Building Character

Is there any word that can describe today that hasn't already been bandied about the internet ad infinitum? Hopeful? Overcome? Overjoyed? Awed? I am all these things and so much more.

Today is the next step on the road to rebuilding our National character. At some point in time America has become a hated country. Despised by the bad guys and good guys alike. Even friendly Nations have looked at us with a semblance of disdain.

As a people we have become spoiled and lazy. I am reminded of Ben's assertions that whatever his infraction it is "not his fault." We have become finger-pointers.

President Barack Obama has ushered in, today, an era of accountability... Both for Washington and each and every American.

"Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends - hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism - these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task. "

He has laid the foundation of his foreign policy.

"As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

...We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you."

And one of my favorite images from his address:

"To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist."

I can't wait to sit with Ben tonight and rewatch all the TiVoed footage of this momentous day. I am so excited to watch him soak up the significance. I am greatful that he will grow up in this new direction - growing as one with all Americans and our Nation.

I prefer a shot between the eyes to a stab in the back any day

I have a problem. Well, I have many that I am aware of and probably even more that I am not. However, this matter touches on an issue that has been particularly challenging for me my entire adult life. Straightforwardness. I simply cannot abide the lack of it.


It's not really an honesty issue because there are many reasons in ones life for a bit of dishonesty. I won't get into them here just to save myself the holier-than-thou emails. It's more about all the damn "political correctness" and circuitous routes people take to accomplish things because the more direct route would reflect poorly on them. This drives me batty! Since you're probably completely confused as to what has be all buggered about now, I'll just get into it already.


It's the dang school district! Our Wonder Sitter is also Danny's full time aide at preschool and PEEP (Preschool Early Enrichment Program which he attends to further his self-help skills) and is paid for such by the school district. This has been the arrangement for the past year. At this point you really need to know something about our Wonder Sitter. The "Wonder" portion of her name is not just an empty title. She is a marvel. I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that she is the best thing that has ever happened to us in regards to Danny. His mobility therapist can't say enough good things about her. He fairly gushes about how he only has to show her this cane technique or that once and the next time he sees Danny he's a pro at it thanks to our Wonder Sitter. Ditto with Danny's Vision Therapist. So, when the school district's people saw what a natural she was with Danny and his disabilities last year, they fairly begged her to jump through all their hoops (fingerprinting, etc) to become a substitute aide - which she did with Danny in mind.


Well, a few weeks ago (I thought I posted about it but guess not) I got a call from our case worker telling me that Danny was doing so well at his preschool that she thought he would be much better served by spending 4 or 5 days in preschool than he would only 3 days and one day at PEEP. Hello! We've been telling them that PEEP was worthless for 2 years now! Most of the kids are in there for language delays which Danny most certainly does. not. have. Yet they have insisted that it was the best class for him. Of course, I readily agreed to stop PEEP immediately and we have an IEP to formalize that on December 8th.

Then, last week, our Wonder Sitter was approached about aiding another special needs child at the preschool. She is completely non-verbal and has a feeding tube. Wonder Sitter, for all her talents, has no formal training. A child such as this is beyond her capabilities and she said as much to the district representative.

Coincidentally, two days later, she received an email from the district informing her that she needed to submit a paper detailing what it is like to work with Danny. In addition, she must list all the special needs children she has ever worked with, detailing their handicaps. The only explaination she was given was that there are other people that want her job.

What I think is really going on: I think the county only has funding for one aide at Danny's preschool. Since Wonder Sitter refused to aide for the non-verbal child with the feeding tube they now must replace her with someone else. So they have now either asked for these items as a means of measuring experience in order to eliminate Wonder Sitter from the competition or, and this one makes me angrier, they have asked for the paper on Danny so that the next aide has a heads up on working with him.

Either way, I know they are not being up front with the Wonder Sitter about the whole issue. And by screwing with her they are screwing with us (our childcare situation) and they are screwing with Danny. If she is not Danny's aide 5 days a week until noon, we certainly aren't going to pay her the same salary we pay her now for a full day five days a week. That means she may need to find other work. That jeapardizes our childcare.

It also brings up another interesting question. Did the school district really think Danny no longer needed PEEP or was that just a convenient excuse to have the Wonder Sitter at the preschool the extra days needed to care for the incoming special needs child? The timing is suspect don't you think? I can tell you for certain that I do not believe they have Danny's best interests in mind when making decisions.

Mostly, I just don't understand why they are not forthright in their motives. Everyone understands budget issues. Why not say so?

And the real question is... What should I do about this at our IEP???

A few feelings on last night...

Have you ever seen anything like it? Obama supporter or McCain. Republican or Democrat. Liberal or Conservative. Have you ever been a part of something that grand?

Is that what it was like when JFK was President? Because if it was, OMG. No wonder there was such devastation at his assassination.

I have to say that the actual vote counting was pretty anti-climactic. Is the Electoral College antiquated, or is that just me? But watching the reporters on MSNBC (admittedly pro-Obama) try to keep their cool, contain their growing incredulousness and not announce too early was priceless.

Once the official projection was made... my Lord. I have never seen such a thing. It looked like New Year's Eve in Time's Square... everywhere people could gather. (How do people pee in those crowds? Seriously? Do they wear Depends?) Crying. Texting. My phone was going off.

And our beloved Tim Russert's son, Luke's report from somewhere in Florida surrounded by a group of his peers... brought tears to my eyes for the truth of his words. I'm paraphrasing here: Luke said that the students basically felt that Obama was their president. The first one to represent their interests and their agenda. NOT their parent's presidents. Obama will hear their voice and listen to them.

I'll go them one step further. Obama makes me feel as if I am a part of this government. A vital part.

Oh, I can go on and on... but essentially it's this. America as I have always known it changed last night. I was a part of it. I am proud of that.

Am I afraid for Obama? Afraid some psycho will hate the goodness and truth that lives inside him and seek to snuff it out? To my very bones. But if he is willing to risk it, so am I.

A new direction

I am overwhelmed. I am hopeful. I am tired.

I will wake up tomorrow in a country with an African American President Elect. My children will grow up knowing that anyone, if they work hard enough, can become President of the United States of America. Let the healing begin.

I can't look. Are the results coming in yet?

"When we got into office, the thing that surprised me the most was that things were as bad as we'd been saying they were."

~~John F. Kennedy~~

"Ninety-eight percent of the adults in this country are decent, hard-working, honest Americans. It's the other lousy two percent that get all the publicity. But then -- we elected them."

~~Lily Tomlin~~

"In America, anyone can become president. That's one of the risks you take."

~~Adlai Stevenson~~

"The reason there are so few female politicians is that it is too much trouble to put makeup on two faces."

~~Maureen Murphy~~

"There is no distinctly American criminal class --except Congress."

~~Mark Twain~~

I'm just killing a little time until the polls close. I am strangely nervous. What if it is a big upset and McCain wins? Can I handle that? Of course, I'll have no choice, but... I want so much more for our Country.

I want a new course. I want to have confidence in and respect for my President again. I want that hope that has been eluding us as a nation for so long.

I have no beef with John McCain. He is an honorable man, though I don't necessarily agree with his agenda. But don't get me started on Sarah Palin.

She is my punishment for disliking Hilary so much. I used to think Hilary's "stand by my man" crap from the Monica days was a disservice to women and showed her as a power-hungry person. At least, Hilary is intelligent, consistent and effective in executing her party's political agenda. Palin is not even in the same league. I saw an email the other day that summed it up nicely. It had a group of women holding a sign that said, "Mr. McCain, we did not wait 232 years for Sarah Palin!!!"

Only an hour and forty minutes before the first polls close. Hold me!

Don't forget to vote. And keep your truck window closed

I have a very nice post about Obama but first here's one about the truck I followed home from work.

There I was, minding my own business, when the rear window in the truck I was following slid open... and a butt popped out. I looked at it for a second or two.

It was young. Or female. Or unnaturally smooth and free of hair.

Then it sank in... "That's an ass." I looked at the clock on my dash and it was only 11:30 am. Granted, Daylight Savings Time just ended this weekend but even 12:30 pm is a little early for the moon to be out, don't you think?

Back to our originally scheduled post:

I had a very heartfelt post written about why I think Barack Obama is the best man to lead our country at this moment in history. How having a Kenyan father and a white mother and being raised in an average household in the heartland of America has made him the epitome of the American Dream. Senator Obama does not seek the Presidency from an origin of privilege. His beginnings are humble. His family like yours and mine. Working class. One-time food stamp recipients. College educated on scholarships and hard work. Sacrificing for what was wanted and needed. How if anyone could understand what we as a Country of working class citizens are experiencing, it is certainly Barack Obama and not a man who cannot immediately recall the number of houses he owns.

Not only is Obama one of us, he is a learned man. And he inspires. There are those who say he hasn't enough experience. Or that what he wants to accomplish depends on such an unlikely set of circumstance so as to virtually impossible. But inspiration is a strange thing. Hope and inspiration. Those two things can change the world. They can turn the most jaded of politicians into a believer again.

The bottom line is that I believe he can do what he plans to do. I believe HE believes he can do it too. And that, my friends, is a far sight more than I believe about most politicians. So he has my vote. He also has my appreciation for reminding me that this Country should be great. And that it can be again. It's something I forgot after September 11th, 2001 and didn't even realize it...

I had a post like that but I accidentally deleted it. Oops. Don't forget to vote.

Pretty In Pink

You may have noticed the blog renovation... If you guessed that the new color scheme is all in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month then you must spend too much time reading blogs, talking to me or sitting in an oncologist's office. Or maybe all of the above...

You will be bombarded this month by pink ribbons, media stories on breast cancer tragedies and triumphs and products on every aisle in every store asking you to contribute to the cause, finding a cure. That's all wonderful. The publicity is needed - welcomed, in fact.

Just don't let it stop there. Please don't sit on your couch watching a news story about a young mother losing her battle with Breast Cancer and cry into your tissue. Then turn off the TV and think it can never happen to you.

I was 39 when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I had an 8 month old baby. My mother was diagnosed 6 months after I was. My friend, also a young mother, had two different kinds of Breast Cancer at the same time.

If you do nothing else, do your self breast exams. Know your body. If you detect a change at all, go see your doctor. It's so much better to leave the doctor's office feeling foolish for worrying... then to leave in shock with those words ringing in your ears. Breast Cancer.

Did you hear about this?

Alopecia Universalis (AU) is a genetic disorder that causes an otherwise perfectly healthy person to become completely hairless. Yikes!!! Often these unfortunate individuals are born with some hair but lose it rather quickly, often thier fingernails and toenails as well. They must be careful as they have minimal natural protection from the light, sun and dust.

Dale Platts, 13, from the UK has AU. He's had it since he was 5 months old. You wouldn't think this would be too bad for a boy. At least he's not a girl, right. Except when you remember that he has no eyelashes, eyebrows, or nails. And then you remember how exceedingly cruel junior high kids can be. The very last thing on Earth one wants at thirteen, is to be different in any way, shape or form. Hairless is unthinkable.

Well, Dale makes it through the school day by wearing a ball cap. It keeps the sun out of his lashless eyes and covers his hairless head. It also helps him fit in.

This year, however, the powers that be at the Robert Pattinson School in the UK have called on the dress code to prohibit Dale from wearing his ball cap to school. The penalty for baseball cap wearing will be removal from class to be taught in isolation.

I am proud of Dale for standing up for his rights. The first day of school found his capped head bobbing through the halls. He was sent home.

Now I ask you, what would they have said to this boy if he had been battling childhood leukemia or some other form of cancer? If his hair loss was a temporary symptom of a larger battle for his life? Would it have mattered? Would the temporary nature of his condition have swayed the school to bend the dress code on his behalf?

A disability is a disability. And, yes, a rule is a rule. However, the intent of a dress code is two-fold: to minimize class disruption and to eliminate gang/group affiliations via clothing. Dale Platts is doing neither of these things. In fact, a case could be made that in wearing his ball cap he is, in fact, minimizing class disruptions that occur because of teasing, etc.

Sometimes people really discourage me. They just can't see the forest for the trees.

Laugh Cancer Into Submission

Laugh, and the world laughs with you.
Cry, and you find yourself all alone in your room.

What? Is that only at my house?

Humor is the lubricant of life. It eases our way through tight situations, keeps the friction from getting so hot that it causes permanent damage and generally allows for smoother interaction between all the parts that make up our hectic lives.

Humor, it can be said, is a miracle fix-all.

Toward that end, Young Survival Coalition and Stand Up to Cancer (SU2C) are combining their significant resources and those of ABC, NBC and CBS to air a fund raiser on Friday, September 5, 2008. Money will go toward all the cutting edge research we read about in the news. Research the government doesn't want to fund. Research that will save lives.

We are so close to a cure for cancer. So close. Close enough to a cure that our children may not ever have to worry about dying from over-producing, vagrant cells that overtake healthy cells and kill them. Close enough that many cancers are already considered "chronic diseases" instead of terminal.

Close enough that even the little bit of money that I am able to spare can help the cause.

Won't you please help, too?

Mark your calendars. Program your TiVo or DVR. 8:00 p.m., Friday, September 5, 2008. Help laugh cancer into submission!!!

Credit where credit is due

Education is important. So is dependability. Both are valued by employers but usually only career jobs place a value on the first.

Yesterday we stopped in Bend, OR for lunch at Ben's favorite restaurant, McDonald's. I was shocked and pleasantly surprised to see this sign prominently displayed in the lobby.


My parents gave us money for good grades ($1 per A, $0.50 per B). The potential reward was never mentioned throughout the school year. Report card day would just arrive with it's windfall... or not, depending on how hard we had applied ourselves. My sister and I heard the lesson loud and clear.

Work hard. Apply yourself. You will ultimately be rewarded.

Life is simple like that.

I am proud of the Bend McDonald's for rewarding their young employees for good grades and work ethic. Keep up the good work!

Assuming the position

When I left for work this morning at 6 in the A M, gasoline in my sleepy little town was $4.07. Expensive? Yes. I thought so. We are typically 3-7 cents more expensive than the rest of the area which is notoriously the one of the most expensive in the State. At lunch time I drove into town because it was cold and rainy and the single apple with peanut butter I was planning to eat didn't sound warm enough.

I gasped when I passed the Chevron & Shell stations in town to see gas had gone up again to $4.11 & $4.13 respectively. Outrageous! Highway robbery! Literally.

A mere 3 hours later that same Shell station had changed their price to $4.17. Holy crap! So glad I'm not driving anywhere for the holiday weekend! I toodled slowly back to my town off-the-beaten-path due to downed power lines and a v-e-r-y slow detour. Ack!!! The sign on my gas station read... are you ready for this?...

$4.25 !!!!! And the one across the street was $4.29!!!!!!!!! In case you can't do the math through the fog of confusion, that's am $ 0.18 and $0.22 increase in a mere 9 hours!!!!!

I don't get it. The gasoline the stations are selling this afternoon is the very same gas they had in their tanks this morning. The gas they probably had in those tanks 3 days ago. The gas I know was not previously sold at a loss. Somewhere in my brain (or maybe they exist on a cellular level) are the universal memories from our ancestors about calculating retail markup.

Wholesale price x Markup percentage + State, Federal and Local Taxes = Retail Price

Therefore, gasoline received in a given shipment should always have the same price until another shipment is received.

When exactly did it change to this whacked formula?

Wholesale price x (Markup percentage x percentage of public need)
x journalistic fear mongering + Taxes = Retail Price

Which lasts exactly 1.2 hours.

I heard on the World News last night that price projections by the end of the summer are between $5 and $6.

What are we going to do?

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In other less expensive news...

Here is a video of D for your enjoyment. Please be noting the mad musical skilz of my youngest rug rat. Also the cheeks.

I am one. Are you?

I always knew I was. I just didn’t know why. And I certainly didn’t know what to tell you when you’ve asked or commented on how well I’ve handled this or that.

“Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I’m just a Mom doing the whole Mom Thing. You’d do the same.”

But the fact is you might not.

According to this article that ran in our paper yesterday, I’ve long been a member of some secret happy society. Here are Ms. Griffith’s observations on what makes happy people happy. I have to say I think she’s on to something.

Live in the present.
Don’t look for a specific event to happen “some day” to make you happy. Be happy in the place you are right now.

I do pretty well with this one these days, although when I was much younger I spent all my time waiting for my life to “start”. Ha! Good thing I got tired of waiting around and took matters into my own hands.

My biggest problem here is not living in the present but being present. Does that make sense? Like when I’m down on the floor playing with my boys and I’m really thinking how much laundry there is to be done, that dinner needs to be started, and how B hasn’t cleaned his room yet like I told him to this morning. That way he’s not allowed to be present either. Humph.

Ok. I’ll try to work on this a bit more for happiness’ sake.

Practice forgiveness.
Pretty self-explanatory. Anyone know how to teach someone how to do this? I’ve been doing it as long as I can remember, but have never had to contemplate the process before. In my discussions with a co-worker I recognized the truth of the matter. Forgiveness is a decision not a feeling. So many people wait around for that feeling of forgiveness to wash over them. It’s just not going to happen that way. Unless you make a deliberate choice to shrug off the bitterness or malice you feel towards someone it just isn’t going to go away. In other words, Fake it till you make it, Baby!!!

Have a thick skin.
Don’t be easily offended. I try (this is the operative word here, folks) to see the offending party’s point of view. It helps me decide first, if I even need to be offended, and second if the shoe being thrown at me is indeed my size. I am not always completely successful in this. I mean, I love a good bitch-fest just as much as the next girl… then it’s out of my system and I move on. But sometimes… sometimes I’ll be hit with a comment that is visibly benign yet still find myself seething with resentment or anger or just plain old hurt feelings… I am always just as shocked by this as the offender. I do hate it when my psychological junk drawer gets stuck open and crap starts falling all over the place.

Find the joy in little things.
This doesn’t count if we’re talking about sex. I’m just saying.

Bring beauty into your life.
I think this is incredibly important. I need to see the wonder of God around me every day. I lived in town for two years when Daddy-O & I first started dating. After a few months I was seriously depressed. I saw nothing but town my entire way to work. Asphalt. Sidewalks. Trees surrounded by sidewalks. Traffic lights. Cars. No nature. No wildlife. No nothing.

Now I am back in the “country” or at least the unincorporated area of the County. My drive to town every day is an array of tidal splendor, spectacular views of Hollister Peak, cows and horses grazing on the hillsides, and agricultural fields sparkling with dew in the sunrise. It is rejuvenating. There is no better way to begin and end my day.

Get connected.
Some of the unhappiest people I know are no longer speaking to one or more of their parents or siblings. I say life is too short to sweat the small stuff. Get over it. I try to maintain my relationships. Even with my Ex’s. Plus, there’s all of you. People scoff. But apparently all us happy people know all about connections like the internet and blogging and such.

Now you’re probably reading this thinking one of two things. Either you think I’m full of crap or you think I’m an incredibly well-adjusted Mommy Blogger/Cancer Survivor. Well, you’re all wrong. No. You’re all right. I’m both of those things. I am also none of those things. And just to prove it, I offer into evidence the last advice for being happy:

Celebrate every day.
I don’t think she’s talking about birthdays here. But I do like what she says and she’s on the money. “Every day is a miracle. Just ask someone with a terminal illness.” Man alive, there is nothing like a cancer diagnosis to make you glad to get up in the morning. The post-diagnosis joy in and appreciation for life can only be compared to a post-coital man’s generosity toward all humankind and general willingness to do anything asked of him.

Unfortunately, it lasts about as long too. This is where I am today. My rose colored glasses are all askew again. I’m having a hard time looking beyond the “I’m broke” and the price of gas to all the “Will you just listen to that bird singing!”

I guess I’ll add this one to my check list too. We all have to have a project after all.

I beg to differ...

This morning as I was scanning my homepage for all that is newsworthy, I found this little tidbit waiting for me. As someone who has "been there, done that" , had the bad memory and (still have) the battle scars to prove it, I take exception to this.

There were two studies done. The first went a little something like this...

Here are 30 women just diagnosed with breast cancer and also 30 healthy women. Let's give them a "cognitive test." Now let's give them another after each and every round of chemo. In the results, "the breast cancer patients had slight problems in attention and learning skills before chemotherapy even started. After treatments, they showed a minor slowing in thinking speed. Three women, or 10 percent, did develop cognitive problems during chemotherapy."

Are they implying that women who get breast cancer are naturally slower than healthy women - or just shell shocked after diagnosis?

"We also found that the women who reported that they had problems with memory, concentration and other cognitive skills were not actually the ones who developed problems as determined by the tests."

Are they liars or whiners... or perhaps the other women were not bright enough to realize they were suffering conginitively?

The second study was a bit more in depth.

"The second study tested the cognitive abilities of three groups of women -- pre-treatment breast cancer patients, recent post-benign biopsy patients and breast cancer survivors who were one year past completed treatment. They were also evaluated for anxiety, depression, their overall quality of life and the amount of social support they had.

The recently diagnosed women and those who recently had benign biopsies scored about the same on tests of working memory and spatial learning. However, both groups were slower and less accurate than the breast cancer survivors. In addition, memory and learning scores for the breast cancer patients did not dip significantly during the initial stages of treatment, the study found.

The recently diagnosed women who had better overall quality of life also had better scores on the cognitive tests."

I don't mean to doubt the validity of their research, however, have any of them ever gone through chemo? What kind of cognitive test was given? Was it math and reading comprehension? Or was it a "real life" test with questions like "where are your car keys right now?" or "what is your son's first grade teacher's name?"

My favorite part of all, though, is how the article not only takes a very real side effect and makes it imaginary or stress related and then rests the blame squarely on the woman's doorstep by tying it to her quality of life. Chemo Brain? Hmmmm... perhaps you should have thought about that before you let your quality of life deteriorate...

My limits...

Ugh. Sigh. Great. Big. Fat. SIGH.

It's been a rough few weeks and BLOGGER ISN'T HELPING. I keep trying to post but my linking stuff doesn't work - nor do any other things like bold or italics. **sigh**

Between my sciatic nerve being pinched (!) or something (?), and Daddy-O being on the last one (nerve) I have, B complaining of earaches, knees hurting and his most recent "it hurts my heart when I take a deep breath" almost constantly, and D making mower-blower-weedeater-vacuum noises continuously I am ready to scream. Or cry. Take your pick, because I could really go either way right now.

I have officially reached my limit.

Stop #1 on the Roadtrip to MY LIMIT:

Almost 2 weeks ago D decided he didn't want his diaper changed. Of course, he chose to show his rebellion by kicking and twisting and thrusting just as I bent over to pick him off the ground. Good-bye lower back. Hello slow torture and burning that runs from my lower back, around my hip to my groin and also down the back of my leg just for good measure. Fast forward past six (!) trips to the chiropractor, each requiring 2 hours off work, and I don't really feel any better (though much poorer, thank you very much) yet.

Stop #2:

While men can fool around with sciatica if they have an accomidating partner - women CAN NOT. Please tell Daddy-O.

Stop #3:

Wonder Sitter called in sick two days in a row. Bless her for deserving time off to be ill herself when she's a God send for my own ill kids. No begrudging here. Just another stop in the journey.

Stop#4:

D has a videoed playdate yesterday that plainly illustrates that I have NOT been imagining the "is he autistic?, Nah, he isn't." behavior. Concensus from TWO therapists... Perhaps the Autism Diagnostic Center in Fresno might be a good side trip on this little road I'm on. Also, I got to hear a word I'd never heard before used no less than four times in relation to my son. PERSEVERATING. Contrary to popular opinion of therapists who shall remain nameless, this is NOT a blindism.

Stop #5:

B's routine (I thought) appointment for chest pain that I wrote off as growing pains ended in lab work & chest x-rays for anemia, & perhaps Mono & just to "rule out any bone things..." Gah!

Stop #6:

Daddy-O called to ask (none to kindly) why the baseball uniform wasn't washed and I am still at work when B has a ball game.

Screach! Skid! Crash!

Limit reached.

The title of this blog has been temporarily overridden by tax season

We are simple folks. Our taxes are fairly straightforward. I work for the government and Daddy-O is a self-employed Landscape Contractor with no full-time employees. Fortunately for our marriage, we pay someone else to do the actual preparing and filing of said taxes. Unfortunately for me the collection and organization of aforementioned tax docs is left to me.

Please tell me I'm not the only one in this boat lost in the fog on a Sea of Hell. Oh, the personal tax papers are a piece of cake. I keep them in reasonable order all year. But the business taxes. Oh ho ho. Now that is another story entirely!

Daddy-O is not the most organized man in the world. He is very proud of himself for keeping a file of each and every receipt this year. Yeah for him! Of course, he didn't bother to keep any of his credit card statements.

We keep our finances separate. (That is our recipe for a happy marriage.) So he became uber defensive when I had to go through his checkbook registers. Hello??? Separate does not equal Secret. What is it about taxes that bring out the worst in people?

I'm not even done yet (our tax appointment is Thursday. Ack!) and I'm pretty disgusted with the numbers I'm seeing. I can tell you without getting into exact figures that we spent roughly the same amount of money for Blue Cross/Blue Shield PPO premiums (self & family), gasoline for Daddy-O's landscape business and copays for prescriptions and doctors visits. And the three amounts combined were more than my salary my first year working for the Government.

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Here is a picture of B a the Scitechatorium. He's getting electrocuted by a Van de Graff generator. It was really neat and it made his new mullet stand up all over the place. Interestingly enough, Nana said when she was a girl she got to be the class volunteer for the same experiment. Only in her class she touched the ball and another student touched her, another touched that student, etc, etc... all around the room. As the electrical charge passed through each one to the other their hair stood on end. Pretty soon the whole class's hair was standing straight up!

I love this picture of D. He's talking to his Nana on the phone. I kept trying to take the phone from him but he wouldn't let me. I can't get over how old he looks. And mature. And like a guy. Look at that body language. Add 12 or 13 years and it will be a girl he's talking to on the other end of that phone. Just like his daddy.


Speaking of his Daddy... D is still trying to work out which is the working end of a lawnmower. Is the love of motorized objects inherently male? He can't see the levers and wheels and blades and such. He only had to hear the motor once to fall in love. It must be some sort of testosterone poisoning.

A letter to my body

As usual, I'm a day late and a dollar short. But I just couldn't pass up this opportunity to address some issues that have long been neglected. Blogher has asked people what they would say in a letter to their body. This is a project I can sink my teeth into.

Dear Body,

You are my oldest and dearest friend. You have always been there for me from those first hesitant steps to my sure stride of today. Yet I have not proved as faithful.

In my childhood I didn't spare a thought for you. I took you for granted. I ran, played and lived in ignorance of illness beyond the cold or flu. In your strength I was afforded that luxury. As an adult I can see what a true blessing that was.

As I got older I was not pleased when I looked in the mirror. Well, not really true. I was pleased enough with what I saw in the mirror. I was displeased with how you, Body, compared with those of my peers. I thought you were not thin enough. Not really fat - just too big. Your breasts were too big and developed too early. I didn't like being singled out as one of the few girls who wore a bra in 5th grade. Who knew how much of my self-image would be tied to those breasts of yours later in life...

Once I discovered boys and their, er, toys, I reached an uneasy truce with you. By this time I had learned to appreciate your finer physical attributes. But I had never had reason to think beyond looks. Ignorance is bliss. And youth is cocky. I sorely abused you. I am so sorry.

I poisoned you with drugs. At first I didn't think about what it could do to you. Ignorance again. But after years of using and becoming "educated" in the process I knew how bad the drugs were for you. I knew they were made of toxic materials. I worried about your future health even as I looked in the mirror & poisoned you once again. Eventually, I came to my senses and stopped that madness... but at what cost?

Finally, when I got pregnant, I truly began to appreciate you for your many talents. You proved fertile and well-suited to pregnancy. I took great pride in your accomplishments. I loved you and the baby you made! Ugh! But I hated the fat I saw everywhere. I dismayed at every being thin again. I was disgusted by the gigantic engorged breasts! Ridiculously large! Why hadn't I appreciated the normal large they were before?

A few years passed & I felt you had failed me again with a late miscarriage and an ectopic pregnancy. I'd lost that earlier pride in your strength and fertility. And then you came through again. You gave me another baby. All was forgiven.

I think this is the time that I really fell in love with you. After working with you so long to get pregnant I finally had a true appreciation for your beauty, your strength, your wondrous capabilities. I had never felt more beautiful in my life. Those pregnancy months were blissful, halcyon days in our relationship. I reveled in your power to create life. Wow! How awesome!

Then I found out you had cancer. Breast cancer. Yet, even then, at your weakest point, you were strong. You fought through the chemo. You had incredible reserves! You barely even got sick. I am in awe of you! Then the radiation in conjunction with more chemo. I weep for the abuse you took. But nothing kept you down. You rock!!!!!

Today you have survived massive reconstructive surgeries, cancer, years of drug use and just plain owner neglect. You look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. I can't believe how strong you are! I just really want to say, thank you.

Thank you for always being there. For going the extra mile, for standing a little straighter and holding out a little longer. Thank you for my babies. Thank you for your incredible recuperative powers. I promise to never take you for granted again.

Your life partner.

I've never been more of an, er, donkey

I have always been Republican and proud of it. Granted, I consider myself to be a very liberal Republican (no overturning of Roe v. Wade on my schedule but wouldn't catch me attending a pro-choice rally either) but still, quite elephant-like in my political leanings. I guess I've always attributed Democratic qualities to slackers, twirlers (my pet name for the Deadheads & other such concert going, spinning-in-front-of-the-stage-until-I-want-to-puke-and-I'm-only-watching-them folk my husband used to hang with) and people who didn't know any better. And then came Senator Barack Obama.

The man inspires me. Listening to him speak gives me goose bumps. I listen to his speeches. The simplest of them are expansive and global yet appeal directly to the small town heart in each of us. Everyone talks about his charisma. He certainly has that. Long before the Kennedy's jumped on his band wagon I had been telling Daddy-O that Barack Obama reminded me of how everyone talked of JFK's charismatic presence. (Bah, on all that Clinton = Camelot hooey! Although the Clinton White House could certainly have used a few more chastity belts!)
Daddy-O has been skeptical and very slow to come around.

Oh, I also like the man's politics. Mostly, I love that he's a different kind of politician. I like that he thinks Americans are smart enough to be told the truth about what it takes to run a Country. And that he wants us to know that truth. And best of all, that he believes that once armed with knowledge, we Americans will make the right decisions for our Country and for ourselves.

There is a hidden benefit to that kind of empowerment. Ownership. Ownership of our political system. Ownership of our Country. Ownership of our future. Ownership of our present. Perhaps that mutual ownership is all that's needed to bridge the racial divide that splits our country? This is the only country in the world with hyphenated titles: African-American, Mexican-American, Cuban-American. I've never heard anyone call themselves a Canadian-American or an Australian-American. Perhaps when there is more Trust and Ownership in our political system everyone living here will actually feel that this is home. Maybe then we will all just be Americans.

Can one man do that? Can Barack Obama restore the people's faith in government? Can he cut through the decades of deceit and half-truths that have grown from the seeds sown during Watergate? Can he bridge the divide between the blue & the red? The elephants and the donkeys? Can he do it? I don't know. But I know that when I think of listening to him speak for the next four years as President of the United States I feel warm inside, and safe, as if all things are possible if we only believe.

I couldn't have said it better myself. I know because I've tried.

So, a friend at work had told me a while ago about this article called "Don't Waste Your Cancer" by John Piper. She mentioned it to me after I had introduced her to this post by PunkRockMommy. I finally looked it up on the internet.

Geez, what did I ever do without the internet?

John Piper is a very smart man. He very eloquently put into words something I've been lamely trying to relate to people for a while now. So, here is "Don't Waste Your Cancer" by John Piper.

MINNEAPOLIS (BP)--I write this on the eve of prostate surgery. I believe in God’s power to heal -- by miracle and by medicine. I believe it is right and good to pray for both kinds of healing. Cancer is not wasted when it is healed by God. He gets the glory and that is why cancer exists. So not to pray for healing may waste your cancer. But healing is not God’s plan for everyone. And there are many other ways to waste your cancer. I am praying for myself and for you that we will not waste this pain.

-- You will waste your cancer if you do not believe it is designed for you by God.

It will not do to say that God only uses our cancer but does not design it. What God permits, He permits for a reason. And that reason is His design. If God foresees molecular developments becoming cancer, He can stop it or not. If He does not, He has a purpose. Since He is infinitely wise, it is right to call this purpose a design. Satan is real and causes many pleasures and pains. But he is not ultimate. So when he strikes Job with boils (Job 2:7), Job attributes it ultimately to God (2:10) and the inspired writer agrees: “They ... comforted him for all the evil that the Lord had brought upon him” (Job 42:11). If you don’t believe your cancer is designed for you by God, you will waste it.

-- You will waste your cancer if you believe it is a curse and not a gift.

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us” (Galatians 3:13). “There is no enchantment against Jacob, no divination against Israel” (Numbers 23:23). “The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11).

-- You will waste your cancer if you seek comfort from your odds rather than from God.

The design of God in your cancer is not to train you in the rationalistic, human calculation of odds. The world gets comfort from their odds. Not Christians. Some count their chariots (percentages of survival) and some count their horses (side effects of treatment), but we trust in the name of the Lord our God (Psalm 20:7). God’s design is clear from 2 Corinthians 1:9, “We felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.” The aim of God in your cancer (among a thousand other good things) is to knock props out from under our hearts so that we rely utterly on Him.

-- You will waste your cancer if you refuse to think about death.

We will all die, if Jesus postpones his return. Not to think about what it will be like to leave this life and meet God is folly. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says, “It is better to go to the house of mourning [a funeral] than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart.” How can you lay it to heart if you won’t think about it? Psalm 90:12 says, “Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” Numbering your days means thinking about how few there are and that they will end. How will you get a heart of wisdom if you refuse to think about this? What a waste, if we do not think about death.

-- You will waste your cancer if you think that “beating” cancer means staying alive rather than cherishing Christ.

Satan’s and God’s designs in your cancer are not the same. Satan designs to destroy your love for Christ. God designs to deepen your love for Christ. Cancer does not win if you die. It wins if you fail to cherish Christ. God’s design is to wean you off the breast of the world and feast you on the sufficiency of Christ. It is meant to help you say and feel, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” And to know that therefore, “To live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 3:8; 1:21).

-- You will waste your cancer if you spend too much time reading about cancer and not enough time reading about God.

It is not wrong to know about cancer. Ignorance is not a virtue. But the lure to know more and more and the lack of zeal to know God more and more is symptomatic of unbelief. Cancer is meant to waken us to the reality of God. It is meant to put feeling and force behind the command, “Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord” (Hosea 6:3). It is meant to waken us to the truth of Daniel 11:32, “The people who know their God shall stand firm and take action.” It is meant to make unshakable, indestructible oak trees out of us: “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:2). What a waste of cancer if we read day and night about cancer and not about God.

-- You will waste your cancer if you let it drive you into solitude instead of deepen your relationships with manifest affection.

When Epaphroditus brought the gifts to Paul sent by the Philippian church he became ill and almost died. Paul tells the Philippians, “He has been longing for you all and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill” (Philippians 2:26-27). What an amazing response! It does not say they were distressed that he was ill, but that he was distressed because they heard he was ill. That is the kind of heart God is aiming to create with cancer: a deeply affectionate, caring heart for people. Don’t waste your cancer by retreating into yourself.

-- You will waste your cancer if you grieve as those who have no hope.

Paul used this phrase in relation to those whose loved ones had died: “We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). There is a grief at death. Even for the believer who dies, there is temporary loss -- loss of body, and loss of loved ones here, and loss of earthly ministry. But the grief is different -- it is permeated with hope. “We would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8). Don’t waste your cancer grieving as those who don’t have this hope.

-- You will waste your cancer if you treat sin as casually as before.

Are your besetting sins as attractive as they were before you had cancer? If so you are wasting your cancer. Cancer is designed to destroy the appetite for sin. Pride, greed, lust, hatred, unforgiveness, impatience, laziness, procrastination -- all these are the adversaries that cancer is meant to attack. Don’t just think of battling against cancer. Also think of battling with cancer. All these things are worse enemies than cancer. Don’t waste the power of cancer to crush these foes. Let the presence of eternity make the sins of time look as futile as they really are. “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?” (Luke 9:25).

-- You will waste your cancer if you fail to use it as a means of witness to the truth and glory of Christ.

Christians are never anywhere by divine accident. There are reasons for why we wind up where we do. Consider what Jesus said about painful, unplanned circumstances: “They will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors for my name’s sake. This will be your opportunity to bear witness” (Luke 21:12 -13). So it is with cancer. This will be an opportunity to bear witness. Christ is infinitely worthy. Here is a golden opportunity to show that He is worth more than life. Don’t waste it.

Remember you are not left alone. You will have the help you need. “My God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).
--30--
Copyright 2006 John Piper. Used by permission. John Piper is the pastor for preaching at Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, Minn. For more information, visit www.DesiringGod.org.

I couldn't agree more.

Because terrorists are known for their toiletries

I've only just regained my ability to be civil regarding the entire airline industry after returning from Maryland on Friday (sorry Killer Boob). You'd think I hadn't flown in eons... but really, I just went to Mexico last October. That's a whole other country, folks. They don't even speak our language or anything. And I had to get a passport. And yet, I still managed to make it all the way there and back (thank you very much) with out so much as one confiscated toiletry item. But some how, I could not even make it out of our teeny, tiny little airport without my poor bags being manhandled by the security personnel.

In the airline's defense, I did have a moment of blatant disregard for the rules and threw the entire tube of my Crest Whitening Expressions Vanilla Mint toothpaste into my carry on. I can't help it. I love the stuff. I just wasn't thinking. Same with my Mary K face cleanser. Just didn't think about it being over 4 oz. However, I did spend the time to go shopping for those handy-dandy little empty travel containers for shampoo & such just so I could bring my other toiletries. The airline website clearly stated "Travel size liquids, aerosols and gels are allowed in carry-on baggage if they are in containers that are 3.4 oz (100ml) or smaller." Well, nowhere in the greater central coast could I find travel containers less than 4 oz in size. So, I filled them half full. Which, got them all thrown away by the friendly flight security folks.

The shampoo is no big deal. But my contact solution and saline for sensitive eyes is hard to find. I showed the Nazi-ette that the bottles were clearly only half filled so as to be under 3.4 oz. Apparently it's the size of the container not the amount in them that matters. She had the nerve to tell me I should have packed it in my suitcase. Like I'm going to trust them not to lose my luggage. Humph.

So, when I got to Mama C's house I found that my well-packed (expensive) hair mousse had been broken in my suitcase. Thankfully, just the nozzle snapped off and was still usable - and a bit annoying.

Fast forward to my return flight when I checked my carry-on. Once I got home I discovered a varied assortment of toiletry carnage. The previously maimed mousse was fatally wounded - cap and nozzle ring crushed. My Big Sexy Hairspray for my small hoping-to-be-sexy hair is also capless from here on out. I have a tray of daily pill organizers that were shattered. All my meds were free-floating in my luggage. All my make up in my Kaboodle was completely pulverized. I'm not talking about blusher being broken into a few chunks here... I'm talking about turning my make up case into an urn... the final resting place for too many dollars worth of Mary K blush, eye shadow, pressed powder and loose powder (now looser still).

Maybe I'll ship ahead next time.

In your Facebook

So... I've been so out of the loop lately that I'm really just catching up on all the internet gossip. I'm sure by now you've all heard all the brouhaha about Facebook disallowing pictures of breastfeeding women as inappropriate and pornagraphic. Well, first let me say that I didn't even know what Facebook was before this and I did not use it. Second, there is nothing pornagraphic about a woman breastfeeding a child... except (and this is strickly my own personal view here) when said child is able to walk to school on his/her own).

That being said, and me being way past the breastfeeding years and also no longer in possession of my very own breasts (thank you very much), I would like to offer this larger than life photo of D nursing.

I like to call it BLOWING UP A BALLOON.

For shame Facebook! There is no shame in the natural function of a womans body feeding her child.