We all have them. You know, you want to write something, but you can't come up with scintillating observations -- so you complete a meme, or post an on-line quiz, or song lyrics or soemthing along those lines?
And then, you know how some days it seems there are more people commenting than others? Comments that are more than two or three words? I've been thinking about yesterday's comments and voila! A post for today.
Doug said...
I'm pretty sure you're not as vanilla as you think.
Okay, perhaps not. But it feels like it sometimes. Definitely feels like it when others look at me and make a judgement about who I am based on the superficials (looks, job, the way I speak).
I don't have to agree with how someone else lives, but I do need to tolerate it and let them live. So long as they don't infringe on my ability to do the same. The tolerance must be mutual, otherwise we end up where we are now: at war.We all want to find something in common with those around us.
Yep. But I think the war we are in right now is completely a financial and political decision. The fact that it was allowed to be made was dependent on our lack of tolerance and understanding. I've heard from people, "Well, it's not like the Iraquis had it better under Hussein!" as if that's enough of a reason for the U.S. to have gone in there. We haven't made changes for the better, and if that was our intent, why haven't we gone into Darfur? Or Somalia?
Snooze said...
I also agree with doug that you're probably less vanilla than you think.
Hey, maybe by calling myself vanilla, that makes me not vanilla, because no one wants to own to that, so perhaps embracing my vanilla-ness negates the vanilla quality I possess! I'm going to be Cayenne Pepper from now on.
Comment deleted
This post has been removed by the author.
Does this drive anyone else as nuts as it does me? Who wrote something? Was it nasty and he or she felt bad afterwards? or was it just a misspelled comment? Could it have been a double post? And how come I'm not able to delete a duplicated comment on em's blog? This is too Da Vinci Code for me.
GayProf said...
I do have to ask, though, why aren't you radical liberal?
This is a great question. Heart of the matter and all. Went to bed thinking about it, and here it is 12 hours later and I'm still thinking about it. There's a picture in my mind of what a radical liberal looks like and acts like and thinks like, and I don't fit that picture. But, as far as my faith goes, I am liberal. Liberal to the point of being radical. Keeping religious beliefs out of politics? I'm fanatical about that. When it comes to our dealings with other countries, definitely liberal. But radical? What does it really mean? And now, that I've used the word radical so much, it just sounds like a dish someone cooks in a casserole.
Here's just part of the dictionary definition:
marked by a considerable departure from the usual or traditional : EXTREME b : tending or disposed to make extreme changes in existing views, habits, conditions, or institutions c : of, relating to, or constituting a political group associated with views, practices, and policies of extreme change d : advocating extreme measures to retain or restore a political state of affairs.
It's that word "extreme." Extreme scares me. And, when it comes to actually putting myself on the line, my job, my reputation... I do take the time to weigh the pros and cons of a situation.
Gayprof... I'm not finished with this answer yet. A New Year's post it will be.
tornwordo said...
So what's the resolution?
My resolution is to not compare myself to others. Whether it's successes or failures.
I know, good luck with that one, right? I need to keep reminding myself that everyone is doing the best with what they have, and so am I. Back to my crazy aunt: "If everyone just got right with themselves, there really wouldn't be any problems." Simplistic, but the starting point.
knottyboy said...
As a part of the class did they slaughter a lamb and then pray to the baby jesus?
No, but we had to sit in a circle and "share" every day. One day a guy stood up, got into the middle of the circle, and started screaming at everyone. Said we had ruined the land, and stolen it from "his people" and had no respect for mother earth. He then yelled that we were the spawn of European rapists and thieves, and would never be forgiven for the atrocities we've committed.
It got very quiet very quickly in that room.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
New Year's, New Beginnings, All full of hope
Robert Pirsig wrote in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:
“We take a handful of sand from the endless landscape of the awareness around us, and call that handful of sand the world.”
I used this quote in my Fulbright application essay. It's one of those lines that gets me thinking.
I commented on a blog today that I'm a vanilla person. Torn called me that at least 20 years ago, and it still rings true. I'm a white, middle-class, blonde, blue-eyed teacher. No, I'm not a Republican, but I'm not a radical liberal either.
The town I live in is the one I grew up in; quiet, suburban, and safe.
A "Cross-cultural" class I had to take for my teaching credential was difficult for me. Every day for 8 weeks, I was told how I needed to learn about all other cultures because I was in the privileged culture. That of white folks. Lucky for me I was a woman; at least I was in one marginalized group.
I was told it was my responsibility, more so than others, to educate myself in the customs and norms outside that privileged white culture.
Problem was, the way the class was presented, was as if I was the enemy. As if, simply by being born what I was, I was wrong and had to be fixed.
Sound familiar?
I know it's not the same thing, and yes, the class was lame.
But it goes back to that handful of sand we call The World. It's not the world.
My experience is not anyone else's. Nor is yours. When I talk about how I'm treated as a single, over-40-year-old woman, it shouldn't be compared to how you are treated as a lesbian, or a Latino, or an atheist. We are what we are.
But, it feels as if we are always comparing ourselves, including our problems to others. You know, My problem is bigger, more important than yours.
I'm as guilty of this as anyone.
Hey, I think I've just figured out my New Year's Resolution.
“We take a handful of sand from the endless landscape of the awareness around us, and call that handful of sand the world.”
I used this quote in my Fulbright application essay. It's one of those lines that gets me thinking.
I commented on a blog today that I'm a vanilla person. Torn called me that at least 20 years ago, and it still rings true. I'm a white, middle-class, blonde, blue-eyed teacher. No, I'm not a Republican, but I'm not a radical liberal either.
The town I live in is the one I grew up in; quiet, suburban, and safe.
A "Cross-cultural" class I had to take for my teaching credential was difficult for me. Every day for 8 weeks, I was told how I needed to learn about all other cultures because I was in the privileged culture. That of white folks. Lucky for me I was a woman; at least I was in one marginalized group.
I was told it was my responsibility, more so than others, to educate myself in the customs and norms outside that privileged white culture.
Problem was, the way the class was presented, was as if I was the enemy. As if, simply by being born what I was, I was wrong and had to be fixed.
Sound familiar?
I know it's not the same thing, and yes, the class was lame.
But it goes back to that handful of sand we call The World. It's not the world.
My experience is not anyone else's. Nor is yours. When I talk about how I'm treated as a single, over-40-year-old woman, it shouldn't be compared to how you are treated as a lesbian, or a Latino, or an atheist. We are what we are.
But, it feels as if we are always comparing ourselves, including our problems to others. You know, My problem is bigger, more important than yours.
I'm as guilty of this as anyone.
Hey, I think I've just figured out my New Year's Resolution.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Oh the drama
Think I'm getting sick.
It could be that GOING BACK TO WORK is looming rather closely in the future, or it might be that I've been drinking like it's going out of style.
Switched over to the new blogger today, and it took only, ah... let's see... 8 hours! It's not like I have a huge blog, nor do I post several pictures at a time, but for some special reason, no blog for me today.
But I'm back.
Hi.
Used up the $50 American Express gift card from my aunt today at Trader Joes. If you don't have one near you, poor you. God I love that store. It's like Marshalls or Ross for gourmet food. There is nothing there that tastes bad. Except fish. Don't like the fish. Too fishy. But then again, I don't like any fish. Especially Tuna.
See, I am a gay man in a straight woman's body.
I also got a surprise returning a gift from my mother yesterday. See, she got this idea that my brother, sister and I, would all love a great big, massive, Pannini maker for Christmas. Bought one for each of us. We were all a bit perplexed by this, since my mother has never made a Pannini for any of us herself, nor have we heard her speak of ever eating a Pannini.
In addition, I have the Keebler elf kitchen. No, really. I have a cupboard. One. I have a half-size fridge, and about a square foot of blue counter. That's it. I keep all my baking stuff in the oven, since there's no place else to put it, and my frying pans and pots and such, hang from a rack I installed in the ceiling crossbeam.
Small doesn't describe it.
My sister has room for something like that, but doesn't cook. Not really. Oh, she heats things up, and sometimes "creates" some awful food and calls that cooking, but with this machine, one might have to follow directions, seeing that it gets very hot. Sister doesn't like directions. She actually just left hers at my mother's house. Somewhat tactless, but she's got pregnancy brain right now.
And brother? Well, as we walked out to our cars I asked him what he was going to do with it.
"We don't have any room, we'll probably put it in storage for now."
I sound ungrateful, don't I? Well, I'm not. It's not so much that she bought us all something that none of us ever gave a small clue we wanted, it's how much she spent on each of the machines. I went to Costco, fully expecting the refund to be about twenty-five, maybe thirty-five dollars. Nope. Not close. Each one cost $89.99! Oh my goodness.
Mom does not have that kind of money to spend on gifts.
Brother and I have been trying for the last few years to get her to limit her spending. With not much success, obviously. I give her $100 a month, my two siblings paid for her $7000 dental work last year, and they've started a savings account for her (about which, my mother knows nothing). She works full-time, but is scraping by most months. Brother, Sister and I are all doing just fine at this point financially. Not I'm-about-to-buy-a-house fine, but fine nonetheless.
It was nice getting the cash back for something I know I wouldn't have used. Now I just have to figure out how to get the money back to Mumsy without her knowing.
Hmm?
All ideas are welcome.
It could be that GOING BACK TO WORK is looming rather closely in the future, or it might be that I've been drinking like it's going out of style.
Switched over to the new blogger today, and it took only, ah... let's see... 8 hours! It's not like I have a huge blog, nor do I post several pictures at a time, but for some special reason, no blog for me today.
But I'm back.
Hi.
Used up the $50 American Express gift card from my aunt today at Trader Joes. If you don't have one near you, poor you. God I love that store. It's like Marshalls or Ross for gourmet food. There is nothing there that tastes bad. Except fish. Don't like the fish. Too fishy. But then again, I don't like any fish. Especially Tuna.
See, I am a gay man in a straight woman's body.
I also got a surprise returning a gift from my mother yesterday. See, she got this idea that my brother, sister and I, would all love a great big, massive, Pannini maker for Christmas. Bought one for each of us. We were all a bit perplexed by this, since my mother has never made a Pannini for any of us herself, nor have we heard her speak of ever eating a Pannini.
In addition, I have the Keebler elf kitchen. No, really. I have a cupboard. One. I have a half-size fridge, and about a square foot of blue counter. That's it. I keep all my baking stuff in the oven, since there's no place else to put it, and my frying pans and pots and such, hang from a rack I installed in the ceiling crossbeam.
Small doesn't describe it.
My sister has room for something like that, but doesn't cook. Not really. Oh, she heats things up, and sometimes "creates" some awful food and calls that cooking, but with this machine, one might have to follow directions, seeing that it gets very hot. Sister doesn't like directions. She actually just left hers at my mother's house. Somewhat tactless, but she's got pregnancy brain right now.
And brother? Well, as we walked out to our cars I asked him what he was going to do with it.
"We don't have any room, we'll probably put it in storage for now."
I sound ungrateful, don't I? Well, I'm not. It's not so much that she bought us all something that none of us ever gave a small clue we wanted, it's how much she spent on each of the machines. I went to Costco, fully expecting the refund to be about twenty-five, maybe thirty-five dollars. Nope. Not close. Each one cost $89.99! Oh my goodness.
Mom does not have that kind of money to spend on gifts.
Brother and I have been trying for the last few years to get her to limit her spending. With not much success, obviously. I give her $100 a month, my two siblings paid for her $7000 dental work last year, and they've started a savings account for her (about which, my mother knows nothing). She works full-time, but is scraping by most months. Brother, Sister and I are all doing just fine at this point financially. Not I'm-about-to-buy-a-house fine, but fine nonetheless.
It was nice getting the cash back for something I know I wouldn't have used. Now I just have to figure out how to get the money back to Mumsy without her knowing.
Hmm?
All ideas are welcome.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
viruses
Both my mother and sister were really sick yesterday. I wasn't, even though we all ate the same foods. What's up with that? Do I have an iron stomach? Aren't most of what we used to call the "24-hour bugs" actually some kind of food poisoning? I don't know.
Been fiddling with my computer today too. Finally figured out how to remove the Norton Anti-virus that came installed on my computer. Now, now, don't scream at me. I have AVG now, which is free, and more importantly, works just fine. Norton kept giving me popups and reminders that I needed to renew my subscription and all that.
However, now I find I have a virus/Trojan horse deal that can't be deleted. It's in the "archives" whatever that means, and has something to do with my Java program. That's about all I understand. Hope it won't cause any huge problems. I had another virus that supposedly would be fixed by updated my Microsoft windows stuff, but now I have a weird looking toolbar I don't like as much as I did the former one.
See, like I said a few posts ago, I don't like change.
Anyway, hope my computer doesn't explode, or someone get all my financial information (not that it would help anyone much).
It's raining and very windy here; strange weather, but appropriate since the last two years of camping over New Year's has been rained out. It's been cold and dry for the last three weeks, and then today? Rain.
I did get a cool picture this morning. Not as cool as the real thing, mind you, but cool nonetheless.
Been fiddling with my computer today too. Finally figured out how to remove the Norton Anti-virus that came installed on my computer. Now, now, don't scream at me. I have AVG now, which is free, and more importantly, works just fine. Norton kept giving me popups and reminders that I needed to renew my subscription and all that.
However, now I find I have a virus/Trojan horse deal that can't be deleted. It's in the "archives" whatever that means, and has something to do with my Java program. That's about all I understand. Hope it won't cause any huge problems. I had another virus that supposedly would be fixed by updated my Microsoft windows stuff, but now I have a weird looking toolbar I don't like as much as I did the former one.
See, like I said a few posts ago, I don't like change.
Anyway, hope my computer doesn't explode, or someone get all my financial information (not that it would help anyone much).
It's raining and very windy here; strange weather, but appropriate since the last two years of camping over New Year's has been rained out. It's been cold and dry for the last three weeks, and then today? Rain.
I did get a cool picture this morning. Not as cool as the real thing, mind you, but cool nonetheless.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
My Brother is getting married the day after tomorrow!
I'm always the last to know.
Now, there's a back story. There always is.
My brother and his girlfriend are both 45 years old.
They've been together since they were seniors in high school.
That's 1979 folks.
Nineteen-frickin'-seventy-bellbottoms and Peter Frampton-nine!
Twenty-eight years for those of you already going heavy on the eggnog.
Now they decide to get married?
Now?
And yes, it's been discussed before... but it's never actually happened.
My mother called me today, and mentioned it casually, like I knew.
"WHAT?"
"Oh you know, we talked about it at Thanksgiving."
Which, you might remember dear readers, that I spent in Albany, New York.
So no, "we" did not talk about it.
Wow.
Now, there's a back story. There always is.
My brother and his girlfriend are both 45 years old.
They've been together since they were seniors in high school.
That's 1979 folks.
Nineteen-frickin'-seventy-bellbottoms and Peter Frampton-nine!
Twenty-eight years for those of you already going heavy on the eggnog.
Now they decide to get married?
Now?
And yes, it's been discussed before... but it's never actually happened.
My mother called me today, and mentioned it casually, like I knew.
"WHAT?"
"Oh you know, we talked about it at Thanksgiving."
Which, you might remember dear readers, that I spent in Albany, New York.
So no, "we" did not talk about it.
Wow.
I was meaning to go to church this morning
but didn't make it. I do like the ritual and the message this time of year, even if it's hidden under the PILES of presents and commercials and lights and blow-up santas and snowmen on people's lawns.
If you are a liberal, and a Christian, you are suspect. Drives me nuts. Of course, just the act of calling oneself a "Christian" is loaded with meaning. I hate hate hate the way the neo-conservative, religious right has taken over that word to the point where I feel I have to explain myself (just as I am doing right now).
And yes, there are people who would say I'm not a Christian at all, since my views don't fit in with their views of what a Christian is, and since they have a direct line with god, and I don't, well, they know better than I do just what is the "right" way to believe.
The hardest thing for me is to be tolerant of other people's intolerance. Now that would be an accomplishment. Just not sure it's one I want to achieve.
There's so much fingerpointing, and "I'm right, which means you must be wrong," and actual hatred because someone is different from oneself. If we spent a fraction of that time on trying to just see things from another perspective -- if we spent just a few moments a day realizing we might not have all the answers, that there might, just possibly, be more than one way to the TRUTH, whatever that might be, maybe, just maybe...
Okay, got a little lofty there. Sorry. Here's a treat for those of you who are still with me. Watch this.
I copied it from the hot librarian. It's strangely addictive. I can't take my eyes off this woman.
Merry Christmas everyone.
If you are a liberal, and a Christian, you are suspect. Drives me nuts. Of course, just the act of calling oneself a "Christian" is loaded with meaning. I hate hate hate the way the neo-conservative, religious right has taken over that word to the point where I feel I have to explain myself (just as I am doing right now).
And yes, there are people who would say I'm not a Christian at all, since my views don't fit in with their views of what a Christian is, and since they have a direct line with god, and I don't, well, they know better than I do just what is the "right" way to believe.
The hardest thing for me is to be tolerant of other people's intolerance. Now that would be an accomplishment. Just not sure it's one I want to achieve.
There's so much fingerpointing, and "I'm right, which means you must be wrong," and actual hatred because someone is different from oneself. If we spent a fraction of that time on trying to just see things from another perspective -- if we spent just a few moments a day realizing we might not have all the answers, that there might, just possibly, be more than one way to the TRUTH, whatever that might be, maybe, just maybe...
Okay, got a little lofty there. Sorry. Here's a treat for those of you who are still with me. Watch this.
I copied it from the hot librarian. It's strangely addictive. I can't take my eyes off this woman.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Firetini
I've been spending far too much time alone the last few days. Last night a couple girlfriends and I went out to Elements, this hoity toity, snooty patooty place.
It wasn't my first choice, but hey, it was going out.
Met up with Andy (Andrea) at 6, and the first thing she tells me is that she's going surfing tomorrow, so she can only have a couple of drinks.
Now people. I put on a dress. I put on make-up. I actually put in my contacts, which is a time consuming event. I looked good. Pretty darn good actually.
And it was still happy hour, and she's saying she's already eaten dinner, and doesn't want to drink too much and wants to go to bed early.
Then Thea shows up. She looks great. I can tell she took some time to get ready, so I'm thinking, okay, this'll be fine.
But no. She's got a date at 8 o'clock. Yep. Seems she's got a new bloke and they're going to have dinner and "exchange gifts." I don't know if that's code for knocking boots, but I realize it doesn't involve me tagging along.
I'm cursed I tell you, cursed. I don't live in a place where going to a bar alone is a fun or exciting event. Oh yeah, once or twice in my younger days I did it, but it usually means running into someone I know (and this time of year, lots of folks back in town for the holiday), and having them give me a look of pity once they talk to me and find out 1) I'm still single, and 2) I'm out in a bar alone.
I ordered a Firetini, this FABULOUS drink with Habernero vodka and passionfruit puree, and a blue cheese hamburger with more peppers and onions on it. I figured if my social life wasn't too spicy, at least my gastronomical choices could be. We were at the bar, and two handsome men came in and sat next to us, on my side.
The girls started nudging me. The guys couldn't be less interested in the three of us. Well, I suppose they could be less interested, I mean, if we weren't there.
New Year's Eve came up. I told them I was planning to go camping. Protests. I should go out with them. Get all dressed up, and go to the bar we went to last year.
Now, we all know that 40 is supposed to be the new 30, which means I'm really only 32... however.
Being single, when most of my friends... nay, 95% of my friends are married, in a relationship, or dating, is a bit of a challenge. Not impossible, and I'm not one of those people who mind that much being the fifth wheel. I'm much more upset when I'm left out than when I'm the odd man (woman?) out. A good chunk of my friends are also 10-12 years younger than I am. Again not a problem, except I am not all that attractive to men 10-12 years younger than I am.
And then, of course, I get into this stupid, "Why am I still single?" mode that's boring, self-indulgent, and really, has no answer.
Gah.
To top it all off, after my exotic food and drink adventure? Worst case of heartburn I've ever had.
Oh yeah, I'm a catch all right.
It wasn't my first choice, but hey, it was going out.
Met up with Andy (Andrea) at 6, and the first thing she tells me is that she's going surfing tomorrow, so she can only have a couple of drinks.
Now people. I put on a dress. I put on make-up. I actually put in my contacts, which is a time consuming event. I looked good. Pretty darn good actually.
And it was still happy hour, and she's saying she's already eaten dinner, and doesn't want to drink too much and wants to go to bed early.
Then Thea shows up. She looks great. I can tell she took some time to get ready, so I'm thinking, okay, this'll be fine.
But no. She's got a date at 8 o'clock. Yep. Seems she's got a new bloke and they're going to have dinner and "exchange gifts." I don't know if that's code for knocking boots, but I realize it doesn't involve me tagging along.
I'm cursed I tell you, cursed. I don't live in a place where going to a bar alone is a fun or exciting event. Oh yeah, once or twice in my younger days I did it, but it usually means running into someone I know (and this time of year, lots of folks back in town for the holiday), and having them give me a look of pity once they talk to me and find out 1) I'm still single, and 2) I'm out in a bar alone.
I ordered a Firetini, this FABULOUS drink with Habernero vodka and passionfruit puree, and a blue cheese hamburger with more peppers and onions on it. I figured if my social life wasn't too spicy, at least my gastronomical choices could be. We were at the bar, and two handsome men came in and sat next to us, on my side.
The girls started nudging me. The guys couldn't be less interested in the three of us. Well, I suppose they could be less interested, I mean, if we weren't there.
New Year's Eve came up. I told them I was planning to go camping. Protests. I should go out with them. Get all dressed up, and go to the bar we went to last year.
Now, we all know that 40 is supposed to be the new 30, which means I'm really only 32... however.
Being single, when most of my friends... nay, 95% of my friends are married, in a relationship, or dating, is a bit of a challenge. Not impossible, and I'm not one of those people who mind that much being the fifth wheel. I'm much more upset when I'm left out than when I'm the odd man (woman?) out. A good chunk of my friends are also 10-12 years younger than I am. Again not a problem, except I am not all that attractive to men 10-12 years younger than I am.
And then, of course, I get into this stupid, "Why am I still single?" mode that's boring, self-indulgent, and really, has no answer.
Gah.
To top it all off, after my exotic food and drink adventure? Worst case of heartburn I've ever had.
Oh yeah, I'm a catch all right.
Friday, December 22, 2006
A week off already
Well, I'm almost finished. Shopping, wrapping, oh-crap-I-forgot-that-person-and-now-I-have-to-go-back-to-the-goddamn-mall; you know, the joys of Christmas.
Yesterday, at Target, I was looking at those great big gift bags, the kind a child's bike can fit into? I've got a big present for a family member, and wrapping it is going to be a challenge.
They wanted $4.99 for a big plastic bag. Nope, cheapskate that I am, wasn't going to do it. Then, I saw a vinyl, Christmas-y tablecloth for $2.99. Really big, and reusable too. I bought it, and it worked wonderfully. The present is all wrapped up, the wrapping is a little extra gift, and nothing to throw away. Environmentally sound and all that.
I like using Christmas or winter-themed towels to wrap things in too. All that wrapping paper going to waste gets to me. Every year I scope out Ross for the cheap but cute towels... usually two for three bucks; but I have to go early. This year I bought them out before Thanksgiving. Some of my friends have quite a collection going at this point.
This dish towel idea wasn't mine originally. A friend of mine's been doing it for years. She also adds an ornament to the outside of every package. I don't go that far. Too much work for me.
Twelve Christmas cards actually got sent this year. Much better record than last year.
What are the little things you do every year at this time? Any traditions you've started?
Yesterday, at Target, I was looking at those great big gift bags, the kind a child's bike can fit into? I've got a big present for a family member, and wrapping it is going to be a challenge.
They wanted $4.99 for a big plastic bag. Nope, cheapskate that I am, wasn't going to do it. Then, I saw a vinyl, Christmas-y tablecloth for $2.99. Really big, and reusable too. I bought it, and it worked wonderfully. The present is all wrapped up, the wrapping is a little extra gift, and nothing to throw away. Environmentally sound and all that.
I like using Christmas or winter-themed towels to wrap things in too. All that wrapping paper going to waste gets to me. Every year I scope out Ross for the cheap but cute towels... usually two for three bucks; but I have to go early. This year I bought them out before Thanksgiving. Some of my friends have quite a collection going at this point.
This dish towel idea wasn't mine originally. A friend of mine's been doing it for years. She also adds an ornament to the outside of every package. I don't go that far. Too much work for me.
Twelve Christmas cards actually got sent this year. Much better record than last year.
What are the little things you do every year at this time? Any traditions you've started?
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
I don't wanna!
I am not against change.
I'm not.
It's just that I hate having to do something. Like switch to the "new" blogger. I can't leave messages on St. Dickybird's blog except anonymously... and just now I tried to leave one for Chunk's and it wouldn't let me at all. I kept getting a tiny square with a red x in it instead of the letter verification.
grr...
I will change... I will. Just hate being forced into it. Know I read your blogs daily. Well, those of you whose blogs I read.
That made no sense, and I've not even had any wine tonight.
Yet.
I'm not.
It's just that I hate having to do something. Like switch to the "new" blogger. I can't leave messages on St. Dickybird's blog except anonymously... and just now I tried to leave one for Chunk's and it wouldn't let me at all. I kept getting a tiny square with a red x in it instead of the letter verification.
grr...
I will change... I will. Just hate being forced into it. Know I read your blogs daily. Well, those of you whose blogs I read.
That made no sense, and I've not even had any wine tonight.
Yet.
Much rejoicing
Okay, so the trouble with my car? You know, that's been acting up since, oh, I don't know... JUNE?
It was a stupid little wire connection that was fixed today for less than $100. Hooray.
It was going to cost more than that to rent a car from Saturday to Tuesday. I'm driving to my friend Carol's house to celebrate Christmas Eve with her and her partner and their little baby boy. It's been almost a year since they told me they were expecting. Alright, just Elaine was expecting. Carol pregnant? I don't think so.
Anyway, it sure was fun buying the little onesies and outfits for the boychild today.
Every year, since I was 18, I've spent Christmas Eve with Carol and her family. Her mom is like a second mom to me. Last year she and her partner (Carol, not her mother), decided they were going to start their own tradition. Carol is Polish, and supper at their house the night before Christmas always included Pierogi.
I love Pierogi.
So much that I made some last year.
Now, I know I'm not Polish (Italian, English, and Scottish), but I thought they were pretty good.
Carol mail-ordered some from Chicago this year.
Oh well, less work for me.
And hey, I can spend my time picking out the wine.
It was a stupid little wire connection that was fixed today for less than $100. Hooray.
It was going to cost more than that to rent a car from Saturday to Tuesday. I'm driving to my friend Carol's house to celebrate Christmas Eve with her and her partner and their little baby boy. It's been almost a year since they told me they were expecting. Alright, just Elaine was expecting. Carol pregnant? I don't think so.
Anyway, it sure was fun buying the little onesies and outfits for the boychild today.
Every year, since I was 18, I've spent Christmas Eve with Carol and her family. Her mom is like a second mom to me. Last year she and her partner (Carol, not her mother), decided they were going to start their own tradition. Carol is Polish, and supper at their house the night before Christmas always included Pierogi.
I love Pierogi.
So much that I made some last year.
Now, I know I'm not Polish (Italian, English, and Scottish), but I thought they were pretty good.
Carol mail-ordered some from Chicago this year.
Oh well, less work for me.
And hey, I can spend my time picking out the wine.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
I'm cold
Yes, I know, I'm in Southern California. How can it be?
Well, because there is no heating, nor insulation in my quirky little house, and it's been in the high 20's the last few nights.
How many quilts really, can one pile on a bed?
Tomorrow the car goes in to the shop. Hopefully I won't have to buy a new one next week. That would really suck.
Well, because there is no heating, nor insulation in my quirky little house, and it's been in the high 20's the last few nights.
How many quilts really, can one pile on a bed?
Tomorrow the car goes in to the shop. Hopefully I won't have to buy a new one next week. That would really suck.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Politically incorrect Christmas songs
(if you're offended by this, please accept my humble apology)
Christmas songs for the challenged
1. Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?
2. Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are
3. Dementia --- I Think I'll be Home for Christmas
4. Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me
5. Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and...
6. Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me
7. Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire
8. Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell
you Why
9. Attention Deficit Disorder --- Silent night, Holy -- oooh look at the Froggy - can I have a chocolate, why is France so far away?
10. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --- Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells
Christmas songs for the challenged
1. Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?
2. Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are
3. Dementia --- I Think I'll be Home for Christmas
4. Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me
5. Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and...
6. Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me
7. Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire
8. Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell
you Why
9. Attention Deficit Disorder --- Silent night, Holy -- oooh look at the Froggy - can I have a chocolate, why is France so far away?
10. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --- Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells
Elfamorphosis
Have you heard about this? I did it this morning and just cracked myself up.
click on this link (or copy and paste)... you can do one of your own too!
http://www.elfyourself.com/?userid=3df1fc57c122cfd00f44e8aG06121608
Hope it lightens your day!
click on this link (or copy and paste)... you can do one of your own too!
http://www.elfyourself.com/?userid=3df1fc57c122cfd00f44e8aG06121608
Hope it lightens your day!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I went to Ross tonight
I thought, foolishly, that it might not be too busy.
God.
So crowded, and everyone with that desperate, "I can't be thoughtful anymore, I have to just buy something!" look on their face. I felt a bit of that way too.
See, when I started working at my school, I was told by a wiser, more experienced teacher, "You need to give gifts to the women in the office, and the custodians. Remember who has the power in the school."
And so, every year I buy them presents. Or are they gifts? I have a friend who says a gift is something a person wants that you give to them. A present is something you give to a person because you want them to have it. Or something like that.
Anyway, you should see the haul, the butt load of stuff they walk away with every year. I kid you not, three grocery bags full, every one of them.
Thing is, I'm guessing most of the gifts are regifted anyway. I've actually seen lotion I've given to one of them end up in the women's staff bathroom. So why do I bother?
Because I have to, basically, uh... pay my respects. And I do, every year.
Now the custodians? They're another story. I love the chance to say thank you to them. They work their behinds off, and get the least thanks of anyone.
Me? Don't teachers rake it in?
Maybe somewhere, in fantasyland or Beverly Hills. Nope. Usually I get homemade cookies, homemade fudge, homemade ornaments, and family photos of my students. Once in a while, a starbucks gift card.
But you know what? The best are the cards and notes written to me by my students. Now, those are the gifts. Today I got one from a darling little girl in 4th period:
"Dear Mrs. Teacher (I'm not married yet, bless her heart),
Your (sic) awesome! Thanks for making English my favorite class this year!"
Love,
Darling Little Girl
Doesn't that just make your heart melt?
God.
So crowded, and everyone with that desperate, "I can't be thoughtful anymore, I have to just buy something!" look on their face. I felt a bit of that way too.
See, when I started working at my school, I was told by a wiser, more experienced teacher, "You need to give gifts to the women in the office, and the custodians. Remember who has the power in the school."
And so, every year I buy them presents. Or are they gifts? I have a friend who says a gift is something a person wants that you give to them. A present is something you give to a person because you want them to have it. Or something like that.
Anyway, you should see the haul, the butt load of stuff they walk away with every year. I kid you not, three grocery bags full, every one of them.
Thing is, I'm guessing most of the gifts are regifted anyway. I've actually seen lotion I've given to one of them end up in the women's staff bathroom. So why do I bother?
Because I have to, basically, uh... pay my respects. And I do, every year.
Now the custodians? They're another story. I love the chance to say thank you to them. They work their behinds off, and get the least thanks of anyone.
Me? Don't teachers rake it in?
Maybe somewhere, in fantasyland or Beverly Hills. Nope. Usually I get homemade cookies, homemade fudge, homemade ornaments, and family photos of my students. Once in a while, a starbucks gift card.
But you know what? The best are the cards and notes written to me by my students. Now, those are the gifts. Today I got one from a darling little girl in 4th period:
"Dear Mrs. Teacher (I'm not married yet, bless her heart),
Your (sic) awesome! Thanks for making English my favorite class this year!"
Love,
Darling Little Girl
Doesn't that just make your heart melt?
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
This morning
I woke up smiling from a lovely dream. Kurt Russell was involved.
(Don't ask me why it was Kurt Russell. I have no clue. He's not my fantasy at all. But hey, it was a dream.)
(Don't ask me why it was Kurt Russell. I have no clue. He's not my fantasy at all. But hey, it was a dream.)
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
These cookies are fabulous
You must go to the store right now, buy the ingredients,and make them.
Coconut Cranberry Chews
From Sunset Magazine Dec 2001
“Grand Prize Cookie Winner”
the mixture will look dry until it comes together as a dough. It it’s too crumbly to form into balls, the dough needs to be mixed longer; it should be a homogeneous mass.
Prep and cook time about 1 hour
Makes about 6 dozen cookies
¾ pound (1 ½ cups) butter or margarine, softened to room temperature
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon grated orange peel
2 teaspoons vanilla
3 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups dried cranberries*
1 ½ cups sweetened flaked dried coconut
1. In a large bowl, with a mixer on medium speed, beat 1 ½ cups butter, sugar, orange peel, and vanilla until smooth.
2. In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to butter mixture, stir to mix, then beat on low speed until dough comes together, about 5 minutes (see headnote about mixing). Mix in cranberries and coconut.
3. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and place about 2 inches apart on buttered 12-by 15 inch baking sheets.
4. Bake in a 350 degree F oven until cookie edges just begin to brown (8-11 minutes). Shorter baking time will yield a chewier cookie; longer baking time will yield a crisper cookie. If baking two sheets at once in one over, switch their positions halfway through baking. Let cookies cool on sheets for 5 minutes, then use a wide spatula to transfer to racks to cool completely.
------------------------------------
NOTES:
I use only 2 sticks of margarine AND add 1 egg white. This makes the dough much easier to mix and handle, less crumbly, and more like a usual cookie dough (in my opinion). *Also, I buy the dried cranberries that are already orange-flavored; that adds to the flavor /taste, I think.
Coconut Cranberry Chews
From Sunset Magazine Dec 2001
“Grand Prize Cookie Winner”
the mixture will look dry until it comes together as a dough. It it’s too crumbly to form into balls, the dough needs to be mixed longer; it should be a homogeneous mass.
Prep and cook time about 1 hour
Makes about 6 dozen cookies
¾ pound (1 ½ cups) butter or margarine, softened to room temperature
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon grated orange peel
2 teaspoons vanilla
3 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups dried cranberries*
1 ½ cups sweetened flaked dried coconut
1. In a large bowl, with a mixer on medium speed, beat 1 ½ cups butter, sugar, orange peel, and vanilla until smooth.
2. In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to butter mixture, stir to mix, then beat on low speed until dough comes together, about 5 minutes (see headnote about mixing). Mix in cranberries and coconut.
3. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and place about 2 inches apart on buttered 12-by 15 inch baking sheets.
4. Bake in a 350 degree F oven until cookie edges just begin to brown (8-11 minutes). Shorter baking time will yield a chewier cookie; longer baking time will yield a crisper cookie. If baking two sheets at once in one over, switch their positions halfway through baking. Let cookies cool on sheets for 5 minutes, then use a wide spatula to transfer to racks to cool completely.
------------------------------------
NOTES:
I use only 2 sticks of margarine AND add 1 egg white. This makes the dough much easier to mix and handle, less crumbly, and more like a usual cookie dough (in my opinion). *Also, I buy the dried cranberries that are already orange-flavored; that adds to the flavor /taste, I think.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Dad Called Last Night
He doesn't usually call me unless he's forgotten my birthday.
Seems his wife was in Wisconsin last week, seeing to her elderly (in their 90's!) parents. Dad was out in the garage, puttering around at six o'clock one morning(He's where I get that early riser thing).
Anyway, he locks himself out of the house. So, what does he do? Climb in a window? Call a locksmith? Oh no. that would be too easy.
No, my 71-year-old dad, who's not so...uh... coordinated anymore, decides to climb up into the attic from the garage access, shimmy his way across the two by fours and make his way to the master bedroom where there is a trap door to the attic in the closet.
Yeah, he didn't quite make it. Came crashing through the ceiling, fell on the floor, and landed on his feet.
He didn't get hurt at all! Didn't hit his head, didn't break a bone, wasn't even bleeding.
He brushed himself off, and went back out to the garage to finish up what he was doing.
Gah.
Crazy old man.
It gets me too. Not that I want anything bad to happen to him, but he's basically a shitty person, and he's asking for trouble, and he just swooshes right through. Yet my friend, David, as flaky as he can be, is a very good person, and loves his children, and has never smoked a day in his life, and this horrid thing happens.
I will slap the next person that says "things happen for a reason."
Anyway, I got a laugh out of my dad's adventures. I pointed out that if any of us kids had done anything so stupid (and caused so much damage) we would've been grounded forever. He agreed, but said he wasn't a teenager, and it was his house, and if he wanted to fall through the ceiling, then it was his right.
It was a nice phone call. I haven't had many of those with him in the last ten years.
Seems his wife was in Wisconsin last week, seeing to her elderly (in their 90's!) parents. Dad was out in the garage, puttering around at six o'clock one morning(He's where I get that early riser thing).
Anyway, he locks himself out of the house. So, what does he do? Climb in a window? Call a locksmith? Oh no. that would be too easy.
No, my 71-year-old dad, who's not so...uh... coordinated anymore, decides to climb up into the attic from the garage access, shimmy his way across the two by fours and make his way to the master bedroom where there is a trap door to the attic in the closet.
Yeah, he didn't quite make it. Came crashing through the ceiling, fell on the floor, and landed on his feet.
He didn't get hurt at all! Didn't hit his head, didn't break a bone, wasn't even bleeding.
He brushed himself off, and went back out to the garage to finish up what he was doing.
Gah.
Crazy old man.
It gets me too. Not that I want anything bad to happen to him, but he's basically a shitty person, and he's asking for trouble, and he just swooshes right through. Yet my friend, David, as flaky as he can be, is a very good person, and loves his children, and has never smoked a day in his life, and this horrid thing happens.
I will slap the next person that says "things happen for a reason."
Anyway, I got a laugh out of my dad's adventures. I pointed out that if any of us kids had done anything so stupid (and caused so much damage) we would've been grounded forever. He agreed, but said he wasn't a teenager, and it was his house, and if he wanted to fall through the ceiling, then it was his right.
It was a nice phone call. I haven't had many of those with him in the last ten years.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Work Party
Last night was the holiday party for school folks. It's always at someone's house, and is a quick little thing. It was from five to eight, and I went out for drinks afterwards with the "cool" teachers. I'm on the edge of that cool crowd. I'm too old to really be a part of it; besides, I can't stay up late enough for them.
Anyway,the funniest part of the evening came when two women, part of the aforementioned cool crowd, showed up within minutes of each other in the same dress. Now wait. It wasn't just like any old dress, oh no.
They were above-the-knee, form-fitting, cap-sleeved dresses. Both women wore tights, with knee-high black boots.
One dress was kelly green, the other, Christmas red.
They looked like elves. I wish I had a picture.
And, if you can believe this, they hadn't spoken to each other about it beforehand. Nope, one bought her dress just yesterday, the other in October.
Talk about festive.
It rained pretty hard last night, and for some insane reason, all the booze was outside, under, well, nothing. Really kept down the drinking.
I did have some great meatballs however. I love holiday food.
Anyway,the funniest part of the evening came when two women, part of the aforementioned cool crowd, showed up within minutes of each other in the same dress. Now wait. It wasn't just like any old dress, oh no.
They were above-the-knee, form-fitting, cap-sleeved dresses. Both women wore tights, with knee-high black boots.
One dress was kelly green, the other, Christmas red.
They looked like elves. I wish I had a picture.
And, if you can believe this, they hadn't spoken to each other about it beforehand. Nope, one bought her dress just yesterday, the other in October.
Talk about festive.
It rained pretty hard last night, and for some insane reason, all the booze was outside, under, well, nothing. Really kept down the drinking.
I did have some great meatballs however. I love holiday food.
Friday, December 08, 2006
back to myself
Gosh, last night was hard. I seem to have accepted things more now. Not that I'm happy about it, but I guess, acknowledged it.
This was a long week. In addition to the personal stuff, all kinds of computer problems at school. Some of which caused me to be unable to update my teacher webpage. Which in turn caused parents to call and email to remind me that the site wasn't updated.
I am not required to keep a webpage with a weekly schedule, handouts, and homework list on it. Not required to keep a webpage at all. But I have one. I do it as an extra; you know, a student is absent, and so can check online what he or she's supposed to do. A parent can check it to see if junior really has done it, or if he or she's stretching the truth a bit when he or she says "I don't have any homework tonight."
But, you do something as a favor, and pretty soon folks start expecting it.
Then, I wasn't able to get emails for two days on my school account, and that didn't go over too well either.
I teach six classes a day. No prep period (yes, I do get paid extra for it), and I've been in at lunch every day for the last two weeks, working with students, helping them get their work finished or giving make up quizzes. I have meetings at least twice a week after school, often every afternoon but Friday. I work until it gets dark. I'd stay later, but my end of the school is under construction, so not only are all the lights out in the hallway , I can't drive close up to my classroom door like I used to. Because of the fences around the construction, I actually have to walk to the other end of the school (we have a school that is quite spread out; all the classroom doors open to the outside, not in a self-contained building), cross up through the basketball courts, and then back in the other direction to the parking lot. All the locker halls, which I could cut through, are closed and locked by 4:30 pm.
So, when a parent complains about me not updating my homework site, I want to scream.
I like my job... I love my job. I love the students, I love learning....but sometimes people forget that I sometimes don't have time to go to the bathroom until school is over. Sometimes people forget that I can't answer the phone until school is over. Sometimes people forget that reading and grading 150 essays takes more than a week to correct.
oops.
I am back to my regular grouchy self.
Thank goodness it's Friday.
This was a long week. In addition to the personal stuff, all kinds of computer problems at school. Some of which caused me to be unable to update my teacher webpage. Which in turn caused parents to call and email to remind me that the site wasn't updated.
I am not required to keep a webpage with a weekly schedule, handouts, and homework list on it. Not required to keep a webpage at all. But I have one. I do it as an extra; you know, a student is absent, and so can check online what he or she's supposed to do. A parent can check it to see if junior really has done it, or if he or she's stretching the truth a bit when he or she says "I don't have any homework tonight."
But, you do something as a favor, and pretty soon folks start expecting it.
Then, I wasn't able to get emails for two days on my school account, and that didn't go over too well either.
I teach six classes a day. No prep period (yes, I do get paid extra for it), and I've been in at lunch every day for the last two weeks, working with students, helping them get their work finished or giving make up quizzes. I have meetings at least twice a week after school, often every afternoon but Friday. I work until it gets dark. I'd stay later, but my end of the school is under construction, so not only are all the lights out in the hallway , I can't drive close up to my classroom door like I used to. Because of the fences around the construction, I actually have to walk to the other end of the school (we have a school that is quite spread out; all the classroom doors open to the outside, not in a self-contained building), cross up through the basketball courts, and then back in the other direction to the parking lot. All the locker halls, which I could cut through, are closed and locked by 4:30 pm.
So, when a parent complains about me not updating my homework site, I want to scream.
I like my job... I love my job. I love the students, I love learning....but sometimes people forget that I sometimes don't have time to go to the bathroom until school is over. Sometimes people forget that I can't answer the phone until school is over. Sometimes people forget that reading and grading 150 essays takes more than a week to correct.
oops.
I am back to my regular grouchy self.
Thank goodness it's Friday.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Speed Dating
I had signed up a bit ago for this speed dating thing; went to it last night. I figured there was nothing to lose, and at least I'd get a post out of it. I met some girlfriends earlier for a glass (okay two) of wine, but went to the shindig on my own.
Eh.
Tried it, didn't like it. Just another form of rejection. I met seven men, thought three seemed interesting, and found out today none of the three were interested in me. Now I'm actually paying money to feel bad.
Really though, I don't feel bad. Well, not about this, anyway.
I just keep thinking about David, and what he must be going through. What his wife and family is going through. It's not his time. I refuse to believe it's his time.
Everything else right now just doesn't seem important. I used to have a sense of humor, but it seems as if a lot of serious shit has happened in the last twelve months. None of it to me, but all around me.
Haven't I done enough growing and maturing for a while? And then I think, it's not about me. It affects me, but it's not about me.
I'm ready for some good cheer.
Got any jokes?
Here's a new one:
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him... A super-calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
Eh.
Tried it, didn't like it. Just another form of rejection. I met seven men, thought three seemed interesting, and found out today none of the three were interested in me. Now I'm actually paying money to feel bad.
Really though, I don't feel bad. Well, not about this, anyway.
I just keep thinking about David, and what he must be going through. What his wife and family is going through. It's not his time. I refuse to believe it's his time.
Everything else right now just doesn't seem important. I used to have a sense of humor, but it seems as if a lot of serious shit has happened in the last twelve months. None of it to me, but all around me.
Haven't I done enough growing and maturing for a while? And then I think, it's not about me. It affects me, but it's not about me.
I'm ready for some good cheer.
Got any jokes?
Here's a new one:
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him... A super-calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Perspective
It's always about that, isn't it? The way we look at life, the way we judge people, the way we judge ourselves?
Last summer I was very angry with a friend of mine. I wrote about it here.
We've emailed once or twice since then, but not talked on the phone until tonight.
He's got cancer. Stage 4 cancer. In his throat.
He's only 44 years old. He's got three little kids, under the age of ten.
I almost don't know how to comprehend this. I mean, he's supposed to be around forever, just like all of us. What he must be feeling right now -- what he must be going through, I can't even imagine.
And yet again, there's nothing I can do. Okay, not nothing, I can think the strength thoughts, pray, chant, send good vibes, or whatever it is you are comfortable calling it... but I can't take any of the pain or worry or fear away. I can't take a little tablespoon of the cancer away, and ask everyone to do the same; I mean, a tablespoon of cancer can usually be dealt with. Not this thing.
He starts chemo next week and will be on it for 35 days. If his body responds to it, he'll be a candidate for surgery in late January or in February.
Please, I know you don't know him. I do. Think a positive thought for my friend David.
Last summer I was very angry with a friend of mine. I wrote about it here.
We've emailed once or twice since then, but not talked on the phone until tonight.
He's got cancer. Stage 4 cancer. In his throat.
He's only 44 years old. He's got three little kids, under the age of ten.
I almost don't know how to comprehend this. I mean, he's supposed to be around forever, just like all of us. What he must be feeling right now -- what he must be going through, I can't even imagine.
And yet again, there's nothing I can do. Okay, not nothing, I can think the strength thoughts, pray, chant, send good vibes, or whatever it is you are comfortable calling it... but I can't take any of the pain or worry or fear away. I can't take a little tablespoon of the cancer away, and ask everyone to do the same; I mean, a tablespoon of cancer can usually be dealt with. Not this thing.
He starts chemo next week and will be on it for 35 days. If his body responds to it, he'll be a candidate for surgery in late January or in February.
Please, I know you don't know him. I do. Think a positive thought for my friend David.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Now the wait begins
It was a long day. I got some questions I didn't expect, and very few that I did. It's human nature to worry after the fact, so I'm going to get a good night's sleep, and hopefully put my worry to bed too.
Have a good weekend.
Have a good weekend.
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