Oct. 23: Hey! Hands off the magnificent rack!

There’s a salon near me that I love to go to for pedicures—it’s huge, appointments are almost never necessary, and someone always offers me booze. Yay! I also go to this salon for brow waxes. Although I usually have the same aesthetician, today’s was a different one. I think she might have been new. Most of the employees don’t speak much English, so it’s not like I chit-chat with them, but this one wasn’t that I’ve-seen-you-before kind of friendly.

No, she was a different kind of friendly altogether.

She started out like all of them, spreading the wax along my lower left brow. But this girl, just before she rips the wax off, puts her hand on my boob. I’m a little startled, but then I feel all this unforgiving pain in my forehead and forget I’d just been groped. I feel her line my upper left brow with wax and, again, she puts her hand on my boob before ripping. I open my eyes to see if my glasses, which I’d rested on my chest, have slipped. Maybe she was moving them back?

Nope. My glasses are right where I’d left them.

It is nothing less than super-weird. But it has to be an accident, I think. Right? I mean, she does see that I have boobs, doesn’t she? And that her hands are very near them?

She starts in on my right brow and it’s the same routine: wax, fabric strip, feel me up, rip. Wow—I thought the pedicure chairs got up close and personal! This is just all kinds of crazy, or as Jack says Dina would say, IT’S TOTES CRAY-CRAY. (Jack makes Dina sound like a dork.)

What’s going on, then? Does this poor girl just need leverage? It’s not like I was overdue for a brow wax and it was extra-hard work or anything. Maybe she has terrible depth perception? But no, she shapes my brows beautifully; vision does not appear to be a problem for her. Is she new at this and figuring out what’s appropriate? Was she taught to give full-service procedures? If so, what the hell kind of perv beauty school did she go to back in her home country???

I leave feeling bewildered and violated, albeit with two perfect brows. What’s worse is that, in my confusion, I think I tipped Caligula-san too much. I’ll find out in another three weeks if she read anything into that.

Jan. 6: A view to kill for?

I’ve written about our neighbors before. You remember. The ones who chop wood? The ones who played one song on repeat in their backyard all summer? They’ve lived behind us almost as long as we’ve lived here and I used to think they were normal. I’m not so sure anymore. This recently popped up in their yard:

According to a conversation Victor had with one of them, it’s an attempt at creating a wind thingie to power their hot tub. It’s shown up in different forms over the past couple years, as though they’re experimenting with materials that will be durable and weather-proof so that it actually generates power. This most recent version is possibly the ugliest, but it seems to be the one on which they’ve landed.

It spins, I’ll give it that, but the only thing it seems to generate is mildew.

Yes, all that black gunk is mildew.

The tree-hugger in me wants to appreciate this green form of energy. I do. But when I look out any of the back windows in our house, this abomination is big as can be, and I really wish these weirdoes would just plug the hot tub into the friggin’ exterior outlet.

And use headphones.

And, if karma really exists, maybe get electrocuted by them.

Jan. 20: In lieu of a planned post

On my way home from work this afternoon I thought of about 15 things I needed to blog about. Can I remember even ONE of them now? No. And I guarantee you, every single one of the things I thought of was either hilarious or profound. Some were both. It’s true. And now I’m all empty-like in my head. But guess what? I’m not gonna let that stop me, no sirreee! Here, in no particular order, are some of the things I’ve thought about this past week.

Those super-bright bluish headlights? I hate them. They even make me mad sometimes. I do not know why. I beg of you, please don’t have them or get them or I’ll be mad some more.

Jack got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday and it’s pretty cool. I didn’t realize how cool, though, until I was over at Val’s this weekend. They have four Nerf dart guns, and the whole family gets into it. The darts fa-LY. Y’know that old saying: the family that shoots Nerf dart guns together, roots serf tart buns together. The Fukais are that family. We shall be that family too.

I am not drunk. I’m not.

If I could only watch one TV show for the rest of my life, I’d wish for more wishes because I could never decide on just one.

One thing I hate about working a full day is how tired I am at the end. But the thing I love about that full day not ending until 6pm is how much lighter the traffic is all the way home. Also, the paycheck.

I need glasses, dammit. My vision is all wonky and unpredictable; it goes from being fine to horrible—like OMG-I-think-Stevie-Wonder-just-sideswiped-me-on-the-freeway horrible—to so-so and back to fine. I really shouldn’t be driving. Worse yet, I’ve become that person who asks random people, “Can I try on your glasses?” I hate that person. I’ve already had LASIK twice—shouldn’t my vision be better than this? I sooo do not want to smell my scorching corneas again.

We’re doing Poker Night at Jim & Tina’s this weekend, possibly tournament-style! I don’t really care how we play, because my favorite part of Poker Night has very little to do with the cards. If I could win just one hand, though, that’d be rockin’ awesome. Just one.

Stanford’s went and changed their Henry’s Beer Cheese Soup day to Wednesdays, but Wendy and I didn’t know that when we went on Tuesday specifically to have the Henry’s Beer Cheese Soup. How dare they change their menu four months ago! We’ll go in NEXT Wednesday, then. Pfft.

G’night.

Jan. 3: In the fully-clothed kitchen

Did you have the Maurice Sendak book, In the Night Kitchen, when you were a kid? I didn’t; my best friend did. He had Where the Wild Things Are, too, but that one was scary to me. In the Night Kitchen was cute and funny and I liked it much better. One of the most memorable things about that book is that the little boy is naked on several pages, which is probably just about every kid’s most prominent memory of that book, I’m sure.

I remember us pointing and giggling at his naked parts every time we read the story, which was often. I didn’t have any picture books with nudity, and here was one with a naked kid on more than one page! How cool was that?

Maurice Sendak’s books, and that one in particular, have held a special place in my book-loving heart for as long as I can remember. Imagine my delight when, in 1999, I found an entire section of a San Francisco shopping center that was Maurice Sendak-themed. The Metreon was brand new and had a play area and restaurant that brought lots of those childhood memories back. I was pregnant with Katie at the time, and I bought several of Sendak’s picture books in the gift shop—I wanted our kids to enjoy some of the same stories I once had. I took bunches of photos that day and I have no idea where they are or I’d scan them to share. It was really a cute attraction. Here is the first in a series of videos someone posted on YouTube. (The Metreon has since been converted into a boring mall; according to this Wikipedia page, all the Sendak stuff is gone. Bummer.)

When I worked the book fair at the kids’ school this past fall, I picked In the Night Kitchen off the shelf and was shocked at what I found—so shocked, in fact, that I had to take pictures. Mickey had underpants!

This is the unedited version:

 

I took more pictures…

 

 

Mickey got all covered up, thanks to a Sharpie. I don’t know if these unders were courtesy of the librarian, a concerned parent, or a nerdy kid who thought Mickey’s free-swingin’, free-wheelin’ attitude was too much for his classmates. But I’ll be honest—it bugged me a little to see this book censored. It’s innocent; why’d they have to “fix” it? I searched the ‘net for “Maurice Sendak censorship” and found that this happens frequently. I also found out about some subtle and not-so-subtle messages in his stories, not unlike Dr. Seuss’s books (this is just one of many reasons I still find children’s literature so fascinating, naked kids or no).

Looking back, I don’t know if it was a conscious choice of my parents that I didn’t have my own copy of In the Night Kitchen, but if they were trying to protect me I think this is the right time to tell the world that my mom gave Jack a book for Christmas called The Day My Butt Went Psycho.

I’m just sayin’.

Dec. 24: 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.

• Hey! It’s Christmas Eve! I love today.
• Today my iPod has been playing everything from the “Christmas” genre on shuffle. I have a lot of Christmas music—I don’t know if I realized exactly how much until I put it on shuffle—and I’m actually getting a little tired of it. I’m also remembering why there are a lot of songs I’ve collected but opted to leave OFF our annual CD compilations because there is some really bad Christmas music out there, and it starts and ends with Mariah Carey. Pretty sure. 
• Have you elfed yourself yet this year?
• Big bummer: we had to cancel Poker Night last night because one of the Chris boys couldn’t make it. It would’ve been weird with just one Chris, right? Yes. We’ll try again for some evening next week, with a new invitation or two extended (ahem, Fancy™ Family, we’ve got our eyes on you…). We’re excited to use the way-cool poker set Val and Chris gave us for Christmas—how card shark-y do we look now? We are totally gonna fool people into being a-scared of our mad poker-playing skillz.
• Speaking of Fancy anyone, Fancy Lori™ is incredibly skilled in the knitting arena. If any part of you is cold, she can whip up something that’ll warm you up right quick. Pretty sure. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
• Ugh. I am completely addicted to Pictureka. Dammit! I love the iPhone app, and after playing the board game at Sunshine’s last night, I love that too. And I just found out they have a Disney edition and OMG I have to have it! If I don’t post for a few weeks, just assume that I got Disney Pictureka and have no time to do anything else. And remember that once upon a time I was sane(-ish). That game’ll make you ca-razy.
• This song makes me happy:

I keep trying to comb Pat’s hair but he won’t stop moving.

• Here’s another Christmas song that I’m enjoying this year. Thanks for sharing, Sherilee!

Brrrr.

• I heard that I went caroling the other night. News to me!
• It’s not just me, is it? You’ve got excessively dry skin and static in your hair and clothes too, right? It’s always a little strange when that happens around here, because it’s usually humid enough that we don’t shock every single thing we touch. Apparently it’s not so humid right now. I do not love it.
• What Santa really does when you’re asleep. Now you know.
• Sunshine got me a super-cute “you-know-me-so-well” gift for Christmas. This photo doesn’t do it justice, but it gives you an idea of how awesome this necklace is:
  
  
  The copper disc says “weapon of choice” and the charm is a typewriter. Perfect, right??? It also has me thinking two things: (1) I’m going to start making more jewelry with copper, and (2) I want to try metal stamping. I mean, have you seen the awesome metal stamped stuff on etsy? I could totally do that.
• (I actually am not all that confident I could do metal stamping very well. But I could invest hundreds of dollars and lots of energy in it and try and fail and shove all the tools in my “depressing attempts” closet. Yup. I could totally do that.)
• On the opposite end of the spectrum from the loveliness that is Sunshine, here is a woman I very much want to punch in the face, hard and repeatedly. You don’t even have to watch the whole thing before I’m pretty sure you’ll want to slug her too:

She may be a hand model, but she’s no George Costanza (pre-iron burn)

• We’re going to a wedding tomorrow! April’s mom is getting married to a man she re-connected with on Facebook last year. I’m so happy for them—what an exciting thing.
• Which reminds me, why isn’t anyone asking me to perform their wedding ceremonies? I’m thinking maybe it’s time for me to take this personally. I mean, first Kim F’n gets all engaged and asks HER DAD to do her vows, and then my friend’s mom gets engaged and (probably) asks her church pastor to officiate. Why do all the people I know use the excuse that they already know someone who they want doing their wedding? Maybe I need more friends who don’t go to church or know people who go to church. People who aren’t allowed near the holy water. People like me.
• Alright, we’ve got 13 people sitting at our table for dinner tonight, so I’d best get busy preparing. In case I don’t get around to posting tomorrow, please accept very big and most sincere happy holiday wishes from this branch of the Manullang family!

Dec. 12: Sunday fun

I didn’t do my Friday post, and I didn’t make up for it yesterday with a Saturday post. I’m just not doing my blogging job very well right now. I’ve hardly spent any time on my computer over the past few days—too much holiday stuff to get done. I’m not complaining about being too busy, though, because right now everything is still Christmas-y and joyful and fun and until I get overwhelmed and whiny, you might just not find a lot to read here at Stuff Jen Says. How ‘bout this? I’m going to share some of the good stuff I’ve found on the ‘net in the past few weeks.

• If you’re not anti-hilarious-cartoon Loveliest Lori, you’ll enjoy this 3-D Perry the Platypus Christmas ornament. (I love you dearly, Lori, but you really should give Phineas & Ferb a chance.)
• Suspected terrorists vs. the average person. This made me chuckle.
• Not sure what to get for the man on your Christmas list? Here are some ideas that won’t help you even a tiny bit.
• See that box on the left that says “Twitters that made me LOL”? You should scroll through and read some of them beauties. There are some very funny people saying very funny things out there on Twitter.
• Sunshine shared this and I love it:

He’s charming as can be, no?

• This isn’t funny or even all that interesting, but I love the new engagement photos of Prince William and Kate. His natural smile is so much like his momma’s.
• New York designers say these are the colors for the upcoming season. Who knew? (And Erin, I can’t believe you “swoon” over any one of them. They’re colors. Silly girl.)
• One of the reasons I dislike Céline Dion is that this parody is remarkably accurate in the way she behaves in interviews (here’s a short example of the real thing). Tracey Ullman is one of the most underrated actresses out there. For a real kick, watch some of her other videos on YouTube. So funny.

ha.

• We went to IKEA the other day, and I found the Christmas décor there kind of disappointing. A lot of it looks like 4th of July décor to me, which I think is weird because Scandinavians don’t celebrate the 4th of July like we do, right? They have some fun star ornaments, and I love their strings of lights, but there’s an awful lot of blue in most of their SNÖVITA line. Meh.
• Some people bug the hell out of me.
• (Wow, how’d that sneak in there? That has nothing to do with stuff I’ve found on the Internet at all. Hm.)
• Our niece, Presley, got a new kitty! She might just be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Meet Cookie:

• Sunshine told me there’s all this fancy wish list stuff on Etsy now, and you can see what your friends want and they can see what you want and OMG I can’t imagine what could be better except maybe if y’all buy me everything on my list twice.
• I was thinking that the new Jack Black/Jason Segel Christmas Jam would be a good last-minute addition to our Christmas CD, so I downloaded it and was all happy until I realized the mp3 has the same content as the video. In other words, there’s talking on the song, and I hate when people talk on songs. Bummer.
• Did you see Community this last week? Clever.

I’ve got a CD to finish, letter to edit, labels to print, gifts to make, soup on the stove, a HUGE etsy wish list to create, and an ornament exchange party to go to this evening. T’will be a good day.

Oct. 4: Daybook

Today…

Outside my window... the sky is blue and bright with just a few clouds. Very pretty right now, especially with the trees changing color all around. I mean, if fall has to happen, it’s not so bad when the sun is shining. There are maple trees all along the streets in our neighborhood, and they all seem to be just a bit different variety, so they change colors at different times. It makes it quite beautiful.

This weekend, I… spent too much time on PTO things. Saturday night we went to Five Guys for dinner. I had never been there before. Except for the weird cheese they use on their burgers, I thought they were pretty good. The fries were so-so. I spent a lot of yesterday reading a book, in between PTO projects.

I am thinking... that this week will be busy and fun. Bun. Or fizzy. I like “fizzy.” Even though it should probably be spelled “fusy.” Which reminds me of a name I saw on a class roster at school that was spelled something like Yclqapdemrtz, and the teacher had written in parentheses, “(pronounced ‘Heidi.’)” People these days. Somebody should let me kill people for naming their kids shit like that.

I am thankful... that I am my husband’s only wife. I watched the first episode of Sister Wives yesterday and OMG, that lifestyle is odd. It appears to be nothing but a big ol’ ball of fun to these folks; they don’t seem to be following a church doctrine or doing it for Biblical reasons. Maybe more of that will be featured in other episodes. Whatever. I can’t get over the ego on that guy.

I am working on... the T-shirts for the upcoming Jogathon, a flyer for tomorrow, newsletter items, and finishing up the book I started reading yesterday.

I am going... to have surgery on Thursday. I’m getting my port! I check in at 12:30, am supposed to go into surgery at 2:30, and should be home by evening.

I am reading... a book, as well as the magazine I accidentally took from the doctor’s office today. Oops. Heh heh.

I am hoping... that the sore throat I started getting yesterday does NOT turn into a full-blown sickness. I’m suddenly wishing I’d paid more attention to all of Sherilee’s Emergen-C and and Airborne treatments when she’s warded off these things, because they always seem to work for her.

I am hearing... a lot of peace and quiet. It’s lovely. Katie and Jack are spending the night at Grandpa and Grandma’s, and Vic just left with Jack for football practice. I’m going to read for a while.

Around the house... I’ve got some cleaning to do. Sheila R is coming for a visit next week. Sheila, if I meet you at the front door with a hotel room key, it’s because I never got around to the cleaning. And please let me come with you.

One of my favorite things... is when I order regular fries at Burgerville but find a few sweet potato fries mixed in. BONUS. Those things are yum-mee.

Plans for the rest of the week: school, school, and more school. School district meeting tomorrow night. Wednesday is Donuts with Dad at the school—I love this event! Surgery Thursday. Victor’s going to a family wedding in California on Friday, and Mother Mary is coming for a few days starting Saturday.

Here’s an image I want to share:

This is the kind of polygamy for me. And no, I don’t care if they’re all gay. 

One more thing: I went topless today! It was my first time going out in public without a hat or scarf in almost ten months. It felt weird, but in a good way; I loved feeling the wind on my head but I also felt a little naked. Pretty sure I can get used to it, though.

“We'll be fine, thank you! See ya! Hope you don't get gonorrhea!”

Want to blog your own Daybook? Here’s the info: The Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Jun. 21: Too. Many. Options!

I just spent two hours trying to book a hotel in Seattle for this weekend. I did the same thing yesterday. There are plenty of rooms available in the city; that’s not the problem. The problem is that I’m so friggin’ worried that I’ll choose a hotel with some particular feature that will make us unhappy, that I can’t make a decision.

Just when I think I’ve found the perfect place, I realize something important is missing, like nearby parking or an in-room coffeemaker or an address in a safe location. I keep looking. Then I’m sure I’ve seen the NEXT hotel that looks perfect for a much lower rate somewhere else, so I re-open all the other travel sites I’ve already looked at and try to find it. And I can’t. I start over, and I find the perfect place AGAIN. I’m ready to book it but happen upon a customer review about someone finding human feces on the wall of their room. So that one is off the list, and I look for another, and the further I get from the city, the cheaper they are and the oh-so-much scarier they are. Also, I am lost by then—literally and figuratively. I give up and start over again.

My jaw is clenching. My blood pressure is rising. Am I giving this way more thought than I should? Yes. Am I stressing for no good reason at all? Most definitely. Am I the most indecisive person EVER? L’il bit.

Because how hard does it have to be to find a bed on which to lay one’s head? Not hard at all! Unless you’re me.

Did you know there’s actually a site called CouchSurfing, where you can find a couch in someone’s house to crash on? Are we in college? No, we’re just cheap-asses. Victor asked, “Who would do that? And who would want some stranger sleeping on their couch?” I know who. My mom married him when I was 14. I have a feeling everyone who’s listed their couch as available is either a total creep, a rapist lookin’ for some fun, or a serial killer. Possibly all of the above. CouchSurfing’s slogan is “Participate in Creating a Better World, One Couch At A Time.” It could just as easily be “Participate in Being Easy Prey for a Criminal, One Couch at a Time.” Yikes-a-hootie.

I will not be CouchSurfing in Seattle, that is one thing on which I can decide. We’re not desperate for a place to stay, nor are we even a little bit interested in being someone’s victims for the weekend. So, um, yippee for me! I’ve crossed something off my list that wasn’t even there when I started this whole process.

I’m like this every time I start to make any kind of travel arrangements. It takes me forever to weigh through my options and I’m a complete basket case by the end. But I almost never regret the choice I end up making, so there’s that.

Still, it kinda makes me hate me for being me.

Wish me luck.

Jun. 14: Brusha brusha brusha

I brush my teeth in the shower. Sometimes if the subject comes up, people tell me that’s weird, brushing one’s teeth in the shower. I’ve done it ever since I moved out of the dorm 20 years ago, so I don’t think it’s weird anymore. My dad—who never thought he had a bad idea in his life—said it saved time, and I believed him. I still do.

What sucks is when I’m away from home and forget to take my toothbrush into the shower with me and then forget to brush my teeth altogether. I’m a total tooth-brusher; forgetting to brush my teeth is like forgetting to get dressed. And yet, it happens. Not often, but often enough that I realize I should not break my habit of brushing my teeth in the shower because that means it will get done and if that’s what it takes to get the job done, who am I to change the system?

(Did I just say two things two times in that sentence? Did I? I think I did.)

I keep a toothbrush near the bathroom sink, too, in case I need to brush my teeth without showering. Like, y’know, most nights. And Saturdays. And sometimes Sundays. Occasionally Mondays.

Why am I telling you this? Knowing that I brush my teeth in the shower is important as I share the following story.

I started using a new toothbrush recently, one with a dentist’s name printed on it. This particular dentist is my friend’s husband. I haven’t seen him as a patient, but since I’m ready for a new dentist, I’ve been thinking about going to him, even though his office isn’t nearby. Every time I think “I need to find a new dentist,” I think about all the things that go with it: making sure our insurance covers that dentist, making that first appointment in which I have to fill out so many forms, lying to the hygienist about how often I floss, making sure I’m whisker-free before each appointment. Y’know, the usual. It’s a lot to consider. That’s why I’ve been putting off the task.

But here’s the thing. Every morning since I started using that new toothbrush, these thoughts go through my head, and in this case, they’re all because I see Dr. Friend’s Husband’s name on my toothbrush. So as I think those thoughts, I picture Dr. Friend’s Husband as that new dentist. And y’know how when you’ve first wakened and your thoughts are kinda slow and foggy and suddenly you realize you’ve been thinking about one thing for ten minutes?

It is a very odd thing to think about a friend’s husband while showering.

It is a very odd thing to think about a friend’s husband while showering EVERY MORNING.

I do believe that it’s time to switch out my toothbrush for one without my friend’s husband’s name on it, or stop brushing my teeth in the shower… and risk forgetting to brush my teeth altogether.

Jun. 2: Oh, the gumminess

It’s all gummy, all the time ‘round here these days. It started with the cocktails Debi made in the hotel room the other night, which consisted of nothing gummy but somehow tasted gummy-licious. Then Deanna emailed me these little goodies (all the photos link to the sites in which they were found):

Who wouldn’t want a gummy bear chandelier? Can’t you just see this hanging in a museum somewhere? Or my house, where it wouldn’t last very long because I would eat that thing so fast?

I think I have to have this too, but I wouldn’t eat it. Well, maybe a little. Like, the ears look nibble-y. But the nails creep me out a little. I guess they could be used as toothpicks after a gummy meal.

That was kinda gross, what I just wrote. I’m sorry.

I like this chandelier even better than the first, but it’s made of acrylic gummy bears and where’s the fun in that? Not to mention the rotten sugar stink and the fruit flies? But this would last longer hanging in my house. I can’t promise there wouldn’t be a few bite marks here and there, though—I’d probably have to make sure they weren’t real gummy bears. I’d probably have to make sure several times, in several places.

These lamps are cute, but they’re obviously not real gummy bears and that means I can promise I wouldn’t try to eat them.

Because everyone wants to have gummy bear jewelry, right?

Speaking of wearing gummy bears, one of my favorite episodes of The Simpsons is when the babysitter sits on Homer’s gummy Venus de Milo and when he picks it off her, she thinks he’s trying to grab her butt and accuses him of sexual harassment. Here’s a link to a blog in which an artist made tiny little gummy Venus de Milos! How cool are those?

Finally, there are a multitude of recipes out there for gummy bear-flavored beverages. I can honestly say I’d never searched for such a thing until I tried Debi’s creation last weekend, and I was surprised to see all the variations people recommend. One of my favorites isn’t so much a beverage as a charming little snack—vodka-soaked gummy bears. I’ve got some soaking right now, and will be posting the results in a few days when they’re complete, unless they turn out so delicious that I’m so drunk I can’t type. Ha → me on a vodka-soaked gummy bear bender.

Last night Jack asked if he could eat some of the bears and, of course, we said no. He argued that he occasionally has caffeine so what’s the big deal? Time for a little alcohol education, I think. And I’ll be keeping a close eye on my vodka bears now, too. DO NOT TOUCH MY VODKA BEARS!

Apr. 18: Pardon me

There are days when life with cancer feels like way too much to handle, when the tears come easily and the weight on my chest feels almost unbearable. I grasp any kind of diversion, any way I can avoid letting the defeat wash over me. I busy myself with tiny tasks but make them time-consuming and pretend they’re vitally important. Does this help? No. But it’s a distraction, and distractions are good because they distract. And that’s how all the bathrooms got cleaned so thoroughly last week.

When I do let the feeling wash over me, it is as overwhelming as you might imagine. Letting my mind go to “that dark place” is so dangerous, and yet I think it’s far better to face it (occasionally) than to completely avoid it. What will happen if the chemo doesn’t work? You can guess the many questions that follow that one. None of them come with answers that make me happy.

There’s no denying that cancer sucks, and in so many ways. One of the things I hate about having cancer—or maybe not so much the cancer as the side effects of my medications—is that I have become so emotional. It’s not just the crying-over-anything-all-the-time thing; it’s a pain-deep-in-my-soul sensitivity. Itty-bitty things hurt me in ways they never would have before. 

Like yesterday? When the dog wouldn’t come to me when I called? I thought I’d collapse in despair. THAT’S the level of un-reason I’m dealing with, people. It makes no sense, but it’s my reality.

I sometimes feel like I’ve lost the ability to see things from someone else’s point of view. That’s what I hate about self-centered people I’ve known, when they don’t seem to have any idea how unreasonable their expectations of others can be… and here I am, leaning toward that same self-centeredness. Some people say I have a good excuse for that right now, that cancer is so life-altering that it’s unfair for others to expect me to be the same person I’ve always been. And I’m OK with letting this experience change me, but I don’t LOVE the idea of it changing me into a big whiny weenie.

Pretty please be patient with me.