shots at local politics, debating the silliness of life, or making profound statements of his affection for his family and friends.

His 1970s-80s-90s columning was today's blogging and believe me, if her were around today he'd be having a blogger's field day.

So anyway, here it is. Me and Ben. A touch of pink in his flower and we have the "Think Pink for October" thing covered.

Want some ink of your own? Check out Masterpiece Tattoo in Salem NH. Ask for Matt Isaacs



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It feels great to be great

Saw my oncologist today. Everything is perfect--my blood counts, immune system, life style. CEA (cancer marker in the blood) dropped again (thanks, Dave!)

Life is good. Celebration is in order.

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In 1975 . . .

• The average cost of new house was $39,300
• Average annual income was $14,100
• Average monthly rent was $200
• The price of oil topped $13.00 per barrel
• Gas was 44 cents a gallon
• You put that gas in a car that cost $4,250
• The Vietnam War ended when Communist forces took Saigon and South Vietnam surrendered unconditionally
• Former Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa disappeared
• Bill Gates and Paul Allen develop a BASIC program for the Altair 8800
• Popular movies included “Jaws,” “Towering Inferno,” “Young Frankenstein,” and “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”

And on this date, Dave and I got married.

{end of post, but not of the love affair}

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A year ago today...

...my doc told me I needed to have chemotherapy. My, time flies, eh??

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One out of three

I'm not sure what constitutes a good baseball batting average, but I'd be willing to guess that .333 is acceptable. Well, one out of three isn't good enough for me. I needed to know we were batting a thousand. Three friends stood up to their medical fears this week and only one came away with a clean bill of health.

My friend Susan had a biopsy and learned that her cancer is back. While no adventure with cancer is one to cheer, this one sounds like it has the potential to be extremely unpleasant.

My friend Eunice went into her biopsy with her doctor's assurance that things looked negative on all the advance tests, and that her biopsy was more of a final "rule out." Instead, tonight she sits in the ICU missing a good bit of her left lung.

Steve was the only one who beat the odds. His cardiologist saw something he didn't like in the tests, an apparent major blockage in one of the arteries leading into Steve's heart. So they snaked a tiny camera up from his groin and when they got the heart, the blockage was gone. Steve said the doctor was quite surprised... and very pleased.

Steve said a friend told him that when she practiced her reiki, she felt the presence of other people sending him positive energy. I don't understand the ways of reiki, but she told Steve that those who were praying sort of "willed" the blockage out of his heart. He's taking a second look at the power of positive thinking a prayer.

Whatever happened, it's one bit of good news I hoped to hear this week. I just wish it had been good news all the way around.

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"If Jesus had a wallet..."

"If Jesus had a wallet, your picture would be in it." That was the message I got, in a round about kind of way, in an email yesterday from my sister. I thought she was paying me a supreme compliment. Instead I find out the statement was written on a sign outside a church in Maine and it has become the new cute phrase of praise.

So my friend Susan got bad news on her biopsy done Friday. She's headed to chemotherapy and radiation--again. She had ovarian cancer in 2006 and damned if the cancer hasn't sprouted in a new location to create havoc and heartache. It just plain sucks, hugely so, and my heart breaks for her. I told her to keep me posted on her chemo treatment days and said I'd go with her. I'll crack jokes, tell bad stories, and do my best to make a miserable experience a percent or two easier to bear. Maybe.

That's about it. What else might Jesus have carried in his wallet? A condom? Library card?

Oh, one more thing. Christina Applegate, who recently announced that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, has undergone treatment and today said she is 100% cancer clear. I heard the same thing myself last June... and it wasn't quite true. I just don't believe you're ever really free.



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Do you believe?

What's up with the power of positive thinking? Does it help to pray when you need guidance to find your way, or relief to help shoulder a heavy load?

Who knows. I've gone back and forth for many years. Some days I'm with the plan, other days I feel like I have to go it by myself. My bottom line is that it begins with me and it travels through me, and I'm the one that will make it happen or not. "It" is whatever it is at the moment. It's all a little sketchy, and I'm sure this is all about as clear as mud.

I was talking with a friend a little earlier this evening and as she always does, she asked how I'm doing. I'm aces, I told her, life is pretty good.

It's been quite a year. I told her about the buckets of prayers people said for me, about the trees that gave their lives for the cards and notes I received. I told her that if I learned one thing in the last year, it's that the power of positive thinking, the power of prayer, the assistance and support of friends and coworkers, and—most importantly and without question—the love and encouragement of my family carried me through some pretty dark times.

So, do I believe? I do believe I do.

And now, if you can share some love and hope, please put Anita and Nancy on your Thoughtful List. I do believe it will help them on their respective travels.

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Normal!

That's the word from my doc. All tests were normal, there is nothing of note or concern. No need for surgery or other follow up. He'll see me in six months for another mammogram, and if all is well then, I can go on the "I'll see you in 12-months" plan.

"Normal" never sounded so good!

So, no more breast cancer talk for a long time.

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2,600

Who ever popped on under Comcast a few moments ago was the 2,600th reader since Dave put the counter on my blog last year. That's pretty cool.

I'm off to see the surgeon this morning, so we can talk about whatever the hell pathological scarring is, why it's in my left breast, and whether it needs to come out. From what I've read and heard from people in the business who should know about these things, surgery is a good bet. We'll see.

I'd rather be without it if it will cause problems down the road.

Got spare prayers? I'm continuing to hold Jan's nephew Matthew in mine and hope you can add him to your list. Thank you. She sys it means so much.

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We're out of vodka

How the hell did that happen?



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Wonderful Sunday

It's been a pretty terrific day.

Started off with coffee with my mother here at Chez Leland Road (she spent the night so she could celebrate Brother Ted's 50th locally).

I served as worship leader this morning at church. Sermon summary in 25 words: There is something nice, good, or beautiful in all of my daily chores and challenges, I just have to look for it. And I will.

Saw my phone friend Eunice. She's healthy, and that's what's important. We made a promise that when we're done with our various medical tests and such, we're going to go out and celebrate with a glass of wine. Or a martini.

Got a call from Cousin Peter, who was sharing a book with his wife Laura at a Hartford CT-area coffee shop. I asked the title. "What to Expect When You Are Expecting," he replied. I cried.

Drove up to Seabrook and spent a couple of hours at the beach with Aunt and Uncle Nancy and Mike Thornton and half of their children (Kathy and Dan), half of their children-in-law (Krista and Mary Litton), one S.O. (Phil) , and 7 of 9 grandchildren (Lauren, Connor, Ben, Dan, Owen, Jack, and Lizzie). it was good fun, as it always is when we are together.

Came home to find that Dave mowed the lawn. I love that smell! Now it's my job to get out there and have at the weeds.

But it's raining. Again. Thunder and lightning. Can't weed in the rain, right? I'll have a drink instead and toast all the wonderfulness that was today.

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Finding my voice

The phone rang. Someone asked me to do something and I said "No." She persisted, I said "No" again, and she kept at it. I said "No" a third time and politely hung up on her.

I am SO proud of myself on a number of levels. For going with my first instinct, which was to say "No." For sticking with it and not giving in. I'm prone to giving in, or rather, for saying "Yes" when I really don't want to.

So here's the story.

A woman called from the American Cancer Society and asked me to take part in the "Notes to Neighbors" campaign. The ACS provides you with names and address of 20 of your neighbors. They give you all the literature, the "please donate" letters, 20 mailing envelopes and 20 more envelopes that you address back to yourself (so the neighbors can mail you their donations).

You sign the letters, address the large envelopes, put your address on the smaller ones, put stamps on all 40 envelopes, mail the 20 packages, sit back and wait for the donations to come in, and mail those to the ACS.

Pretty simple. A small investment (40 stamps times what is it these days... 41 or 42 cents each, plus a few more to mail in the donations, and a little time).

So, why did I say "No" you ask? BECAUSE I JUST DID IT A FEW MONTHS AGO.

Back to the phone call.

She asked me to participate. I said some like "Gee, didn't I just do this?" She agreed that I did and said the ACS does this twice a year. I told her no, I didn't want to ask the neighbors again quite so soon and offered to do it in six months.

She pushed on through her script and told me that it's an important effort and that they really need my help. I said I was sorry, but I can't help at the time.

She turned to the page in her script that tells her what to say when she'd been told "No" twice."

"Mrs. Richards, the American Cancer Society depends on volunteers like yourself to..." And I cut her off.

I responded.

"I know the American Cancer Society depends on volunteers like me. You depend on cancer patients like me. Within weeks of my diagnosis you were contacting me to volunteer and make donations and you haven't stopped asking. I explained that I will not ask my neighbors again, so soon, to make another donation. We are all asked to donate to causes constantly. I cannot help you at this time. Thanks so much for calling." And I hung up the phone.

And I felt really good about the way I handled it. I didn't want to do it, for reasons that are important to me, and I said "no" and hung in there.

Now, if the way I handled the request bothers you, you have a couple of options. You can take your checkbook or your credit card and make a donation to the ACS. You can call them and become a "Notes to Neighbors" volunteer.

I try to make it a practice not to ask other people to donate to a cause. I respect your causes and support your right to support them. I can't give to every one of everyones' special causes, and for that very reason, I don't push mine on them.

Everyone has a hand out. There are endless requests for money and I don't have enough to do all the things I'd like do. When it comes to breast cancer alone, there are plenty of opportunities to help, whether it's the Susan G. Koman Foundation, Relay for Life events, three-day walks, and more pink ribbons on more products from grapefruit to cereal to soda.

There's an ad in this week's TIME magazine. The LEE Jeans company wants us all to wear jeans on October 3 and donate $5 to "help someone you love fight breast cancer." Check out their sight at deminday.com, but only if you wish. I'm not asking you to participate. (Click the link if only to learn how to fold a dollar bill into the shape of a heart. It's kinda cool.)

It's all about choices. You have yours and I have mine. When they match, it's nice. When they don't, it's about respecting our differences.

P.S. There is not doubt that I benefited from a dollar bill collected by a volunteer somewhere back in time. I'm not ungrateful for all that I've received and been given. And I will continue to help and "pay it forward" in my own way.

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Fine!

That's what Mike Lowell is getting ready to say in this photo.

"Fine!"

Perhaps the Nice Umpire invited Mike out for a beer after the game. Or asked after Mike's wife and family.

Actually, the Nice Umpire has just invited Mike to leave the game after he (the Nice Umpire) made a bad call on a questionable third strike. So Mike was probably saying, "Fine! I'll take you up on that beer. I'll go shower, get changed, and warm up the car so we can get out of the parking lot before the crowd!"

Whatever. I like Mike, and whatever he had to say, it's fine with me.
{End of post. FINE!}

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Happy Birthday, Ted

Today is my baby brother Ted's 50th birthday. Which means, among things, that I am over 50. Actually it drives home, quite forcefully, that I'm over 50.

Whatever.

Enjoy, Ted. Have a wonderful birthday.

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Back to reality

As usual, all good things must come to an end, and so does my brief get-away to the farm in Maine. It was a fairly splendid trip all around: good friends, good food (including lobster and blueberry ale), a few trinkets from Mexicali Blues, and the opportunity to read a couple of Elmore Leonard novels on the porch. Good stuff to be sure.

There were a couple of incidents worthy of note:

• I was offered the senior citizen discount at a Chinese food buffet. I declined and paid full price.
• I got bagged for jaywalking in the hamlet of Damariscotta. The nice policeman let me off with a verbal but stern warning never to do it again.
  
• I christened the new stove at the farm by melting a plastic colander in the oven.

And tomorrow I get to go back to work where I'm sure there are fire smoldering that will ruin Tuesday.

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Outta here

Going to Maine this morning... the farm... Friendship Sloop Society's annual regatta and homecoming in Rockland.

Don't have any fun without me. Don't get into the car with anyone who has been drinking. Feed the cat.

See ya next week!

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This is what I did yesterday afternoon

Holloran Country Club, Pool, and Spa. It was wicked good.

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Breakfast with the Sistas

Had breakfast this morning (a three-hour affair) with Tanya and Debbie, my Breast Cancer Sistas. It's a once-every-couple-of-months event that always feels good, from the anticipation of spending time with two wonderful people to actually being together.

Time seems to stand still when we sit down over two coffees, one tea, scrambled eggs, a cheese omelet, and a pair over easy with pancakes (I think we each order the same thing every time!)

It's so easy to talk and share what's in my heart and head to these two remarkable women. They've been where I've been--shared the wonders, the what-if worries, been afraid and brave, intimidated and confident, and most of all, been good friends through a process that at times seemed impossible to comprehend.

Through every conversation they offered me nothing but encouragement and support. They always validate my concerns, never make my fears seem trivial, and I hope that I've always given them the same care and respect.

They are important people in my support network, but I want them for more than their support. I want them in my life for the friendship they give so willingly. When I am with them--even though we share a common bond that each of us would gladly do without--the bond seems distant and unimportant. It's not what defines us. It's just the chance that brought us together.

I wish I had a photo of the three of us to share. Next time, for sure, we'll have that usually grumpy waitress snap a picture.



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Note the time on this post....

Dave and I just rolled in from an evening at The Black Rose in Boston. PJ is in bed and sound asleep. That hasn't happened in years.

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Benign!

Wonderful news! It's benign! I don't know what I'd have done if the news had been bad.

Biopsy shows pathological scarring, backed up by the mammogram films. Nurse says doc may want to surgically remove that scarring. Not sure what all that means. I'll do some reading and see if I can figure it out. In the mean time. I have an MRI Tuesday as a followup and a date with the doc on July 30 to discuss whatever may be next.

But before then, there's a little celebratory beverage consumption planned for later today.

OK, I gotta go back to work...

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I am invisible

(Stand by, I'm in a mood...)

Invisible! I must be! What other explanation is there as to why on two occasions, and within moments, people stepped in front of me as I waited my turn at Wal-mart earlier this evening?

First at the photo counter. A chick in a little black dress (and huge earrings that had to be cubic zirconia) waltzed around me to stand next in line to pick up photos. She opened her wallet and started digging through receipts and before offered assistance, announced she was there to pick up her photos. Duh. When I lifted my arms as if to say "Huh?" to the clerk, the clerk asked if she could assist me. The chick in the black dress looked over her shoulder and gave me the "Who the f%$# are YOU looking at?" look. I got my photos, politely thanked the nice clerk for first taking care of the person who really was next in line, and went on my way.

Off to the hair accessory aisle to swap something I'd grabbed earlier for something else. There was someone looking through the accessories while blocking the display with her shopping cart. As I waited for her to move, a woman and her daughter blew in, moved the carriage, and proceeded to paw through the merchandise. I was a split second from putting my hand on the woman's shoulder and asking her to wait her turn when I recognized her. She attends my church. Part of me isn't surprised by her rude boldness. She does it well. I hope she reads this.

She and her daughter stood blocking the displays while they debated which item to buy. I finally reached over her head to put back the item I was holding and didn't bother to hang around to find what I wanted. I had all I could to to ignore her husband who stood waiting at the head of the aisle (and looking a tad ignored himself, come to think about it). If I'd spoken it wouldn't have been to say anything polite.

Which leads me to ask myself why I let people who clearly have little to offer by way of gracious behavior (a) treat me that way or (b) push me into such a state of frenzy. None of the irritation is worth the points it scored on my blood pressure reading.

What's better, speaking up when someone is rude, or standing back and allowing them to continue their selfish ways, and worse, instill in their children that it's OK to treat others with so little regard?

There, I feel better already.

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Fun, fun, fun!

What's the most fun you can have AFTER a breast biopsy? Having a mammogram!

"Why is this necessary?" I asked.

"To document we did the procedure and to give you a new baseline," the nice woman said.

Good reasons. Now we wait for results. Pass me an ice pack.

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Hot and steamy, and I don't mean me

OMG, it's SO hot and humid and awful outside. How do people live in the tropics? I'd do nothing but be crabby all day.

I'd like to design my own place to live. Put everything I want around me on a huge sliding plate--family and friends, Market Basket and Lucci's, a New Hampshire state liquor store, the gym, the office--(you get the idea), then dial up a new location based on temperature and weather conditions and slide everything around. Need some rain for the plants and grass? Dial it up. Need enough snow to close the office for a day? Return to mid-70's and no humidity the next. Cool enough every evening to sleep under a blanket with the windows open.

Maybe in my next life.

I'm rediscovering the joy of reading books. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? I haven't found time (made time) to read for pleasure in a very long time. It's a personal treat I seem only to provide myself when I'm on vacation in Maine. I'm changing that.

I used to spend my commute to and from work listening to books on tape or CD. I have a list in my wallet that must have 200 titles on it (in 8-point type) of the books and authors I've enjoyed over the years. It would frustrate me to find an author I like and get the same title again and again because I'd forget which books I'd listened to. Hence the list.

I started commuting to the office with a coworker a few months ago (and in May, Dave came to work for my company too), so my on-the-road-to-work listening time went away with $3 gas. I miss my time with Sanford, the Pattersons, Grisham, Woods, and friends.

So, I'm back to reading. It means carving "me" time out of the day, which isn't always easy to do. Dave helped me put a book on CD through the computer and into iPod files recently, I got to enjoy it while on the treadmill at the gym. That's always a possibility.

Today is biopsy day. Just can't wait to get this over with, hear the news and move along. Has to be negative, right?

Please share some love and prayers today with Jan's nephew Matthew.

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Aunt Sis

Dave's Aunt Sis died earlier this evening. It's a moment that had been coming for a while now. She battled cancer over the last two years and did the best she could, but in the end that damn disease got the better of her.

She was a character, and I say that in the nicest of ways. She always seemed to be laughing and joking, and as Dave said just a few minutes ago, "we dug at each other." They were always carrying on about something, making it larger than it really was. But they did it with love for one another and that made it fun to watch the two of them go after each other. She faced some tough times through the years and still always had that smile.

Today is the 4th of July, Independence Day. I think it's rather fitting that today is the day she died. She gained her independence over cancer. Unfortunately it takes her away from the people who love her.

We took in a fire works show tonight in Salem (it was spectacular). I couldn't help but smile as I watched, thinking about Sis. I swear I heard her thundering about her new freedom in some of those explosions. And there was a new color I've never seen before in some of the bursts, a soft sage/seafoam green. It had to be a little of her in that new color. It was a happy color, another message. "I'm OK now, don't fret."

Dave is going to miss his Aunt Sis. And I'm going to miss her too.

Wake 4-8 PM Monday, July 7, 2008
Funeral 10 AM Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Both from:

James H. Delaney & Son Funeral Home
48 Common Street
Walpole, Massachusetts 02081

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Another milestone

Just took the blow dryer to my head of curls. It's SO DAMN HOT AND HUMID that I can't stand it. PJ and I walked around the lake in Wakefield earlier and the consensus was that I needed (badly) to take a shower.

So now there's a thunderstorm percolating just to the south and it's pretty steamy. There isn't much worse that a wet head of hair when the humidity is off the charts.

I did the only logical thing, I grabbed the blow dryer and had at my hair. First time in, hell, I don't know, almost 9 months? My hair came out in October. Not only did I dry it, I brushed and blew out the curls. So it's straight! But remember, it's humid. It won't last!

Time to shut down and get away from the electrical outlets. I'm a chicken in a thunder storm!

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Wait, let me think... OK, let's!

So, I had my first post-breast cancer mammogram the other day. Wasn't the most fun I've had in a long time, particularly when the tech said, "Come on back with me, I need to take more images." That's not usually a good sign.

Bottom line (cling peaches), there's a cluster of calcification in my left breast and I'm having a stereotactic biopsy on July 9. I'm not freaking out about it, there's no sense. Not yet, anyway.

Over the last year I've become much more involved in my own health care (as I hope you are involved in yours). I ask lots of questions and rarely accept remarks and comments without engaging the speaker in an explanatory conversation.

When we went back into the imaging room I stepped up to the tech's work station and monitor and asked. "So, what are you looking at?" She pointed out the area of interest--a single bright white spot and a small cluster of tiny white dots. She said she wasn't sure which caught the attention of the radiologist who read the first images and said she was going to reimage each. That done, I waited some more. The tech came back and asked questions about my prior treatment (dates and numbers of chemo and radiation sessions, and the name of the drug I'm taking and how long I've been on it).

I saw my surgeon that same day, who seemed almost apologetic when he told me the radiologist was suggesting a biopsy. Did I mind, he asked? Was I sure I didn't mind?

What the $#@&? Do I mind? OF COURSE NOT! He says they probably wouldn't be suggesting this action but for my prior history. Which leads me to wonder--is this going to be the standard for the rest of my life? Biopsy after biopsy chasing possibilities?

If you believe the medical professionals (and I'm leaning that way), I should be good for about five years. Between the chemo and the drugs there should be little chance of a recurrence or new episode. But that's a "should be," not a guarantee.

I know I have options, but frankly, it's all too much to think about right now. Nothing is going to change in the next few weeks. I'll have the biopsy on July 9, get results in a few days, and follow up with the surgeon on the 30th. At that time we'll make decisions (if there are any to be made) or accept congratulations on a clean slate (albeit temporary??) make a date for another routine follow up in six months.

I prefer the later.

Got a spare prayer? Please remember Ted's friend Christian.

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Closing out the L-O-N-G weekend

It's only mid-day on Sunday but I'm already ready to call it a day and go to bed. It's been a busy few days:

Friday: IKEA tour with MVM. Only spent $21 (as Dave says, it wasn't worth the gas to go). But it was. I saw lots of things I want, a number of things I need, and am loaded with ideas for better storage of all the "stuff" we hold near and dear to our hearts.


Saturday: Cookout at my friend Steve's house in Windham. Nice time. Back in the company of some other former Eagle-Tribune writers and editors (Chris, Paul, Melissa, and of course Steve). We took the opportunity to grumble, bitch, and bad-mouth the place, and it occurs to me that one of the good things about my time there was, without a doubt, the friendships I made with some truly good people, these four among the best.

Saturday night: We've been counting down to the final episode of "The Sopranos," catching the final season series on cable (A&E). We don't have HBO and watched previous seasons on DVD from the video store. Unable to wait any longer, we rented the final five episodes and watched them all last night. It was a long night on the couch but wow, what a final--to see the way it all came together to the moment the screen went black. It was a bold finale.

Sunday: Breakfast with MVM, my bother Ted, sister-in-law Cindy and favorite nephew Ted. To be clear and fair, I also have a favorite nephew Tom.

Now I have to pay for all that time off last week. There's work to be done for the office and I have to start prepping for the July 17-19 Friendship Sloop regatta in Rockland, Maine. Short work week next week (July 4 holiday), short week the following week (read today's 11:20 a.m. post), short week the next (a few days in Maine for the races).

Then it will be almost-August. Time is flying, isn't it?

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L-o-n-g Weekend

It's Friday and I'm not at the office, how cool is that? I took a "V" day to go play at IKEA with my mother (MVM). She gave me a gift card to IKEA for Christmas and it's burning a hole in my wallet. Besides, it's always good to spend a day with MVM.

PJ is off the the Farm for the weekend, so MVM is coming to see us, go shopping, enjoy a Dave-burger on the grill (please??) and do a cookout tomorrow with my friend Steve.

Steve owns a couple of newspapers ("Whips' Wheels" and "Methuen Life") and on occasion asks me to write a story. I just finished a piece on the new owner of "The Ship" restaurant in Lynnfield; it's good fun to get my name on an occasional byline. I really do miss my newspaper days.

So, like, OK, gotta go start the day for real. Be good!

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My new toy

Got myself a new phone last night, the Verizon Palm, a phone with a Palm organizer and camera. Now I can keep track of where I need to be, call you if I'm going to be late, and if necessary, take and send you a photo of the reason I am delayed.

What did we do before we had all this funky technology to keep us on track?

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Another milestone

Today is the one-year anniversary of my blog. Drinks all around!

Thanks for being part of the magic.

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Trash Police

We have a new trash collection policy here in town, effective on July 1. We already pay a fee for curbside pickup, and it's jumping from $180 to $226 a year. We're also now limited to four 30-gallon containers a week and each can not exceed 50 pounds.

Hence my first question: Is there a scale on the trash truck to determine whether my barrel weights 49 pounds or tips at 51 pounds?

The other part of new policy is what's called "Visual Recycling." If the trash hauler determines through visual inspection that my trash contains material that should be recycled, they won't take the trash.

I am supposed to separate my recyclables and put them curbside in a recycling bin.

I admit I'm not as good about recycling as I should be when it comes to items other than paper. I have a recycling bin hidden nicely under a table in the dining room (the table is covered with a table cloth, so you can't see the bin). The bin is home to newspapers, magazines, flattened food boxes, and paper we generate (if it's sensitive it gets shredded) and anything else I can label as recyclable paper. Once a month (or so) I pull out the bin, bag up the contents, and lug it out to the curb (or smile sweetly at Dave or PJ and ask them to take it out).

Where I fall down is on cans, glass, and plastic. I don't have a place to store these items while we all wait for the next collection day. Sounds lame, but it's the truth. This is a small 6-room house and there's no good place to do it on the main floor. Recycling in the basement isn't particularly convenient. We don't have a garage.

Our trash barrels are on the edge of the property and a favorite target of four-legged woodland neighbors when there's something of particular interest waiting to go away on trash day. If I had a dime for every time we've come out in the morning to find the contents of the trash chewed, shredded and strewn across the yard we'd be rich.

In the summer I sometimes have to take to putting garbage in the freezer until trash day, just to keep it "safe" from the raccoons. But that makes the ice cubes smell and taste bad.

We've talked about building a secure enclosure for the barrels for years. Doing so would allow me to be a better recycler because I could go outside with the occasional can or glass bottle.

The excuses are many and all rather silly, but I know I have to do a better job at it. I think a small container of some kind out on our little deck, disguised perhaps as a bench, might do the trick. As long as I can secure the contents, we should do fine.

All of this may be moot. This morning Dave told me that he saw a snake over by the trash barrels yesterday. That news is enough to keep me in the house until a hearse arrives to carry me away. He said it was a small snake. "Small" is in the eye of the beholder. I'm of the opinion that all snakes are large enough to grab me by my ankles and pull me to the ground. It may not otherwise hurt me, but I know at the least it would hiss in my face and say something like, "You think I'm scary? You should meet my uncle Tony Snake-prano. Lady, he'll eat you alive with a nice Chianti."

If only to avoid the snake, I'll find a way to be a better recycler. Where there's one snake there are surely more. And I don't particularly like the idea of the trash police deciding whether I'm following the rules.

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Marriott vs. Sheraton

We went out to dinner tonight with our friends Chuck and Gail, to the buffet at the Sheraton in Lynnfield. Gail is a five-star employee of the Marriott Hotel chain. When the waitress handed Gail her check and a Sheraton pen with which to sign the credit card receipt, Gail didn't skip a beat--she opened her purse, took out a Marriott pen, signed the receipt and tucked the Marriott pen in with the signed receipt. The Sheraton pen "disappeared."

That's how you chip away at the competition. I wonder how long it will take someone to notice the switch.

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Life is too short...

to wear sock with holes
drink crappy beer
have breast cancer (today is the one-year anniversary of my diagnosis)

What can you add? I'll add to the list and we can watch it grow.

Dave offered several, here are the highlights (it's my blog, I get to pick)
to drink white beer
fold underwear

From Kathy Rose:
Life is too short to iron .. well, anything.
Life is too short to yell at your kids for leaving the lights on.
Life is too short to talk to telesales people.
Life is too short to worry about what other people think of your clothes, your cooking ability, or how clean your house is.
Life is too short to keep track of how many times you've been insulted (and who did it).

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Unwanted guest

Insomnia dropped by recently and decided to stay for a few days. Insomnia and I have had a relationship (notice I didn't call it a "friendship") for a while, and now that Aromasin is part of my life, Insomnia shows up more often than she used to.

Aromasin is, I hope, the miracle drug I take daily for five years following breast cancer treatment. It should ward off any chance of recurrence. We'll see, won't we??

Aromasin is good friends with Insomnia and another occasional guest, Joint Pain. Makes me hope all the harder that, in spite of her other relationships, Aromasin will have an overall decent one with me.

Anyway, in an effort to send Insomnia packing, I tried the usual good remedy of an OTC sleeping pill on Thursday night. Usually works like a charm but not this time. I spent Friday with a bad case of the stupids. I was just slightly off center and a half-step behind everything. Classic sleeping pill hangover. And then along came Joint Pain! Oh my! Couldn't lift my arms without my shoulders screaming at me. I figured maybe I could beat it all out of myself with another solid night of sleep.

Last night I contemplated another sleeping pill but didn't need it. I was fighting to stay awake at 9 p.m. and finally decided I could fight it in bed. No fight. Out cold in minutes. Woke briefly a couple of times, and finally decided at 8 a.m. it was time to get up. I probably could have stayed there all day, but if I've learned anything from Insomnia over the years, it's that she respond best to routine. Go to bed at the same time, get up at the same time.

I think some exercise will also help. Long days sitting at a desk in front of a computer don't help matters. So, shortly, I'll be off to the gym. Or maybe I'll just take a good, long walk. We'll see, but it will be one or the other, without fail.

If you see Insomnia, be rude. No matter how much she begs, don't even let her use the bathroom or the phone. She'll find a way to stay. She's just a rotten house guest. Doesn't even bring a hostess gift.
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Share your prayers

Here's a link to a Web site for a little girl who is fighting brain cancer. This came to me through my cousin Dan, who asks for prayers. I have some to share and hope you do too. Many thanks.

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It's not a lack of loyalty

I admit an affection for the hometown teams... the Celtics are making it fun to watch basketball in June and the Red Sox are hot (isn't that Mike Lowell a dream?). With the change of seasons I'll care about the Patriots. Sorry, I never got into soccer or hockey.

All that said, I've got half an eye on a new team and a new player this baseball season. Check this out!



That's Brad Penny, the Dodger's pitcher. He's not having the best season, and in fact is headed to the DL with shoulder troubles. And yes, I'm old enough to be his mother. Still, I just had to have this shirt. My treat to me. Besides, they're a National League team. It will only matter in the World Series finals.

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Amazing Grace

I respectfully invite you to visit a blog I read every day, Peacebang. She is a Unitarian Universalist pastor in the Boston area and--I don't know why--but I am just pulled to her. Some one of these Sundays I'm going to be sitting in her congregation and then, I expect, she'll never be rid of me.

Read the June 13 entry posted at 6:22 p.m., (third post down dated June 13) titled "Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant." It's a lengthy post and you must read every word. It's a powerful story of the death of a dear friend. It's a story of the way, I believe, every one us hopes we are loved. It's the way, I believe, every one of us hopes we will be thought of and cared for. It will, I think, claw at your heart and make you weep. I sobbed.

I've warned you. It's not a happy read but it's a very important one.

There isn't anything else to say.
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Thankful on Friday

Hey! It's the weekend and I have a short list of things for which I'm thankful.

• PJ is home from Florida, tanned and lovely. She had a rough plane ride home through thunder storms (I'd have walked). It's good to have her bouncing around the house again. No sooner is she settled in than she's off to puppy sit for the weekend for her friend Griswold, the English Bulldog.

• Dave had mega dental work done the other day and lived to tell the story. Tonight we celebrated the fact that he can eat big-people food again with steaks smothered in peppers and onions.

• Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of my first breast cancer surgery. My, my, time flies, doesn't it?? It's not necessarily a day to celebrate, or is it? I guess so. As I often say, it beats the crap out of the alternative. It's the first of a number of milestone days to come.

I've got some people on my personal prayer list (David and Claire, Ally and Matt, and Suzie's friend Susan). If you can, send them a cyber-hug and share some love. You don't have to know them, you only have to care.
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Who's having fun in this awful heat?

If you go back to some post I wrote in the middle of winter, you're sure to find words to the effect that some day when it was hot I'd be wishing for a cold snap. Well, that day is here. It's hot (high 90s) and I hate it.

I told Dave yesterday that these are the days that make me wish I was bald again, and of course he balked. I remember how cold I got without hair. I wonder if I'd be cooler without it. I wonder if I'd remember to put sun block on the top of my head.

And then there's the price of gas, sitting at pennies under $4 a gallon. I don't think it's put a true crimp in our habits just get, but the day is coming quickly. My mother has moved to the farm in Nobleboro, Maine, for the summer and of course I want to get into the car and drive up. But gas prices are making me think long and hard about it, and that makes me angry--to think that my life style and desires are being governed by oil prices. And when I get boiled up about it I get mad at myself for being selfish, when there are people without jobs, suffering without health insurance, and on and on. And then I get selfish again and WANT to feel sorry for myself about it. Silly, I know, but it's real.

We hired a marketing manager at work (I think I mentioned that earlier). She drives down every day from Rochester NH, and claims she hasn't looked at the mileage and isn't thinking about the additional costs. That's got to be a 70 or 80 miles trip one way... crazy distance.

The farm is about a 160 mile drive. Double that and drive around a bit and let's say a weekend trip is 400 miles. At 20 miles to the gallon (I have NO CLUE what my car gets), that's 20 gallons. At $4 a gallon it's an $80 trip.

Is a weekend at the farm worth $80? Honestly? Yes. Cheaper than going back to Switzerland. I'll have to take a Monday off and go. Soon.

PJ called us last night, she's in Ft. Lauderdale after having done a day and night in Miami Beach. I pointed her to the Delano Hotel, and apparently they not only found it but had themselves a party until the small hours of the morning. I wonder if it ever crossed her mind that her mother must be pretty damn cool to know of a place like that. Possible but probably not.

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I don't know where the time goes

Good God, it's Thursday already, and we're into June. No wonder I feel "old" some days. Time is flying!

Dave and I are empty-nesters with PJ off in Florida with her friends Sarah and Jackie. I hope she's mending her shoulder (in addition to enjoying the sun, sand, dancing, cocktails, and all the other things that Florida offers my Pretty Girl). We miss her.

I heard from my cousin Peter. He is in Chiang-Mai, Thailand, leading a group of students from the University of Hartford (where he is a professor) on a 3-week study adventure. Can't wait to see his photos and hear the details.

My mother moves north for the summer to farm in Nobleboro this weekend. Another thing to look forward to, making the 157 mile drive and turning onto Morang Cove Road for the first time this season. It takes my breath away every "first" time.

OK, off to work.
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It was a l-o-n-g week

Why is it that a three-day weekend makes the subsequent four-day work week feel like it's eight days long? I think I'll blame some of it on post-vacation hangover. Kinda like complaining about still being affected by jet lag. Use the excuse for as long as it will work!

So, let's see. What's new? Dave is suffering with a broken tooth and has another 11 days before he can see the dentist and (hopefully) have the problem rectified. In the mean time he's eating soft food and dealing with hunger pangs. He'll probably drop a couple of extra pounds (to go along with what we both hope are positive results of going to the gym a couple of times a week).

Yea, we all joined a gym--Planet Fitness in Wilmington. PJ strolled in the other night and found the tow of us on side-by-side treadmills, sweating our asses off (but not fast enough!) She said she was proud of the two of us, but commented that we need new workout clothes. Hey, I can't be fashionable AND sweaty at the same time!

Speaking of PJ, she gave us a scare Wednesday night. I answered the phone to hear she say, "I'm OK, Mom, really, I'm fine. I'm OK, really." To which I replied (very calmly, I think), "OK, then tell me why you called..." She had a mishap on her motorcycle, courtesy of the driver in front of her who elected to slow and then brake suddenly for a FAMILY OF CANADA GEESE crossing the road.

PJ also saw the geese, slowed as the driver in front of her did, but then didn't have a clear "out" when the other woman stopped. PJ tried to go around the car but the bike slid out from under her.

Talk about damn lucky... she separated her left shoulder, bruised a rib on the right, and has a couple of quarter-sized road rash burns on both knees and a skinned arm. She's sporting an arm sling for the next week-to-10 days and is a couple degrees shy of miserable (and bravely ignoring a prescription of Vicodin). My poor baby. She's headed to Florida on Tuesday with a girlfriend, to visit another girlfriend for eight days. I hope she uses the time to sit on her fanny with her arm in the sling and lets everyone else wait on her.

The bike needs a little cosmetic touch-up and a new part or two. Pretty good news all around. Bumps and bruises that will heal with time and patience.

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And old friend sends a wonderful "Hello!"

There is a comment to the previous post from Michael, reconnecting me with his daughter Maureen. She fought a tremendous battle with her fiance Jared as he struggled with and died brain cancer about 8 years ago. I met them in my former life as a newspaper reporter and wrote about the fight and his death.

He died days before what would have been their wedding day. I stayed in touch with Maureen for a short time after Jared died and then she moved on. I assumed (right or wrong) that I might have been another tough reminder of what she had gone through and that she needed to let go of some things that were painful. Having been there myself (to a far lesser degree, but there nonetheless), I can understand it might have been what she was feeling. I know I've had to push a lot of things aside.

Whatever the reasons, it's over and done. I'm excited to hear from Michael and hope he'll be able to put me in touch with Maureen.

I thought about Jared often during my sally and wondered if he'd had the gift of a few more years before his cancer took his life.

It's Memorial Day. A good day for remembering. Things happen for a reason. Some one of these days we'll figure it all out, right?

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Back to the madness

I think it's safe to say that I've returned to pre-vacation mode (minus the anticipation). Work is, well, it's work. The company hired a manager for our department (great news) and I can already feel weights coming off my shoulders.

Of course for every one thing that is taken away, another is added. I'm taking on mentor responsibilities for another major market (teaming with a coworker to help her develop her skills and talents). It will mean giving a lot of time to meetings and learning her marketing (hopefully) as well as I know my own.
My director is days away from delivering twins, so it's critical that we have as much of her focus as possible in order to bring the new manager up to speed as quickly as possible.
What else is new? Dave is in his third week of a new job--at my company. It's nice to look up every now and again and see a truly friendly face in my office window (to say noting of the savings in gas prices, we've gone from two separate commutes to sharing one--plus I was already carpooling with a colleague who lives in the next town).
PJ has been on a Red Sox roll of late--she's been to two games in the last week. She's off to Florida in a few weeks to visit a friend. I hope she doesn't fall in love with the place and want to stay there.
I am hating my post-BC drug Aromasin. It and I are on a five-year plan. Side effects include insomnia (which hasn't been any worse than usual) and arthritis-type joint pain. My hands and wrists are very tender to the point where I have trouble taking lids off jars and plastic containers. I'll give it another month.
That's about it. Are you up for the holiday weekend?

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OK, who wants to see my vacation pictures?

There are only, like 275 of them. And if you wait and look at them tomorrow, you can kill some time at work and no one will really know. After all, you'll be looking at a computer, right...?

{grin}

Go to www.daveandpenny.com and hit the "Enter" button. Sign in using user name "Swiss" and password "Alps" and click the tab at the top marked 'Photos" and then the link for "Penny and Marcia go to Switzerland." You'll be in. A number of the photos have captions for explanations. We'll get to them all some one of these days.

Enjoy!

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Six time zones later....

Ah, it is good to be home. I walked through the doors after coming through customs on Wednesday evening and saw my daughter's beautiful face and life was good again.

Well, life had been pretty damn good for the previous 8 days, but you know what I mean. It's good to get away--and Switzerland was a fabulous get-away--but it feels great to come home again to PJ and Dave.

Yesterday was all about unpacking the suitcases, washing clothes, and NOT eating all the chocolate I brought back. I bought myself a beautiful glass bowl and a small cow bell (the cows really wear bells over there, it's SO cool). Dave loaded my photos onto a Web space and we're in the process of labeling each (only 275, please have patience).

The one thing I couldn't get in Switzerland was what I'd call a decent cup of coffee. Sadly, no Dunky's... hey, there's a major early retirement possibility--solid American coffee for all the American tourists! I did see two Starbucks but I don't care for their coffee, even in a pinch. Imagine that, only two after traveling hundred and hundreds of kilometers and into three other countries! Swiss coffee is thick and too strong for my taste). I did discover two flavored teas that were very nice, cherry and rosehip. Found rosehip by Lipton in a shop in Lenzburg (you'll see castle pictures from Lenzburg when we post the photos. Hell, both teas are probably available locally at Market Basket!)

Marcia and I opened a Swiss bank account. Very cool. Very James Bond, don't you think?

There was one adventure I could have done without, and that was our travel through the Goddhard Tunnel. It's 17 kilometers long (that's 10 miles and plus some 993 feet. WAY TOO LONG for my money). It is built into a mountain and has just two lanes, one in each direction. There are cutouts that can hold a few cars, the theory being that if there is a breakdown or accident your fellow drivers will help push the problem out of the travel lanes. There are also "SOS" signs pointing the way to escape chambers (well-ventilated, I was assured).

Don't want to take the tunnel? There the option to drive the St. Goddhard Pass over the mountain, but that was still closed due to winter snow.

We took the tunnel twice, going to and returning from the Ticino region of Switzerland, which is the southern area that borders Italy. In Ticino we found palm trees and tropical vegetation, quite a different look and feel from the Argau region (our "home" north nearer to Germany).

The food... amazing. Who could have dreamed that macaroni and cheese could be so tasty? The cheese was indescribable and the dish and combined with chunks of potato and meat. And presentation is everything. That particular meal was served in a deep, fat little bowl that had a cover; the cover was turned upside down and filled with the smoothest, sweetest apple sauce I have ever tasted. Both service pieces were accented with rings of dried apple and spices.

We had lunch one day in Italy and enjoyed the best pizza I have ever tasted. The dough was soft and sweet, vegetables crunchy (including yellow peppers, zucchini and fresh tomato) and pepperoni to roll over and die for.

We drank a lot of water. Your choices are "natural" or "bubbles," and it's all bottled. That said, there are fountains everywhere, on the village streets and on the sides of mountains. We were assured time and again that the water is drinkable, and we saw lots of people taking advantage (along with a puppy or two).

Speaking of dogs, they are welcomed everywhere, provided they are on a leash. It's not unusual to sit in a restaurant or outdoor cafe with your dog at your feet. Most are so impeccably behaved you don't even know they are there.

Airplane food is even fabulous! Swiss Air knows how to make customers feel comfortable and welcomed. We had two meals on each flight (chicken or pasta at takeoff and a light breakfast-style meal closer to arrival, with cheeses and pastries). Real flatware and dishes--plus all the alcohol you want. No one took advantage. Complimentary in-flight movies (and enough time to watch 3 on each 8-hour journey) and hot towels to clean your hands before landing.

OK, it's time for another cup of decent, American coffee and then I'll have to tackle the office e-mail (I get to work from home a half day today).

Check back over the weekend for the link to the photos!

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Heading home today

Sadly, and yet with great anticipation, we head home today. Sad because we leave such a beautiful place where we have had amazing adventures and the pleasure to meet wonderful people we will be honored to call new friends. With great anticiaption because we miss our families and friends.

We will come back, we absolutely promise. And if our new friends venture to the east, we promise to show them the same kindnesses and hospitality, hopefully with the same grace and style.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Note: for some reason I'm not seeing the entire blog format load over here in Switzerland. There should be additional photos and and links load down both sides of the individual posts, along with a counter and a clock (Dave loaded a clock showing the local [Swiss] time so he woudl always know the time at which I am operating). I'm sorry it's not showing here!

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The Swiss Adventure continues

Our Swiss adventure continues to amaze us at every turn. Mountain vistas, lake tour by steam ship, amazing food, side trips to Italy, France, and Germany, and best of all, wonderful new friends (Ipy, Irele, Manuel, Carla, Mimi, Francesca, and Marc). Photos to come when I get home (we'll be back late on May 14).

(Edited May 14)

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Hello from Switzerland

What an amazingly beautiful place I have come to. It is sunny and warm, green and exploding with colorful flowers, and very peaceful. The only down side is that Marcia isn't here yet. She showed up at the airport in Boston with the WRONG PASSPORT and had to delay her trip by one day. We are headed to Zurich in moments to pick her up.

Then we will be off to Italy for a short holiday. Such fun!

BTW, the European computer keyboard is differnt than mine at home. The Z and Y are reversed, and the accessory keys are in all the wrong places too.

More later.

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Outta here

Off on our adventure: out of town, the county, state, country, off the continent, and six times zones ahead. I'll bring back lots of memories and make you look at vacation photos.

XOXOX

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Breakfast with the Sistas

A rainy Sunday morning--started the day the second-best way, over breakfast with the Breast Cancer Sistas, Tanya and Debbie. Oh, the things we talked about...

Bret Michaels and his band Poison, Pearl Jam and Bon Jovi, Magic Hat beer and waffles at a Vermont bed-and-breakfast, how much we love/hate our jobs, someone's fear of needles, the high cost of commuting from Nashua to Peabody, second-hand smoke showing up in a blood test, and deciding (at least I think we did) that the term "survivor," when tagged onto "breast cancer," is now an OK thing to call ourselves.

We met last summer in a breast cancer support group. The group facilitator called us "survivors" at the first meeting and we all (about 10 women) agreed we disliked the term significantly. As I recall we didn't come up with a better term. Maybe we did, but honestly, my memories of certain aspects of that slice of my life aren't as sharp as they could be. Maybe that's normal, I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it's the way it is.

I remember having breakfast with Tanya way back at the beginning of the adventure (I use that term very loosely), and our at-the-time lofty goals. We were going to save the world. Start a support group (better than the one we were in), reach out to patients (faster than anyone reached out to us) and give them a place to network with others and find the answers to all of their questions (questions we asked and to which no one could/would give us a straight answer). We were going to help their families (because no one out there was supporting ours) and give patients' spouses and significant others and kids and loved ones a way to work through the tough times that were coming and come out on the other side feeling as whole as possible (because there wasn't anyone who did that for our loved ones).

Looking back, I think I worked hard to live in the moment and be involved in what was happening and connect as best I could with the medical team. I tried to understand what was happening and be patient with myself as I tolerated treatments. I didn't look ahead or anticipate what was next. OK, I counted days, counted down treatments, but I didn't look too far beyond where I was, because I couldn't see myself moving beyond where I was. I expected my life to stay foggy and my head to remain somewhat disconnected.

And when the treatments were finally over, the fog started to lift a little, and slowly, things started to return to more of a normal than I'd thought possible. And now, I want to put all of it as far behind me as I can. I don't want to think about it and I really don't want to talk about it, because to do those things is to live with it. I'm tired of living with it.

(And here, respectfully, is where I have to say that I know I got out of it pretty damn easy and that I'm very lucky. I know that. I won't forget that, ever.)

I had a meeting with a coworker last week, someone I don't work too closely with and really don't know. She asked about my hair (which is growing in tight curls--I feel like a poodle). She asked if it had been curly before it all fell out. I told her no, it had been fairly straight.

She said her mother is on her second go-around with ovarian cancer. Had it, did chemo, lost her hair, and thought she had turned the corner. The cancer came back, and she signed on for a clinical trial. After six months (and losing her hair again), her docs have decided the trail has done absolutely nothing, so she's about to start another six-month trial.

Hearing things like that make me stop and think. What I usually shake out of one of those mind sessions is that I really want to put this all behind me. Pack it up and put it away. I'll take it down when I have to deal with it, and if forced to, will open up the box, put everything on the table and live with it again--if I have to.

Sometimes it's all w-a-y too much to think about. So I don't. Until I have to, and right now, I don't have to think about it. So, I won't.

Vacation starts at 5 p.m. tomorrow.

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Who can sleep?

It's approaching 3 a.m. and I'm beyond furious to find myself awake. There are a lot of thoughts rattling through my head and none of them will calm down enough to let me sleep.

Between being excited about going to Switzerland and balancing that against growing guilt about going and worrying about what's happening at work, it's wonder I haven't turned into a raving maniac.

Work ran late today, I was there until after 7 p.m. working on a major proposal that was up against a deadline. It's not my project; the coworker on the project had concert tickets for tonight and I offered to stay so she could be on her way. Oddly, she was off to a Bret Michaels concert at the Hampton Beach Casino--the same concert PJ went to tonight. Another reminder of either how old PJ is or how old I am.

I really didn't mind staying because I know that the coworker would do it for me in an instant.

So, it's May 1 (no, wait, now it's May 2) and the department is still without a manager. I told them back in January I didn't want the promotion, and I'm still doing two jobs. Manager candidates have come and gone, the latest one just yesterday. She lives in Rochester, NH, a 1 1/2 hour commute each way. I have not hope it will work out. We have someone who I'm not sure can cut the work, and others who I'm not sure want to be there. My boss isn't going to be around much longer (pregnant with twins) and once she's out of there, it's just going to get worse. Even if they hire yesterday's candidate, there isn't enough time to train her to be ready to step in and be the effective manager we need her to be. I'm going to have to train her, which means more time lost doing my own work.

The pressure is so constant and I just don't want to deal with it any more. I just want to go away and sit in the quiet and not talk to anyone and not have to make any decisions. I want to start doing something and be able to see it through to completion without having to fight fires and solve problems for other people.

Going to Switzerland is something I've been wanting to do for along time. I'm not sure it's going to give me the decompressing get-away my head needs, but at least it's out of the office, out of town, the county, the state, the country, off the continent and into a new hemisphere that assures that the office won't be able to find me.

I haven't left yet and I'm already worried about what I'm going to be hit with then I return. Isn't that encouraging? Try sleeping on that. I was an idiot to have a drink when I got home tonight. I should have opted for a sleeping pill.

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Date Night and the Level 3 Sex Offender

It's Tuesday, and that means it's Date Night. As is usual and customary, Dave and I found ourselves at the bar at the 99 in Wilmington. It was just another Tuesday, until the Level 3 Sex Offender (L3SO) walked in.

Apparently he comes in often and is usually chased away by patrons who make his presence known to other customers. Between the wait staff and other patrons, it was clear L3SO didn't have too many friends in the place. He was with a woman who claimed that her mother and her children have tried to tell him of L3SO's past and she doesn't believe a word of it. She got into a verbal exchange with a man who tried to urge L3SO to take his business elsewhere. Once word about him circulated around the bar, no one could keep their eyes off the man.

We came home and found the man on the Web, along with way too many others like him. He committed his crimes in 1987 and 1995, and carries the L3SO designation. The Web site goes on the say that he is at a "high risk to re-offend and the the degree of dangerousness posted to the public is such that a substantial public safety interest is served by active community communication."

Hence, people like the man at the bar who "invited" L3SO to move along take every opportunity to point this man out when he encounters L3SO in public. That's why the waitress who saw L3SO in the lobby waiting for a table told him, "You better not sit in my area, I won't wait on you."

Has he paid the price for his crimes of 12 and 21 years ago? Should he be able to sit in a family restaurant in peace or wander through the aisles of a store populated by families with children without fear his past will be pronounced to anyone in earshot?

It would make an interesting debate, but one that had no place at the bar at the 99 on this night. There wasn't anyone willing to take the unpopular side of the argument, even for the sake of the argument.

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Tips for Wives and Husbands

My latest issue of Vanity Fair included an article of “Don’t” tips for husbands and wives. According to the article, the lists were published almost 100 years ago. The books are being reissued by A&C Black, Ltd. I may have to buy the pair, if just for the laugh. I’ll let you decide whether you’ll want copies of your own.

Go head, click through!

Don’ts for Wives

• Don’t expect your husband to be an angel. You would get very tired of him if he were.
• Don’t let him have to search the house for you. Listen for his latchkey and meet him on the threshold.
• Don’t let your husband wear a violet tie with grass-green socks. If he is unhappily devoid of the color sense, he must be forcibly restrained, but don’t be sarcastic about your husband’s taste in dress.
• Don’t try too hard to regulate your husband’s pleasures, and don’t be jealous if they don’t always include you.
• Don’t try to excite your husband’s jealousy by flirting with another man,. You may succeed better than you want to. It is like playing with tigers and edged tools and volcanoes all in one.
• Don’t bother your husband with a stream of senseless chatter if you can see that he is fatigued.
• Don’t forget to wish your husband good morning when he sets off to the office. He will feel the lack of your good-bye kiss all day
• Don’t moralize the way of winning back the love that seems to be waning. Make yourself extra charming and arrange delicious dinners which include all your husband’s favorite dishes.

Don’ts for Husbands

• Don’t be surprised, or annoyed, or disappointed to find, after treating your wife for years as a featherbrain, that you have made her one, and that she fails to rise to the occasion when you need her help.
• Don’t slouch. No one who cares for a man likes to see him acquire a slouching habit.
• Don’t forget that character is more important than genius. If your wife is a true woman, don’t worry about the rest.
• Don’t scowl or look severe. Cultivate a pleasant expression even if nature hasn’t blessed you with one.
• Don’t drop, when alone with your wife, the little courtesies that you would offer to other women. For instance, always get up to open a door for her, as you would for a lady guest.
• Don’t insist on having the last word. If you know when to drop an argument, you are a wise man.
• Don’t argue that a new hat isn’t necessary because there’s nothing visibly wrong with the one she is wearing; you probably have forgotten that this is its third season, but she hasn’t.
• Don’t give up cricket, or football… or whatever outdoor sport you have been accustomed to just because you are married. Athletics will keep you from becoming flabby.
• Don’t selfishly refuse to go out in the evening because you have been among people all day. Remember that your wife hasn’t and a change is good for her.

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About Saturday, the "Living Prayer" Garden and the Boston Marathon

I didn't think the work week would ever end. Once again I spent more time solving problems and fighting fires than I did doing my own work, and as a result, I "look forward" to giving my Sunday to the office. I really don't mind (too much), and I have to pay a bit of a price since I plan to get on a plane in 10 days and disappear for a while!

(Go, there's more...)

I got an e-mail from my friend Joe last night. He and I are high school friends from another lifetime. He and his family live in Western Massachusetts, so we haven't see each other in too long time but we stay in touch.

Last night he sent me a couple of photos of a garden his wife Kathy is creating. I hope you'll recognize that she has developed a pattern in the shape of a ribbon, and she's planting white, pink, and blue flowers in the different sections. Here is Joe's message:

This is a preview of what's to come. Kathy is growing a "Living Prayer" here. The flowers are:
Carpet of Snow (white) Alyssum for the white ribbon
Rosie O'Day and Royal Carpet (pastel and deep pink) Alyssum for the pink ribbon
Blue Lobelia for the background


She's going to put a lot of names in this. Our sister in-law Karla and yours are the first ones to go in. Both of ya's have been through the same ordeal. Now all we have to do is keep the dogs and cats out of it along with the neighbor's kids!

I can't wait to watch Kathy's garden grow in. I asked Joe to send me photos as it grows in, and I'll share them here for you to see.

Along with this wonderful gift came another this week. Last Monday was the 112th running of the Boston Marathon, an event that has become a huge fund raiser for cancer, lymphoma, and leukemia research, and many, many more.

Last weekend, PJ heard from her friend Tim Smith, who was running Boston (for I believe his third time), and he dedicated one of his miles (#14) in my honor.

I was beyond words at this kindness. To find myself enveloped in that love along with people such as Jane Nitchie, Barbara and Harry Cook, and all the others, made me cry. I hope you'll go to Tim's blog at www.bostonbound.org/smith/ and read about his special journey.

And with that, I'm off to tackle Saturday. I need to get an international driver's license today so I can legally be a menace on the highways and byways in Switzerland. It's not a bad thing to have even if I don't drive. I realized a couple of days ago that my Massachusetts license and passport bear "old" photos of me with my former head of hair. I don't look like that any more!

Cheers!

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Where does the time go?

In 13 days I'll be in Switzerland, assuming the planes are flying and I can motor up to to the jetway. I'll try not to be too obnoxious about it between now and then.

I'm in the middle of one of those awful stretches of insomnia. Nothing seems to help except a sleeping pill, and I don't want to get hooked on those. Life is pretty good on all counts these days, even work, so it's not a stress-related thing. Just life, I guess.

PJ is off living on her own (sort of), she's house- and puppy-sitting for a friend and enjoying being independent. We miss her terribly, even though we see little of her when she calls these walls "home."

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Fiesta de la Sanford

Off to Maine on the Amtrak Downeaster (have you seen the price of gas?? Holy crap! $3.35 a gallon!). Spending the night at my mother's in anticipation of her open house tomorrow. If you'll be in the neighborhood, ring my cell and we'll talk you in.

Type rest of the post here

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Thoughts while, well, while thinking

Someone has taken to posting statements in the bathroom at work, statements I think are supposed to be of an inspirational nature.

The latest offerings are these two:

"Eduation is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance," and

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

Call me a killjoy, but I have a minor problem with this. For one thing, I wonder who has time to search for these words of wisdom, type 'em up, print them off a color copier, and hang them in the Ladies'. If there's someone out there with that much free time, I'll be happy to share some items on my scheudle that have been languishing since April 2nd.

And while I'm all for loving and being loved, I can think of a small handful of things that are right up there on the list of the greatest things I'll ever learn. Here are a few:

• Breathe. If you don't, you'll die.


• Don't put anything in your mouth that you don't intend to swallow and use for fuel. Before you become all silly and giggly, I add this one in honor of a coworker who spent a recent unpleasant evening in the local ER with her young son who had swallowed a coin. Following multiplpe rounds of x-rays, exams, blood tets and such, he was discharged with instructions to come back the next day for more of the same (to check for movement of the coin). The next evening she caught him with a bottle cap in his mouth. I laughed my ass off listening to her tell the story, and I'm certain it was so amusing only because it wasn't my child.


• Take time for yourself. If you don't, you won't be much good to anyone else. Don't wait until the time is right because it probably never will be the right time. Work is the usual screwer-up of "me time."


• Be nice to others. Being nice gets paid back at least double.


• Be willing to go next (as in let someone go before you). Go where? Doesn't matter. Onto the on ramp. Up to the counter at the bank. To the checkout line at the supermarket. Through a door. It's another way you can be nice.

Can you think of a few more? Share them with me and I'll post them and maybe give you credit.

Sorry, that's not being nice. I will give you credit.

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Maple syrup and prepositions

I was going to blog about poor grammar and bad sentence construction but I'm holding back because I don't want to come across as a snob. I'm the one who hollers at the radio and television at the mis-use of the English language for the alleged sake of breaking news. I cringe at the "12 items or less" signs at the supermarket and big box stores. I detest the apparent delight people take in writing sentences that would make better paragraphs.

Gawd, you'd think I think I'm perfect.

(This time there really is more to read. Go on, click through!)

This all started to fester yesterday when Dave and I took in the breakfast buffet at the Sheraton Colonial in Lynnfield. I walked through the buffet line behind a woman who looked familiar. It look me a few moments to realize it was Nancy Kerrigan, the former Olymnpic skating champion, famous for her knee's run in with Tonya Harding's henchman, and Kerrigan's pathetic "WWWWWhhhhhyyyyyy?" bellows, which were made famous (infamous) on an ESPN's readers' list of the worst sports scandals (#7).

{Ah, hello! talk about a run-on sentence...}

Anyway, there I was, not giving an inch to the argument she presented that the maple syrup (in the middle of the buffet line) should be NEXT TO the French toast (which was at the end of the buffet line). Dear me, I thought, if that's worth picking a squabble over, what must she be like if the kids don't pick up their socks?

I couldn't resist hitting the Internet when I got home. I had questions that demanded answers (such as, wasn't her husband married to someone else when they started dating? No, apparently. Apparently.) I toured her Web site and concluded that she really, really needs to hire me to rewrite the content. Really. His site too, for that matter.

So, that's it. My little rant about the sad state of the English language. Please remember that prepositions are words you shouldn't end sentences with. The punctuations goes inside the quotation mark. (Example: "I wouldn't kid you about that," she said.) Re-read your sentences. If you have to stop and take a breath before you get to the end of one, it's too damn long. Employ some punctuation.

And for God's sake, use your directional signal when you change lanes.

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Chuck likes my new "do"

Went out to dinner last night with our friends Chuck and Gail. Hadn't seen them in a while... he says I look like a Chia pet... He didn't say which one. There's a frog, a pig, a clown, a lamb, a puppy, a bunny, and a turtle among others.

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A great day!

Saw my surgeon today. Hard to believe I'm eight months post-surgery (of course in that time came the other aspects of treatment: chemo, radiation, and a whole lot of recovering).

I told him a feel terrific, and I really do. He did an exam and pronounced me in great shape for this point in treatment. I'm booked for a mammogram on July 9 and will see him immediately afterwards for a review of the films.

The July date is a year following an MRI that was done in 2007 between my two surgeries. The mammogram that detected the cancer was done in April '07, and I assumed I was coming up on over-due to have on this year.

But the doc assures me that the July MRI '07 date is the date we should work from, so I'll be patient until July 9.

Dave and I also had a long conversation with my doc's nurse. She confirmed our thoughts that I should be free and clear from cancer concerns for at least five years. That's based on the effects of chemo and radiation, plus the drug I'm taking (Aromasin).

Of course there are no guarantees. Even mammo films and MRIs can fail to reveal something important. But I'm not taking my head in that direction.

I'm celebrating with my new favorite beverage, Allagash White. Cheers!

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Mmmm, fruity!

Here's another one of those silly quizzes: What type of fruit are you?

I am a Strawberry!

I am friendly, outgoing, and well liked by many people. I am popular, but there's nothing ordinary or average about me. I'm a very interesting person, and have many facets to my personality. Sometimes I feel very conflicted. Different sides of my personality pull at me. I'm a very sensual and passionate person, fiery... I can't help it. In general, I keep my passionate side under wraps. I'm only wild in private.

What Type of Fruit Are You?

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31 Days

Last night Dave asked me if I was counting down the days until I leave for Switzerland. I said I wasn't; it seems too far away. This morning I took the calendar off the side of the refrigerator and counted. 31 days. I can't wait!

It's a rainy, dreary Saturday, a perfect day to do yard work. The whiskey barrel planter we put in some 20 years ago finally collapsed under the weight of all the snow we had this winter--hence today's scheduled adventure to Lowes Garden Center, to replace the planter and see what else they have that we can't live without. The rain should quit in a couple of hours and leave a good opportunity to rake out the gardens and plant some bulbs. The crocuses are already up (searching for sunshine, poor things), and the day lily and hosta shoots have pushed through the soil. A kind person would get the dead leaves out of their way so they can blossom and bloom in style.

That is today's mission. Tomorrow I'm driving to Sanford. My Swiss traveling companion and I have to read the travel guide and map out our plan of tourist-attack on the host nation.

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What makes it a good weekend?

An excellent "new find" for dinner (the Friday night Italian buffet at the Colonial Hilton in Wakefield; Saturday night it's prime rib). Sleeping until almost 10 a.m. on both days. Spending time with an old friend (even if it was at a funeral). Beers at the '99' in Wilmington on Sunday afternoon--practically sinful!

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My bad hair day

I've been waiting a good long time to have a bad hair day. Today was that day! Got out of the shower and fluffed my little curls with some Suave Curl Enhancing Spray Gel. If I do say so myself, I was looking pretty fine.

In short order I was ready to head out the door, and I walked outside into a cold, icy rain. So much for great hair. But you know what? It's only hair. It grows back (I'm living proof), and tomorrow brings another styling opportunity.

Speaking of fluff...

I've started stocking up on containers of the stuff to take to my friend Laura in Switzerland. It's one of a small handful of things she has me packing in my suitcases . Apparently Marshmallow Fluff is a New England tradition and just unheard of over there. It's something she misses so I'm happy to bring it to her. Small favor the kindness she and her Monica are extending with their kind invitation to visit. Good thing my mother is coming on this adventure, I can fill her suitcases as well!

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Switzerland, baby!

I bought my ticket! I'm on a Swiss Air flight on May 6 and back on the 14th! If you're very good I'll bring you back some chocolate!

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