My friend Deanna G—not my cousin Deanna G; they are two different but rockin’ awesome girls—sent me a link to this blog the other day. The image below goes with recent research that the 5-second rule could be changed to the 30-second rule. I like it because it takes the possibility of bacon into consideration.
By the way, SF Foodie is a pretty great blog featuring San Francisco restaurants and a lot of other cool food-related things. It’s a must-consult if you’re planning a visit.
You probably saw this OK Go video a while back when everyone was raving about it—with good reason, as these guys are nothing if not coordinated. Here’s a reminder.
Their latest video is the same type of thing, all done in one shot. Amazing when you think of all the planning this involves. I think if I were in either of these videos, by the time we finally got the good shot I’d never want to hear the song again FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.
Is it just me, or do you wish you were a band geek after watching this video?
Most searches from the past 30 days are on my name or “stuff jen says” or variations thereof. But these are head-scratchers:
The report also shows that 76 percent of the visitors to stuff jen says in the last 30 days stayed for 0-10 seconds. Most stay between 181-600 seconds. A very few stay for more than 1,801 seconds. What, I’m boring? I don’t entertain you? You think you’ll find something more interesting somewhere else? GOOD. LUCK. PAL.
On the other hand, I have very loyal visitors. Most of them who are repeat visitors have come back more than nine times, and some over 200 times (thanks, Mom!). They come from 70 different countries, most of them the United States. The highest percentage of U.S. visitors are from Oregon, of course, and I’ve had people stop by from a total of 52 states. Yes, 52—Washington, D.C. and “unknown” were the extries.
Looking at visitor statistics for the past year, I see that the numbers spiked on November 30 and have continued to stay high since. Hm, wonder why? Oh yes, my cancer diagnosis. Wow, if I’d known I’d get that many more readers I could’ve made up a life-threatening disease years ago! Or I could’ve put more effort into making my blog interesting to read. Yes, that might also have worked.
Today’s Plinky prompt is kinda ridiculous:
Write a (very) short story without using the letter 'L.'
Harder than it...uh...appears, huh?
I tried it, though, and it wasn’t as hard as I expected (that’s what she said). This particular stupid story was inspired, in part, by someone I know who’s waiting to hear the grade she got on her kid’s science project—this lovely person shall remain nameless to protect the naughty, naughty parent.
It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and after Tucker begged and begged, the boy decided he was ready to take Tucker to the dog park. Untethered and within the park fences, Tucker ran free. The bigger dogs scared him, but he tried to stay away from them. He stuck to the kiddie areas, where the timid dogs hung out, shivering and pretending the dog park was awesome. Some dogs are idiots.
After an hour, the boy said it was time to go. Tucker was a very sad dog, for in the time he’d been at the park that morning he’d met Daisy, another tiny dog, and they’d gotten dog-married. They had even gone behind the tree and kissed. Daisy’s owner didn’t see, and Tucker’s owner didn’t see, and both dogs hoped they might keep their adoration for each other a secret for fear they’d not be permitted to meet again.
Nothing was going to wipe the grin off Tucker’s snout that day. He was infatuated with Daisy! She was a charming Pomeranian with the perkiest ears Tucker had ever seen. He knew they’d be together forever.
But on the way out of the park, the boy ran into Daisy’s owner and she accused Tucker of being inappropriate with Daisy. So she had seen them behind the tree! “Duh!” Tucker thought, “Of course I was inappropriate! She’s my wife!” The boy didn’t know what to say. He was pretty sure she was wrong, but promised to keep Tucker away from Daisy in the future.
At first it seemed they were doomed, but Tucker and Daisy did not despair. They knew their devotion to each other was strong enough to survive their owners. They arranged to get together every night after their owners were in bed and carry on their friendship.
So they did. Every night they met on a corner in their neighborhood, where they embraced under the shimmering moonbeams. No one ever knew; not the boy or Daisy’s meanie of an owner. They were the envy of dog pairings everywhere.
One night a coyote attacked and ate them. The end.
That’s 465 words. Yes, it’s true: I can rock when I try to avoid the “L,” with minimal thesaurus-al help, even though the results are hardly worth publishing. I am soooo adding this special skill to my résumé.
I called my oncologist’s office and explained my pain to the nurse; she was surprised. She kept asking, “And it’s all over? Not just your back?” That kinda freaked me out. I mean, I thought this all-over ouchiness is pretty normal for someone being treated for lymphoma. I asked if there was anything I could take for the pain, or if there was something I definitely shouldn’t take (chemo patients are encouraged not to take pain relievers because they could mask a fever which could mask an infection). A few phone calls back and forth later, the nurse was able to tell me that apparently this level of pain is not normal, but also not of great concern. Dr. O doesn’t want me to stress over it, and said to go ahead and take Vicodin for a few days until the pain is more tolerable.
Here I was so proud for weaning myself off the Vike over the past couple weeks and now I’m going to be praising its holy generic name again. Pffft.
But I don’t care. I’m so glad I called to ask about this, and that I don’t have to suffer (quite so much) through this second week after chemo. Within 20 minutes of taking a couple Vicodin this afternoon, I felt better. That made Katie’s birthday party dinner at Grandma & Grandpa’s much more pleasant for me than it would’ve been otherwise.
And it’s all about me, right?
Today makes ten years since I first became a mom. Katie’s tha-rilled to be an entire decade old, and I’m kinda wondering how the time flew by because it seems like not very long ago we brought that little baby home. Seriously, how could that have been ten years ago?
As Katie’s first birthday approached, I knew I wanted to have a big party but I also knew it was probably a bad idea, because one-year-olds never remember their birthdays, don’t know most of the people there, and are often freaked out by crowds. And then I thought WAIT A SECOND. Who should be celebrating? Me and Victor! We’re the ones who can’t believe we’ve lasted an entire year with this high-maintenance baby! We’re the ones who were pretty confident we WOULDN’T make it this far! So we decided to have a birthday party to celebrate OUR accomplishment—we survived the first year of being parents.
We had about 60 people over to eat, drink and be merry. It was complete chaos, but Katie held it together. Victor and I had a fabulous time visiting with friends we hadn’t seen enough in the previous year. It was great fun because we totally earned it.
(I look at that picture above and think MY GOODNESS, LOOK HOW YOUNG WE WERE. Life changes a lot in ten years, sure, but I think we’ve both aged tremendously—in the past year especially. Gah!)
Birthday parties since that very first one haven’t been quite the celebratory occasion for Mom and Dad, but still an awful lot of party party party. I get into all the planning, carrying out the theme, etc., and will settle for nothing less than my absolute best, even if Katie insists it’s all good enough. She should’ve been born to a mom less obsessed with perfection if she didn’t like that kind of party planning. (Fortunately, she does—she’s going to be as obsessed as I am, or possibly worse, and I’d like to apologize to her future husband and children right now. Fancy Lori™, if everything goes as we have so carefully planned, your grandchildren will be complaining to you about their mom’s and OTHER grandma’s psychotic party-planning “skills”—so I’m sorry to you, too!)
One of my favorites of Katie’s birthday parties was her fourth, which was at a time in which she was fascinated with all things Paris because cousins Julianne and Jacob lived there at the time. She decided on a Parisian theme for her party, and because Darlene had recently visited and cleaned out nearly every souvenir shop in the city, we had lots of accessories and party favors that came directly from France. The food was not from France, however.
On Katie’s sixth birthday, we took a trip to Disneyland and went to the Princess Luncheon at Ariel’s Grotto in California Adventure. Seeing Katie’s face light up as each princess visited with her was worth that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad drive all the way from Portland and back. I’d do it again and again to witness that magic. Incredible.
Last year marked the end of the big blow-out parties, at least until Sweet Sixteen. Katie’s inviting just three friends over for the slumber party bash Friday. There’s not much of a theme, so although she assures me my ideas are still needed, I’m letting Katie pretty much run the show. Who’s grown as a mom? Who? Me, that’s who!
Some favorite snaps from non-birthday occasions over the years…
These next three photos were taken in Sunriver. Uncle Daryl and Auntie Sally were hanging out on the deck and Katie was playing shy. When she finally started to pay attention to them, Daryl picked up the camera and snapped these. They’re some of my favorites of all the kids’ pictures.
It was a pretty big deal for Katie to see this show, and she was thrilled to dress up for it.
Happy birthday, Katie! Thank you for the past ten years, for teaching me and Dad so much new and important stuff, things we never realized we’d need to learn. Thank you for being a child of which we can be proud. And thank you for being a tender-hearted, sweet, sensitive, beautiful girl who cares whether her clothes match. We think you’re a great kid!
P.S. We love you more than the dogs.
Hello. I am here today to tell you that I’m going to be all complain-y and stuff, but just for a minute.
I’ve reached the post-chemo stage of hurting all the live-long day. Last night I actually felt the pain come on; it started in my shoulders—they felt very tender to the touch—and slowly moved down to my waist as the evening went on. Just now, I sat back in my chair and actually said “Ouch!” out loud because it hurt when the chair touched me. My sister was on a top secret mission in Denver last night. Here’s how she spent most of her evening:
And here’s what she left that surprisingly clean place with, which likely sent her directly to a liquor store if she has any sense at all (and I know she does):
The girl is definitely wearing the ribbon! That’s green for lymphoma and pink for breast cancer, and the initials are for me, Brenda FM and Kari RO. Kath, I feel comfortable speaking for Brenda and Kari when I assure you that we all love you right back, possibly now more than ever!
Guess what? I’m taking almost NO pain medication anymore! How awesome am I? I mean, um, how awesome is that? Yes, THAT, because I’m not looking for praise upon myself, OH NO, having broken a near-addiction to Vicodin and Oxycontin and all sorts of other potently delightful and wondrous pain-relieving narcotics…
Well, fine, I admit it. I’m kinda proud that I’ve been able to wean myself away from the vile habit that could have been. Although my back pain has not disappeared completely, the physical therapy I’ll be starting soon should get rid of the last of it, or so my oncologist says. It makes sense that after nearly a year of not being able to function normally, maybe some of my muscles aren’t working as they should be. If the physical therapist puts me on one of those stretching racks, though, I’m gonna be really upset. And if he turns on a laser that slowly moves up my body, threatening to slice me in half unless I can intercept the beam, I might start suspecting that I’m not seeing a physical therapist at all, but a Bond villain bent on world domination.
Can’t wait!
Really, the point of this post is not to brag on myself (alright, maybe a little), but to share more of these fun and fabulous cancer-fighting images I’ve been collecting. You might remember the ones I posted in December. Here are the latest, some of which I gladly share with Brenda F.M. and Kari R.O.:
For all o’ y’all.
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This one could not be more perfect.
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Now, I know we said we weren’t doing the ribbon thing, Lori, but I think those below are nice.
And this particular one makes me think of Kari Felkley Dieter, so it’s extra good.
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This one is my favorite of the bunch. I like the idea of winning. 
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In case you haven’t caught on, lime green is the ribbon color for lymphoma. And if you’re wondering why on earth a perfectly lovely person like Lori might not want to wear the ribbon, here’s a clue:
Truthfully, this scene from Seinfeld is kinda why I’m not super-keen on the ribbon either—it was from a time when the whole ribbon thing was getting WAY over-done. But there are pa-lenty of other ways to show your support in the fight against lymphoma. Me? I’ve chosen physically fighting it. It’s working so far. 
It would have been difficult for this to be a rotten day. It was a happy one, and here’s why:
The sun shone almost all day today—it was one of those Portland winter days that absolutely convinces you that spring is on its way. Who cares if it’s grey and dreary tomorrow? Today was gorgeous. It was hard not to smile at the beautiful blue skies and white fluffy clouds.There’s rain forecasted for tomorrow. No matter. Today was truly wonderful.
