Feb. 22: For realsies, even more + other stuff

My oncologist called this past week and said she and the radiologist decided to biopsy that thing in my throat after all. They’ll be doing an ultrasound-guided biopsy, and I have no idea how that’s different from the one I had in ‘09, which was done with CT, but I’m pretty sure it will hurt and I will not have fun.

The biopsy is scheduled for the afternoon of Wednesday, February 26. I was supposed to meet with the oncologist that day to decide on treatment, but we moved that appointment to Monday, March 3.

I’m thankful that everything suspicious is being checked thoroughly, and I understand that that takes time… but it doesn’t mean I can’t be frustrated that this whole thing is being drawn out even further. Sooo… I hoped to have some news to share on Wednesday, but it’ll be a week from Monday instead. Grrr. Also: pfffftt.

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On the side of the bright, Victor and I are away from home for the weekend. Don’t try to steal crap from our house though—my mom is there with the kids. Tomorrow is our anniversary (17 years!) and we’re celebrating with a little shopping, a movie in a real theater, restaurants, and probably a lot of falling asleep in front of the hotel room TV. In fact, if none of the rest happens, I’d be OK with that. We’re old and tired.

This is the first year that our anniversary happening the same weekend as the elementary school carnival is no big deal, which is all kinds of awesome. The awesome part is that we actually get to celebrate our anniversary ON our anniversary. It actually isn’t awesome (to me) to miss the carnival. I kinda love that carnival. It’s always a butt-load of work for PTO (but not me this year!! YAY!), but is such a fun event. Vic is not even a little bit sad to miss the carnival—as a PTO husband, he was given a lot of grunt work. In fact, I don’t think he misses much about PTO at all.

I’m suddenly kinda mad at him.

But not so mad I’ll go help at the school. Sorry, Wendy.  :)

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Sales at Dear Girl ~ Jewelry with Intention are going really well. I’ve sold quite a bit on etsy, but I’ve had people come to my house and poke around in the warehouse (my hall closet) and buy that way, too. I’m having a lot of fun with the whole thing, and I’m grateful for friends who have pinned my stuff on Pinterest because I’m starting to get sales from people who found me that way. Thank you, thank you, thank you to those of you who have purchased, and for the rest, I hope you’ll take a look at the store. I can do custom orders, too, so let me know if you don’t see something that’s perfect because I will totally make you a perfect thing. I will. I can.

I suggested that part of our anniversary celebration could be a tour of all the bead stores in town and Vic didn’t go for that AT ALL. My next husband will enjoy beads more. And he won’t snore. Or be a mean drunk. Or beat me with sacks of oranges. Or stomp on my dreams.

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Yesterday Mother Mary got to meet Max, her great-grandson. I love to say that she’s a great-grandmother. It makes her sound ancient and that’s fun!

He is just the sweetest little cuddle-bug. I loves ‘im.

Also, look in the background—do you see the liquor cart? I’m sure Erin & Kevin will have to put theirs away when Max starts crawling toward the shot glasses, but our kids are past that age so we’re safe—our kids can just walk right up and drink straight from the bottles. (BEST. PARENTS. EVER.) I am so gonna add this Leave It To Beaver-esque feature to our living room, pronto. Maybe that’ll be our shopping quest for the weekend.

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Pics I’ve been saving to share with you because I loooooove you:

 

Scary how much Google can figure out from what you type in the search box, huh?

 

I think I want this friend:
 

 

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I usually do these little-bit-of-everything posts on Fridays so I can use my shirtless Ponch pic, but this is Saturday, so here’s non-Friday-lovin’ Ponch because I couldn’t bear to upset Fancy Lori™. She likes her Ponch.

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That’s all for now. Laterz.

May 16: Geek. Ing. Out.

I haven’t mentioned Pamela Ribon for a long time, and that’s good because it means she’s probably forgotten about the restraining order that EVERY ONE OF YOU thinks she needs to take out on me. Can’t someone be a super-fan without getting the law involved? Geez.

A bit of review: I read one of Pamela Ribon’s books in 2010; she happened to see my post and left a comment asking if she could send me her other books for reading during chemo. I tried to be all, “Oh, you don’t need to do that…” but, I mean, SHE OFFERED. The next week I received all of her books, autographed to me, and even though I already loved everything about her (yes, mostly her style of writing and sense of humor), I loved her even more because of her very generous and thoughtful gesture. When I heard she was going to do a book reading/signing in the Northwest, I dragged April way up to Bellingham so I could meet Pamela in person. Picture proof of a giddy Jen and nervous Pamie:

Last year she emailed to ask if I could give her some details on surviving cancer treatment—how it made me feel, what people did that was helpful and kind, that sort of thing. She said she was writing a book in which a character was going through chemo and wanted it to be as realistic and honest as possible. I was thrilled to help, of course, and sent her links to a bunch of my posts from 2010—the ones where I raved about how awesome my friends were/are.

So, when you read Pamela Ribon’s latest book, You Take It From Here—and you will want to!—keep in mind that the nice things the cancer-fighting character’s friends do for her? They were inspired by YOU.

And before you put the book down, please turn to the acknowledgements section at the back, because that’s where you’ll see this:

OMG, she means me!!
I think she means me. That is me, right?

Pamela sent me an advance copy of the novel—it comes out July 3 for all you un-acknowledged-in-the-back-of-the-book folk—which I eagerly read and completely loved.

Here’s the publisher’s synopsis of You Take it From Here:

From the author of Why Girls Are Weird comes a poignant, funny tale about two very different best friends—one terminally ill with cancer, and the other determined to do absolutely everything she can to help…

Practical, patient Danielle Meyers escaped her small Southern hometown as quickly as possible, landing herself in sunny Los Angeles as a successful homemaking consultant and recent divorcee. Her bossy, loud, impulsive best friend Smidge stayed behind in Ogden, Louisiana, and has succeeded quite soundly—wife, mother, karaoke superstar, social butterfly, and survivor of cancer. But when Smidge and Danielle reunite for their annual girls’ vacation, Smidge reveals that the cancer is back and terminal, and Danielle vows to do anything to make the last bit of Smidge’s life easier. And Smidge has just one favor that she wants to ask: She needs Danielle to move back to Ogden and take over Smidge’s family after she dies, marrying Henry, and raising Jenny. When the friend you love “the mostest” wants you to make her last wish come true, how do you say no?

Like her other books, there is a very true-to-life balance of hilarity and sadness in You Take it From Here. Her characters are real; they are dear friends who are sometimes assholes to each other. It is a heartwarming AND heartbreaking story about being by a friend’s side as she faces cancer and what will happen after she’s gone. I very highly recommend this book—all of Pamela’s books, not just this one, but also especially this one.

I am soooo geeking out over this little blurb in the back of Pamie’s new book. I cannot even begin to tell you how much.

P.S. I asked Victor which of my friends he wants to marry when I die, and he very smartly refused to answer. I made him promise that it won’t be someone so great that he’ll forget about me or I will haunt him and not in the friendly ghost way. So, he’s pretty much damned whether he speaks up now or waits until I’m gone. Ha! Haunting him and whichever one of you he marries is gonna be awesome.

Mar. 10: More of the same

My last several blog posts have contained very little continuous thoughts of the cohesive variety. You probably haven’t noticed, but I have, and it just seems like that’s how my brain is working these days. My life, really… just lots of little stuff happening. Weird, since I’m usually obsessed with something, it seems.

But not lately. Nope. Just a constant flow of nothingness.

Soooo… here’s some more!

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Here’s Sunshine demonstrating my new hands-free device for my iPhone. Awesome, right? Even though she’s holding it, I still call it “hands-free” because you can totally prop it up on your shoulder and use your hands for typing or making dinner or playing games on your phone while you talk. I love it! I ordered mine from a Groupon special a couple weeks ago, but if you search for “retro handset” you can find lots of others out there. Overstock has the inexpensivest I’ve seen.

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I offer this one without comment.
OK, maybe with apologies to certain people who exceeded their texting allowances this week.

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I read this book last week. You can probably guess what drew me to it—I thought it would be a how-to guide. (hahaha hilare…) The story was amusing/cleverish and not exactly a painful read, but as our PTO treasurer put it, “it’s not going to win a Pulitzer prize.” What bothered me more than anything? The author’s name on the cover in Comic Sans. Ugh.

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We made something similar to these treats in honor of the school’s classified employees this week. I thought they were cute, and they were easy to put together. I actually didn’t find them on Pinterest, but I’m sure they’ve popped up there—such a great resource for teacher gifts, that Pinterest.

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A bunch of the area schools went in lockdown on Thursday morning because of this. It’s hard to believe people are that flippin’ stupid. Gah.

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This Pinterest find is going in the crockpot this morning.

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I’m off to get my hair cut—it’s been months and I’m actually getting shaggy. I found this book that I’m hoping will help me manage the texture of my post-chemo hair, which seems to be here to stay. Argh.

Have a great weekend!

Nov. 8: A list of things

Randomness because my thoughts are anything but incoherent these days:

1. The other night I watched part of that PBS thing in which Will Ferrell got an award. It was pretty funny. They showed clips of his performances over the years, and this particular one made me LOL fo’ realz. Blades of Glory is a stupid movie, but that one part kinda rocks, in that that-did-NOT-just-happen way.
2. I honestly don’t get what the big deal is about pumpkin. Everyone’s raving these days about pumpkin-flavored everything and I’m just so “meh,” because HELL-LOOO, it’s just pumpkin. BFD. You can eat it year-round, people. Sheesh.
3. Oh, but Pumpkin, our hedgehog niece? She’s adorable. (She belongs to Presley.)
4. When I told Vic I finally decided on the accent color for our bedroom, he acted like he didn’t even care. He was all “Um, OK.” Pffft.
5. Jack’s birthday is Sunday, and he’ll be 10 years old. Is it wrong that I’m so happy that he’s that far from baby-ness? I love having kids that are independent. Now if I can just learn ‘em to bring me beer.
6. This SNL sketch cracked me up.
7. Can someone give me a good reason to keep cable TV? Can’t everything be seen online these days anyway? I rarely watch TV on TV anymore; why am I paying for it?
8. Applying for work sure has changed. I’ve been updating my resume, and it’s taking way too much time because I’m finding conflicting advice everywhere I look. I mean, I know you’re not supposed to say you’re “detail-oriented,” a “people person,” or a “team player.” Duh. But some sites say you should always list a career objective and others say you don’t need one. Some say you shouldn’t list anything but work you’ve done in the past ten years, and others say to include everything from your first job on. Cover letters are optional? Whatever. And pink perfumed paper is a no-no? What kind of world are we living in, when a girl can’t make herself stand out from the rest by sending an application drenched in Sweet Honesty? Geez.
9. This Jogathon fundraiser I’ve been blathering about for the past two months? It’s completely over and we reached our goal! We reached our goal AND THEN SOME. Happy, happy Jen. Happy, relieved Jen.
10. Want some Christmas music? You don’t even have to ask; you know I’m good for it. I’ve been looking for new songs for this year’s CD and I’m finding some VERY cool stuff. Not Partridge Family cool, or Bobby Sherman cool, or Carpenters cool, but still cool. Trust me. You’ll find out soon.
11. I was very un-Halloweeny this year. I don’t know why, but I just felt DONE with the holiday before it even began. Normally I tolerate it—it’s one of my least favorite, all that death and gross stuff—but when the kids started talking about their costumes a couple months ago, I even tried to convince them they were too old to trick-or-treat. Mean momma, right? They both looked at online costume shops and came to the decision—ON THEIR OWN, I can’t emphasize that enough—that they’d make their costumes. Katie went as a ninja and Jack as a football player. I could not have been more proud of them. I don’t dare hope that they’ll do the same next year, do I?
12. Of course, there are times when costumes end up looking so fab that they’re worth however much effort it might have taken. Do I have an example? You bet I do! Here’s what my friend Stephanie and her husband did this year:

The ‘fros are just… killer, man.

I close this nonsense with recent Pinterest finds. You will love them because you have a twisted sense of humor like I do, you sicko.

 

 

 

(I love what’s in her lunch bag)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later, doods.

Mar. 4: Happy birthday, Dad

I loved my dad oh-so-much, but he had moments of not-niceness. He made fun of fat people when he himself was far from svelte. He was mean to service people; he always talked down to them, and undoubtedly ate more than a few spit-laced meals during his life. Really, he was mean to anyone he thought was “beneath” him. It was embarrassing.

And stubborn? Oh my word, the guy was so stubborn. So opinionated and so stubborn. Having a conversation was sometimes impossible and sometimes very un-fun. It was a mistake to bring up politics in his presence. As soon as I realized my political views had veered far from his, I tried to avoid the topic.

But Dad had admirable qualities too. He absolutely adored his grandchildren. Extended family members told us he never shut up about how proud he was of his own kids. He took pride in his home and was usually neatly dressed. For years, he wore a shirt and tie to wash his car and dress shoes to mow the lawn—no joke; we have photo evidence. He got haircuts faithfully every four weeks. I remember visiting him in the hospital a couple years before he died and he had gone several days without shaving—I thought he looked homeless! I don’t think I’d ever seen Dad with a day’s growth of beard.

My dad was incredibly clumsy. He didn’t have an awkward look to him—he wasn’t always tripping or running into things like a doofus—but if an accident could occur while he was doing something, it would. One day he was installing a shelf above a windowsill for the cat to sleep on, and he lost his grip and the heavy shelf fell right into his forehead. He had a gash and huge bruise for weeks. He broke his elbow twice doing I don’t remember what. He was like Michael Jackson with tape on his fingers—always, always, always. The Harrison Ford-like scar on his chin, which he told us he got in the war, was actually from when he fell on a coffee can as a kid.

Dad’s hands were callused because he worked hard his whole life, though for the last 15 years he was all white-collar. He was thorough and reliable and smart—a sales manager’s dream employee. He didn’t believe in calling in sick to work. My 9th-grade home ec teacher went on and on one day about how men are such babies when they’re sick, and I had no idea what she was talking about because Dad was never like that.

If he knew a little bit about a subject, he’d make it sound like he knew everything about it. He could B.S. like nobody else I knew. We were adults before we ever figured out how full of it Dad was. When Jack starts making up stories, we tell him how proud Grandpa Curt would be to hear his grandson becoming a bullshit artist like himself. Dad also had an amazing way of making people laugh—sometimes at him—and his sense of humor was endearing. Besides his big hugs, I think I miss his laugh the most.

Today Vic and I were on our way to lunch when I started talking about what a butthead my dad could be. I supported my statement with many examples (I didn’t even have to think very hard) and he agreed that Dad was full of contradictions. I said, “It’s a good thing I turned out nothing like him.”

Silence.

Then Vic smiled.

“Tell me how Dad and I are different, Vic.”

(I didn’t say that in a demanding voice at all.)

He smiled a little bigger. “You’re a girl,” he said.

“Yes?”

“And… um…”

I waited. He said nothing. Not real words, anyway.

“Um…” He started to turn a little red.

“Just shut up. Just shut up right now.”

Today Dad would have been 69 years old. I am more like him than I want to admit or my husband dares say. I like to think I inherited just his good traits, but I know I got some of that rotten stuff too. Now you have more sympathy for Vic than ever, huh?

Aug. 13: 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.

• This was a busy week. I’m glad it’s almost over. Tomorrow should be some nice relaxing with lovely friends and icy beverages, and I’m oh-so-happy about that.
• Victor changed his anniversary on Facebook a few weeks ago—he took off the year. I got a notification, since it’s my anniversary too. No big deal. This last week he removed our anniversary date completely, and I was notified again. I said, “Y’know, I get a message whenever you fark with our anniversary on Facebook. If you don’t want to be married to me, there are other ways to let me know.” He didn’t realize his changes affected my profile too, and said he was just trying not to have too much info out there. But if you know me, you know I didn’t let it stop there. I continued to bother him about it until he put our anniversary back on FB. I don’t even care if our anniversary date is on FB, but it sure is fun messin’ with Victor. I haven’t stopped. “He shall pay” is pretty much my motto.
• Sunshine shared this video on FB, and I’m sharing it here because I loved it.

• I was hating computers yesterday, when mine was giving me all kinds of grief. At first it was just Access being difficult, and that’s a problem because most of my work is in Access. When I tried to find the problem and repair it, the whole system crashed and I thought I might too. It was a panicky few hours. I got everything running again, thank goodness. I mention this because it’s part of the reason I’m so glad the week is nearly over.
• Words with Friends on the iPhone/iPod Touch/iPad: it’s the funnest. I’m JenSM and will totally play a game with you.
• My niece/friend, Erin, was spotted on House Hunters! The episode’s interesting because it’s set in Portland, but the really good part—where you’ll see Erin—is in the very last minute.

• The class historian from PAA’s Class of 1986 called me yesterday—apparently she needs to plan our 25th reunion, which is coming up next year. One of the unfortunate things about being good at keeping FBI files on your classmates is that people call you and ask you for them, and they figure while they have you on the phone they’ll ask you to be on the reunion committee. BUT, the class historian is my dear friend Lisa… so do I mind? Not. One. Bit. I love that girl!   And unlike many people, I love my reunions. I’m in!
• This thing gave me the giggles:

• Jack finished swimming lessons yesterday. He didn’t pass. I felt so bad for him—he has such a hard time putting his face in the water for more than a couple strokes. I still haven’t decided if we should make him try again in the next session (which starts Monday) or wait until next summer. More than anything, I don’t want him to be That Tall Kid Who Can’t Swim Because His Mom Gave Up On Taking Him To Lessons That Weren’t Doing Any Good Anyway.
• So, um… this is a book and… well, it exists:

• ‘Member how I started doing that 31 Days to to Build a Better Blog thing a couple weeks ago? I didn’t drop it, I didn’t. There were some exercises that were best done off-blog, and it kinda got me out of the habit, and then I got busy and then I didn’t feel like it and I’ll catch up, I promise I will. Maybe.
• Victor and I went to a wedding last weekend and someone took this picture of us. I like it because I actually look like a normal, not-having-cancer person in it:

Amazing what some eye makeup and a wig can do.

• The dandruff shampoo doesn’t seem to be working so well yet. I haven’t given up though. What would giving up on dandruff shampoo be, exactly? Shaving my head bald again? Or just living with the flakes? Don’t know. But I’m still using it, and I’m still doing everything I can to fix this problem. In the mean time, feel free not to ask me about it.
• That’s enough for now. Have a fabulous weekend!