Jul. 10: Relay for Life 2012

This past weekend, finally, was Relay for Life. During the months of planning leading up to July 7 and 8, I was eager to participate. Friends and family motivated me further as they registered for our team and asked how they could help with fundraising. My spirits were high; Relay is an event I've really come to enjoy.

If you’ve been involved with Relay before, you know that much of its 24-hour length is a roller coaster of emotions, topped with an exceedingly powerful reminder of the hope we have to find a cure for that asshole of a disease, cancer. It’s exciting to honor the survivors at Relay, and the event planners give us lots of opportunities to celebrate that we’re still here. Caregivers are also given special recognition. The Luminaria ceremony is a touching and solemn time to honor everyone who's ever heard the words "You have cancer," and a time to remember loved ones who lost their fight. Relay truly honors everyone.


I expected that Relay would be as emotional an experience as it’s been in the past two years. But when Relay day actually arrived, I felt detached from the celebration part of it. I mean, I participated in all of the survivor activities and fundraised my ass off, but I could tell I wasn’t all in. It was as though part of my brain had shut off—the part that would have let me break down into a crumpled mess of snotty tears on the track. And I say that it was my brain, not my heart, because my heart is a big idiot that doesn't know when too much is too much.

Apparently this was too much.

I can't share the specifics of WHY it was too much (I'm not even sure what they are), but here's what I know:

• I'm fine, health-wise. Ish. Actually, today I had an 18-month post-treatment scan and it looked good, so there is little to worry about there.
• I'm exhausted from staying up too late for too many nights, stressing over silly stuff, and trying to make everything be perfect. 
• I've slept at least 18 hours a day for the past three days.
• My mom is fabtaculous.
• The part of my brain that shut off was apparently the part that knew when to apply sunscreen. I am very, very ouchy.

The good news is that our little event raised $60,000 for American Cancer Society, and our team was responsible for nearly $4,000 of that. Cancer can sooooo suck it.
 


P.S. Please ignore the straight quotes and apostrophes. I have NOT the energy to fix them.

Oct. 21: That. Is. It.

This week just about did me in. I’m so glad it’s over.

Jogathon is also over (hallelujah!), and it appears that we’re a bit short of our fundraising goal (boo!), but there’s still time for that to change. I kinda lived at the school all week, and that’d be fine if I was getting paid for what I did there. I love the things I do for the school, but it all beats the hell out of me sometimes.

I could tell I was reaching my limit as I sat through a grant writing workshop for educators last night. The facilitator proceeded to read, word-for-word, thirteen pages of the handout. Hel-LO? I can read. If I couldn’t read, I wouldn’t have known there was going to be a workshop. If I had known I was going to be read to at the workshop, I would have saved those 90 minutes and bought a book instead. I HATE being read to in an educational environment. If someone’s up front, I better damn well get something more than what’s printed on the pages in front of me. Grrrr.

The fact that this irritated me so much was the first sign that I had reached my limit for the week. The fact that the workshop was free and I was still pissy about it, made it clear: Jen needed a time-out. The fact that I didn’t win any of the stupid door prizes had nothing to do with my pissy-ness. Well, maybe a little. I like winning shit.

When I got home, I started to download the new iPhone software. Ever since, my computer and/or my phone have been disabled while it all recalibrates. Thankfully, one of them has worked when the other hasn’t, but it’s still frustrating. Either I can’t make calls and send text messages, or I can’t read and write emails. My laptop is running running running, and I think it’s going to burst into flames just to spite me. That’s what technology does. Right now it’s working on my fourth and final attempt to sync my iTunes library to my phone. If it doesn’t work this time, I’m goin’ all Amish on yer ass, in which case I’ll have to write my blog posts out on paper and mail them to you and you KNOW that’s never gonna happen.

The weekend has arrived, and just in time. I plan to savor every moment until I’m due back at the school Monday morning.

Aug. 21: Sometimes

Jul. 30: IDCEAYWTPFriday

It’s Friday, and that means you get a post called I Don’t Care Enough About You to Write in Transitioning Paragraphs Friday.

• There’s a new, limited-edition Tillamook ice cream called Grandma’s Cake Batter and it. is. delicious. Like most cake batter-flavored ice creams, it tastes like cake batter and has sprinkles in it. But the Grandma’s Cake Batter also has cream cheese frosting ribbons through it—YUM!—and pieces of cake. Uh, I want to make sure you get that: PIECES OF CAKE. In the ice cream. Pieces of cake in the ice cream, yes. So good. So evil. When you browse the freezer full of Tillamook ice cream cartons at the grocery store, look for a red lid. The red means extry-tasty. (You locals can find it at New Seasons, not Albertsons.)
• Have you read Sarah Palin’s secret dictionary? It’s a good’n.
• I went in for the appointment with my doctor on Wednesday. The nurse fell all over herself with concern, but the doctor was fairly indifferent. When he asked how I was doing, I said, “Well, I have cancer…” but he didn’t take the opportunity to apologize or say “oops” or anything (not that I expected him to), and went right on to more questions. Overall he wasn’t a total jerk, but he wasn’t Dr. Super-Nice-Guy-Because-I-Nearly-Let-You-Die, either. And I handled it all grownup-like, without yelling or crying or flipping him off outside my head, so there’s that. I got my prescription refill and left with a stronger-than-ever resolve to find a new primary care physician. If you have any recommendations, please feel free to send them my way, because I really, really hate this doctor.
• If you like Zach Galifianakis and haven’t watched any of the Between Two Ferns shows at Funny or Die, you’re missing out. Be warned that they are not for little ears. The latest one is with Steve Carell:
  
  
  
• Yesterday was Vic’s birthday. He turned… older. We partied with much delicious food over at Darlene and Wellington’s, and were glad to have his sister Sonya and her family, as well as Sally and Presley (Daryl will be here in a few days) there to celebrate with us. We have such a good time when we’re all together. I married into a lovely family.
• I had chemo #12 on July 20 and still haven’t written about it. I will, though. Still needing to follow up on a small issue and then I’ll actually have something to say.
• This is weird: a dance studio in Scotland is offering pole dancing classes for kids. Now, we all know that pole dancing is a good way to fight cancer and look fabulous doing it, but I’m not sure how I feel about lessons for little ones. Whatevs.
• So now that I’m a big fan of Flight of the Conchords, I was excited to see Kristen Schaal (Mel) was on Letterman this week. She was quite charming and funny:
  
  
  
  
  
• Yesterday I shopped for Katie and Jack’s school supplies. I can’t believe it’s already time to start getting ready for a new school year. Yes, we still have a month of summer left, but there’s so much to do and I know the time will fly. Just thinking about it exhausts me. Dina, you threw a last day of school party; how ‘bout I throw a first day of school party? Five Lemon Drops for everyone!
• The almost-constant sun we’ve had for the past few weeks is making our garden grow and grow. I’ll close this week’s IDCEAYWTPFriday with pictures I took in our yard earlier this week.

 Our coneflowers finally bloomed!

 I think their big fat centers are so cool.

 This is one of the bellflower plants, and it’s beginning to wither.
It’s still got beautiful color, though, and lots more buds to enjoy.
What I love about these flowers are the centers. Take a closer look:

See how they’re all curly?
In the wider angle, you can see the shadows of some of the middles too.
I love these tiny little details.

  Here’s a close-up of one of our tiny little sea thrifts.
The blossoms don’t last long on these flowers, but they bloom for months and months, so I don’t mind.

  I was so glad to see our agapanthus finally started to open up last week.
The ones we planted last spring froze during the winter; this is a new one and much smaller.
If it lasts through next winter we’ll have a nice big one next spring.
Keep your fingers crossed for us.
Muy importante.

I gotta say, I’m glad to see this week finally end. It was a rough one for me. It shouldn’t have been, with the kids at Grandpa and Grandma’s almost all week, but it was. I’m not sure what triggered the slide down down down, but I was exhausted in every way. I look forward to a peaceful weekend and having Victor home for a couple days. (I kinda like him.) Y’all have a good weekend too! Smooches—

Jun. 27: Our Seattle weekend

This past weekend was crazy-busy, and so much fun.

We left Portland late Friday afternoon and drove up to our hotel near the Seattle airport. The sun had set by the time we got the car unloaded, and the kids were mad that we wouldn’t let them swim anyway. Vic went out and brought food back to our room, where the kids ate while moping. Before they fell asleep, they were slightly cheered by our promises of more fun the next day.

We got up early Saturday and hopped on the light rail to Qwest Field (the finish line of Kathy’s marathon). We had planned to meet her at the ‘V’ family reunion section, which was oh-so-noisily located directly in front of one of the band stages. They were loud. LOUD. I had been getting updates on Kathy’s progress via text message but didn’t hear anything for the last four miles of the race, so we had no idea when she’d finish. April and Emma found us, and then Kathy showed. Hooray! We were surprised to see her talking coherently and standing with no trouble—she really did rock that half-marathon!

Brenda and Sean came along soon after, and all of us got back on the light rail to get lunch at Cheesecake Factory. While walking back, I twisted my ankle in the crosswalk like the clumsy idiot I am, and I banged up my shins and knee like a mo-fo. I was trying super-hard not to be a whiny baby, but OH MY BUDDHA, it really hurt. I just wanted to lay down somewhere.

The day wasn’t even close to being over, though. Kathy and Brenda had plans on their own, and Sean was flying back to Colorado, so the rest of us went back to our hotel. Jim and Trevor came over too, and the four kids dragged the dads to the pool, FINALLY. April and I started off on our two-hour road trip to Bellingham.

We were driving north to see Pamela Ribon, author of Why Girls Are Weird, Why Moms Are Weird, and Going In Circles, which is the book with which she’s currently touring.

FLASHBACK: You might remember a while back that she found a blog post I’d written about Why Girls Are Weird and offered to send me her newest book to get through the boredom of chemo. Doesn’t that make her awesome? Yes! What made her even more awesome was that she not only sent Going In Circles, she included Why Moms Are Weird—which is out of print and she had to get on eBay—and Cold Feet, a book to which she was a contributor. All of them were signed to me and the gesture made me feel like the specialest person, like, EVER.

April and I had about an hour to kill, so we walked around Fairhaven. Most of the stores were closed, but we ran across one called Katie’s Cupcakes and couldn’t resist going in. We each bought a pair of red velvet cupcakes for our kids, and she accidentally left hers in my car until this evening (that buttercream frosting ought to be reeeeally good now). We grabbed a quick dinner and then headed into Village Books for the reading/signing. I’m going to write about the Pamela Ribon Experience™ in another post because April took some pictures I need to go with my story and she’s going to email them to me. Sooooo… you’ll just have to wait. Ha. I will say, however, that it was fun and funny and I loved every minute. I was also glad to hear that I was not the only person worried about seeming stalker-y. Whew.

OK, so after the reading we still had the long drive back to Seattle, but it was great to have all that chat time together. I took April to her car at the light rail station and we made plans to meet again in the morning. When I got back to our hotel I was surprised to see the kids had already fallen asleep—all that swimming with Emma and Trevor really wore them out.

This morning we checked out of our hotel and drove up to Woodland Park Zoo. Jim, April, Emma and Trevor were there, and we also met up with an old college friend Jim (Sharon) and his wife Jen and their adorable son Carter. No one in our family had been to that zoo before, but the Jordans and Sharons were very familiar and escorted us through like real professionals.  

Katie and I were especially excited to see the red pandas—we don’t have them at our local zoo—and this is what we saw when we got to their exhibit:

 

You know why Katie and I like red pandas? Because they look like this:

Yeah. They’re totally cute, right? You can imagine, then, how disappointing it was for us to only see them like this:

Stoopid hide-y red pandas.

We saw lots of well-behaved animals, though, and it was great fun overall. The weather was good—not too hot—and the crowds were light. The kids had a lot of fun tearing around the place. Katie got to feed a bird with a seed stick:

…and Jack rode a monkey or leopard or something metal:

 

After our zoo adventure we grabbed a quick dinner before we went our separate ways (April has pics of that too). We got home tonight and are completely exhausted, but in the best way. Our trip was loads of fun, and full of family and friends—exactly how a weekend away from home should be.

Come back again for more details.

Sep. 29: The crazy is making me crazy

Y’know how sometimes people look kinda crazy (not crazy like “funny” but crazy like “off their rocker”) and you immediately know that you shouldn’t take anything they say seriously because they’re obviously off the medication that allows them to function like a normal person?

I sometimes think I should accompany each of my blog posts with a photo of myself taken at the time the post was written so you can see how sane (or otherwise) I look. This way you might have a better understanding of why some most posts have no point. Because until someone develops a computer in which buttons that post to public forums can sense insanity in the person attached to the clicking finger—and until I get one of those computers—we as an Internet public are subject to all sorts o’ batshit crazy. For instance:

• I started out my day having slept just a few hours. I woke up repeatedly throughout the night with pain shooting up one leg and one side of my back, and nothing I did and no words I yelled made any difference.
• I turned on my computer this morning to find an e-mail containing distressing news from a dear friend. I feel helpless and am trying to decide the best response to let this friend know how much I care.
• Either our cable line or both of our TiVos are farked up and the TV picture occasionally freezes or scrambles, even when I’m not watching the naughty stations. Neighbors out there, please tell me yours is doing the same thing. IT IS TOTALLY PISSING ME OFF. I was hoping it might be because of all the digging going on in our neighborhood right now but that’s probably just wishful thinking.
• There’s no school tomorrow. I don’t know why schools have to have teacher in-service days. My guess is that the teachers are tired of trying to keep our kids busy, so they’re turning it back on us so WE have to figure out what to do with them for a day in the middle of the week. Wow. Teachers be smart.
• Every day that I’ve taken a walk has evolved into me waking in the middle of the night with intense pain. My professional opinion is that even small amounts of exercise are bad for me right now. I shall drown my sorrows in many, many Advil, because Vicodin stopped doing any good a long time ago, and the small amount of rum I poured in my Coke the other day ended up giving me a huge headache. Is it possible I just needed more? Hm. So Advil or rum, either way… And now pretty soon I’m gonna need new kidneys. Little help?
• Tonight Jack told me that he wants to start showering in the mornings so he can wake up faster. I told him about how my dad used to throw a cup of water to wake me up when he thought I’d slept enough, and Jack thought that story was awesome. Funny, because Kathy’s and my memories of Dad doing that are anything but awesome. Anyway, as Jack wandered off to bed, he said, “If Grandpa Curt was alive I would ask him if he remembers that and if he thought it was funny and if he would do it to me.” And I burst into tears the second he walked out of the room because I hate that Jack doesn’t remember Grandpa Curt, only that he should.

See what I mean? I’m a mess. Physical pain can do a real number on us, and combined with miscellaneous (and sometimes stupid) frustrations, can cause totally unexpected emotions to surface, huh? Yikes. I need to stay off the computer, keep my finger away from “post” buttons, all that. But I’ve never been one to make good decisions. Instead, I acted like an idiot over on Facebook all day. Seriously—if you’re my friend and you can see the shit I wrote everywhere, you’ll go SHE WAS SOOOO NOT KIDDING!

Alright, so here’s the picture that best describes my state of mind right now. Notice I have no lipstick on. I couldn’t wear eye makeup for months after I fell last summer, but you won’t catch me dead leaving the house without lipstick. The only stronger indicator that something isn’t quite right with me is if I have lipstick smeared all over my mouth and teeth. That kinda means that for anyone, though.

My hair’s half ponytailed, half frizzy—no one’s best look. My just-off-center cowlick is doing its best to uglify my hairline. Any eye makeup you see is left over from yesterday, and lodged/smeared in the bags under my eyes. The dent in my chin is from the fall before that other fall. I know, you’re probably thinking “Girlfriend needs an old priest and a young priest!”

And let’s just say Princess Jen will be the “I’m alright” post photo:

So, is it a deal? Pictures speak a thousand words, right? Just think how much time you’ll save, not having to read a bunch of crap to find a purpose where there almost never is one. You’ll see the photo at the top and immediately know if you want to read the words under it.

Oh, you don’t have to thank me.

That horrified look on your face is thanks enough.

Jul. 24: Gratefulness=happiness

I’m feeling happily grateful this evening, and even more so after reading Sherilee’s post today. She always reminds me of the things I treasure—especially because she’s one of them!

I’ve bitched about a lot of stuff lately because it was a rough week for quite a few reasons, many of which I didn’t bother blogging about. But here are the things I’m feeling blessed to have experienced this week:

• Friends who say exactly what I need to hear. On Tuesday I was feeling frustrated with Jack because he was being a dillweed. At that level of frustration I usually want an answer, a solution that will magically fix everything. This time, though, it did me a world of good just to hear people say “I’ve been there.” I know there are no perfect solutions to dealing with kids but I appreciate the help I was offered because it really did make me feel less like I want to lock The Boy in his bedroom for the rest of the summer.
• I’m also thankful for the e-mails I got regarding the putting-animals-out-of-their-misery thing. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it, because those involved all fear overzealous PETA goons. (Don’t worry; the fish are still alive and happy-ish.)
• I’m making some headway in the bedroom re-do project. Victor and I got furniture moved to the rooms in which each piece will stay—a huge accomplishment. Sorting through closets and cabinets are the next thing on my list. Slowly, very slowly, we’re feeling some forward motion with the whole thing. ‘Tis good.
• My back pain has been sending me to the family room sofa to sleep every night. I am not thankful for this. But I am thankful for a husband who misses me sleeping next to him—he joined me on several nights this week, sleeping in the chair across the room. It is not comfortable for him; he is just good to me. I like having him nearby because he’s a cool dude, and I also suspect his presence considerably lessens the chance of me being attacked by vampires while I sleep.
• I found some new (to me) Christmas music for our 2009 CD. Hooray! More on that in December.
• My father- and mother-in-law are great about taking the kids when we’ve got things to do. Even with all their busy-ness of summer with Sonya’s family coming and going, church responsibilities, travel to and from Seattle, and all the other things that consume their schedule, they both go out of their way to be wonderful to us. We appreciate them very, very much.
• My sister is on Facebook again. This has pleased many people. And having my mom on there isn’t nearly as style-cramping as I expected! I’m glad to have yet another way to communicate with two of the coolest people in my life.
• I’m getting my hair cut tomorrow. It’s always nice to have a li’l bit o’ pampering, and I haven’t gotten to do much of that this summer. What I’d really like is a brow wax, but with my eyelid injuries still healing, I don’t dare—if I can’t wear eye makeup, I certainly can’t be ripping hot wax off my brows. That joyous experience will have to wait.
• Tomorrow the PTO board members are sitting outside Albertsons to encourage shoppers to connect their Preferred Savings cards to our school. It’s a passive fundraising thing, and can actually bring the school quite a bit of $$. We’re doing this on what is forecasted to be one of the hottest days of the summer in Portland. So what am I grateful for? That I’m not doing it by myself! Lovely Lori H and I are taking the 11-1 shift, in which we will be doing our best not to melt into sugary little pools. Get it? BECAUSE WE’RE SO SWEET. Duh.
• Speaking of the heat, I’m oh-so-thankful for air conditioning. I’ve also enjoyed our cool mornings this week, and love having the fresh air flowing through the house for a few hours.

It’s bedtime, or more specifically, couchtime. Have a great weekend, all!

Jan. 14: Out

I’m so tired of lying around all day every day. This morning when I woke up I thought, “I’m going to work today. I can’t stand this anymore.” Then I stood up and realized that I still hurt, and I hurt a lot. It had been more than six hours since my last pain pill so it made sense. I took a Vicodin—I’m slowly weaning myself off them; now I’m down to one every 5-8 hours—and went downstairs for coffee.

By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs I knew I was sooo not going to work today.

I ate a bowl of Cheerios, drank coffee, cleared my Google reader and answered some e-mails. I watched the last half of an old Law & Order (I swear, that show is on all day on some channel or another but I’m not complaining because I love it). I started to clean up my messy desk and decided I’d rather do something, anything, else.

The dogs get frustrated with me when I move around too much—“too much” meaning “more than twice a day.” I went back upstairs. The dogs sleepily followed me and were nervous the whole time I was in the shower, as they think showers happen just before they get left alone for hours. I put clean jammies on, played some Spider Solitaire, lay down, and read until I fell asleep.

When I woke up it was sunny and bright and I thought again about venturing out. I got dressed. Yes, in REAL CLOTHES! I couldn’t believe it either! Living in jammies for a week is awfully nice but it takes away all motivation to even open the front door.

I thought maybe a quick trek to the mailbox wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I bundled up and walked down the street. Twister, Dawn & Darby’s silly kitty with half a tail, was sitting under the mailboxes, and immediately began to scold me. I don’t know what I did wrong. Maybe Millie told her how lazy I’ve been all week. She rubbed just enough hair on me to piss off my dogs and ran off.

When I stepped back into the house the dogs looked relieved that I was FINALLY home, and they ran upstairs in front of me to cozy up on the bed again. And that’s where we are now.

I put on clothes, I got fresh air, I got exercise, and I got the mail. It was good to get out but it exhausted me. I’m done for the day, I tell ya.

Tomorrow I might try driving all the way to Trader Joes. Stay tuned.

Nov. 29: Home at last

We’re home, finally. We left Medford this afternoon and got back to Portland just after 7 tonight. Why is sitting in a car so exhausting? I’m speaking for me and Vic, of course—the kids have energy to spare and are tearing up the playroom as I write.

Millie was happy to see us. One of our sweet neighbor girls checked on her every day so she wasn’t alone the whole week. It seems she spent her solitary confinement adopting some new, very naughty habits, like jumping on the counters and tables. The squirt bottle put a stop to that but quick. (Know what works better than water in a squirt bottle? Acid in a squirt bottle.)

I worked on our trip report on the way home until my laptop battery died around Roseburg. I’ll try to get it finished tomorrow and post it with some photos.

There are comments to reply to, blogs to catch up with, and e-mails to answer. They’ll have to wait. I’m looking forward to falling asleep in my own bed, very soon.

I’ll leave you with this photo, which Katie took Thursday morning in Alamo Square. Budding photographer, eh?

Sep. 1: Call me Cinder-jen

Well, our house has been cluttered and embarrassingly messy for such a long time now that it was time to do one of the following:

1. Set fire to the house
   
2. Sell house "as is" for about 12 cents
   
3. Continue living this way until we are found dead in our home in 50 years, but they have to follow the smell because no one can find us among of all the piles of magazines, newspaper, and folded laundry, and we're dead a few months before the neighbors even notice because it's not unusual for us to have a month's worth of newspapers on the front porch and then our house will be on the news with all our relatives complaining that all we left them in our will is a big to-do list
   
4. Clean

My back is killing me because I chose #4. I decided it was the least illegal and/or embarrassing.

I want to point out that this is not just the normal picking-up kind of cleaning. This is the move-furniture-vacuum-repeatedly-go-through-every-drawer-and-cabinet-and-storage-box-and-closet-fill-the-garbage-can-12-times-with-the-receipts-Vic-never-seems-to-throw-away kind of cleaning. That kind.

I keep a lot of things I probably don't need. They end up in Rubbermaid boxes in the attic and every few years I shred a LOT of paper. But I married someone that's way worse than I am about keeping stuff. Exhibit 238: I found Vic's 1991 Ohio state tax forms in his nightstand drawer. I mean, you never know when you need to look at your taxes from 16 years ago (when you made no money), so it's a good idea to keep them handy in your nightstand.

Vic isn't even embarrassed! Mostly he just likes to say, "Jen got into my drawers for my junk." (Mom, if you don't read that sentence, it's okay with me.)

So far I've done Katie's and Jack's bedrooms, our vanity and bathroom and the master bedroom. And the best part is that I haven't messed up other rooms getting them clean; I'm putting things away as I go. The most time-consuming task is sorting the kids' clothes for donation and hand-me-downs. The other thing I don't like is arguing with Katie over things to throw away and keep. She is sooo like I was about hanging onto meaningless things. I try to remember how it felt and just hope that eventually she'll be able to throw things away on her own.

After a long day of backbreaking work, I collapsed in front of the TV tonight and, finding nothing on TiVo for me, flipped channels until I came to The Sound of Music. And now I want a ballroom in my house, just like the one in the movie but with fewer Nazis. In fact, I've decided I simply cannot live without a ballroom. I'd keep it clean, I promise.

—Jen