The Minutiae of Terrorism

I chatted with Hannah this morning. She is at her house with her papa (Grandpa) because she's too sick to go to school (caught another cootie from some pre-school terrorist!). Kaiser doesn't want to see her because she's not on her deathbed yet. I took pictures of our chat, blurry but still cute subject matter (not me, her). She talked to me about her stuffed animal, 'Melamine'  'Little Bear.'

I read recently that two people in China will be executed because they knew about melamine in the milk. Yesterday I read that the peanut butter company knew about salmonella too. Eight people died due to salmonella poisoning from eating peanut butter that a company already knew about. 

What's the difference between the folks at the peanut butter company and the terrorists who planned 9/11 but a few thousand lives and a plane? What makes one organization a terrorist organization and one organization a peanut butter company if both are destroying lives knowingly? The name? If the 9/11 attackers called themselves the Peanut Corporation of America would we have been that upset? The controversy over Gitmo closing wouldn't be on the table because it would never have opened for the folks over at P.C.O.A. had they been bashing down cockpit doors. How about all the Wall Street, banking and real estate terrorists with their collective corporate terrorism? So many people's lives destroyed. 

I need my own Little Bear. 

Let Them Drive Cake!

Look what you're missing when you aren't invited, neener neener don't attend the annual Fiat Awards banquet. Other than seeing some folks who you only see once a year at the annual Fiat Awards banquet which is really an award in and of itself, you missed out on this years special cake. If only my mouth were a garage...

This year's Fiat Awards banquet was an anniversary of sorts.

Last year I was on the chemo.

This year WE ARE FABULOUS!

Jazzy Sunday Morning

The local Santa Cruz stations plays some great jazz early, I mean EARLY Sunday morning.

In order to hear it you have to:

• Have your boyfriend set the alarm form 5:15 a.m. to go race his Fiat in the rain.
  
• You have to have a scheduled Weight Watchers meeting at 8 a.m. (my version of church). I keep the faith.
  
• Have on a pair of lymphedema preventing, lime green and black (sexy!) Reid sleeves from tip of toe to bottom of butt cheek (though at my my age my bottom of butt cheek is slowing sinking in the West).
  
• Have a cup of coffee with soy creamer.
  
• Don't forget to turn on that radio.
  
• Get back in bed and grab the remote to move the bed into position. Yes, this is one of those beds. (such a treat -- a cancer gift to myself).
  
• Sit back and enjoy.

That's what I'm doing this morning - not that anyone asked. Warm in the bed, coffee. Nothing to disturb this jazzy Miles Davis Sunday morning other than real life in about an hour.

Wai Me Me?

Last night I went to my first post-treatment cancer support group and it seemed like everyone's story was awful -- actually made me feel grateful to be me. 

I half-expected to walk into a room of sick looking people though much to my dismay everyone looked pretty good which means I have to go twice per month - (I hope you're happy). I was going to allow myself the luxury of not attending if the room was full of sickos. That was my one out! This group will be a 6 month commitment - twice per month. 

I have mixed feelings about going to this group. I feel like the more I dwell on the subject of cancer, the more it's lurking right there...wherever there is. (Dwelling on food and fat has certainly made both front and center in my life.) If I live each day, I'm fine. It's like I don't know how much attention to give cancer (how 'bout none?). I have changed a lot of my health habits as a result of the diagnosis (in the hopes that it was in fact, all my fault that I got cancer to begin with like so many well-intentioned folks tried to tell me) so it's not like I ignored the diagnosis and went back to the same ole, same ole. I promise. I'm a new woman. Except in all fairness, I still have control issues. Control is in my blood.

Seemed like half of the people in the support group found out they had a cancer diagnosis right before leaving on vacation. I was leaving for Hawaii and found out two days prior.

  Aloha. 'You have cancer. Enjoy your vacation! When you return we'll remove that enormous, life-altering, poi-filled tumor your body has been brewing for years in your wahine" Mahalo.

I've decided no more vacations for me from here on out. Chris can go to Italy with Satan. (See what I care! pppffftttttttt!) I'm thinking that vacations might cause cancer, at least in 50% of the people who take them (my made-up statistics). And the whole pre-vacations/illness diagnoses is too much of a crapshoot, one with which I am no longer willing to partake. After last night's group, for me, the evidence is in on this one. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Setting the Story Straight

Turns out that Amber, the hit & run girl is not a major creepy adult-type manipulator after all. Amber is only 18 and what do they know? (just about everything, THANK  YOU!) She either hadn't read the part of the DMV book or her basic insurance information that instructs a person what they must do in case of an accident. That, or she was too busy posting panty pictures on Facebook. Both make sense to me in light of her age and the amount of time she's been behind the wheel.

Chris wanted to communicate with Amber, not necessarily because of her panty-exposing picture (though to a lot of men, I imagine a younger, though still-of-legal-age female clad in panties is no deterrent) to have a conversation with her to (hopefully) ensure that she's aware of the legal protocol when she slams into Chris's daughter in future.

After a post on Facebook to Amber from a very reluctant Molly with the slight threat that Chris might call the police (who had also agreed that the accident was technically a hit & run), Amber willingly came forth, meeting Chris on Sunday, fully-clothed, (dammit) (much to Chris's dismay). 

She gave Chris $48.00 to pay for the damaged wheel, told Chris how sorry she was for running into his daughter. Then they talked about how smart Jesse was in her classes during high school. (Guess it takes one to know one - both 18. Both geniuses.) Neither Molly, Jesse, or their grandmother wanted Amber to be contacted though -- some sort of weird group-think humiliation they had going on. Guess they felt that when one's family member is hit while riding their bicycle yet not killed, the accident becomes the victim's fault and the victim should go away and hide under a paperbag.

Rather than be upset at innocent little undie-flaunting (you know I'm really jealous?) Amber, the family chose to be upset at Chris. Chris thought he was doing the right thing since his daughter was hit, bruised and swollen and in shock after the bicycle accident though certainly doing what you think may be the right thing is difficult when your entire family is against you, telling you not to go through with it, not to make waves. It's easy to forget that just two years ago this month (almost.to.the.day.), the family was gathered by Molly's bedside in the emergency room with her screaming from the pain caused by a compound fracture as a result of the last motorist that hit her. 

The only way Chris would fair better with his family in this situation is if he was the one who got hit while riding the bicycle. 

'Live' Blog the Inaug with Amy and Martha

(Martha (the dog) is our resident fashion expert.)

 After starting an ichat with Amy, my sister-in-law, I decided we should live-blog the inaug. (rhyme!) 

Below is our convo for what it's worth. Sorry it's so lengthy. Blame the media.

AIM IM with Amy 1/20/09 8:29 AM

This is amazing. Are you watching? www.msnbc.com I hope you're watching it live.

Yes! I'm watching on cnn.com -- look at all of the people!

it is amazing. And so life affirming and chilling to the bone. I am almost tearful.

I am tearful(!)

I called my friend Jennifer and left her a msg. She is there. She is so lucky. I was crying on the phone.  We have to be quiet now. They are walking down. I want to hear the crowd when he comes out.

Yes!!!

If any freaks (aka customers) call, I'm not answering. (GWB starts walking down) People are booing!!!!!!! omg! how sad. That is awful.

Bush looks so sad. And alone! Michelle looks so gorgeous!

(stupid phones) Keep ringing. One after another. omg here he comes! shit booooooooooooooooo  (in honor of GWB)

We should have put a message on saying to watch the inauguration! (GWB again) throw a shoe!

Ha ha!

Keith Olbermann is on msnbc and he says, "this is all happening" These folks are pretty left-wingers. I love them. That cheney, what a dick. Faking it in his wheelchair. I'm sure it's some sort of emotional pain.

My oh my! Hurt his back moving!

or he wants to dodge any bullets that may fly! (Obama enters picture) Power tie! (RED!)

no shit! he is beautiful!

He is!!! nancy pelosi!   I like the grey!

Ha ha!

Poor Tom and Laur and everyone with James! (rest of work in meeting with regional rep)

Diane... I'm not THAT fond of Diane Feinstein. Yes, those poor guys in the mtg. Lauren should have called in sick

Wow -- I wonder how many people are there?!

Millions! I hope they get this going. I have not had my coffee! A bunch of dead white males! (aka DWM)

Oh my! No coffee?!

and one black man. What a treat! Oh, wait, there's another black guy. dead white male = old cronie with the same ole attitude she's crying.

Who is crying? (some woman in the crowd was crying)

wait. someone is phoning right now. assholes! I'm not answering. crowd is loud! but still, a woman. How grand is this? (Diane Feinstein is speaking) (more phones)

OMG -- love it! He looks so solemn(!)

(I am distracted by phones!) These people who are calling must be republicans or racists.

Unplug them!

I hate Rick Warren..if he says Jesus, he's in trouble.

I don't like him either!

Well, this prayer seems directed toward the Christians.

Yes...

Thank god! (haha) (Jesus was reference by several names (Yahweh etc.) at the end of the prayer because Warren thinks there  are no other religions but his.)

Whoa! Good choice! (Aretha comes out to sing)

Yes, (stupid phones) Hardly anyone clapped for Rick Saddlebags Love her hat!

yes. Amazing hat. (Aretha's hat - to die for) That's some bow!

She has always been one of my fav artists.

Yes, she is such a great talent.

8:59 AM

I'm nervous!Oh my -- what a treat! yes! Itzak P. and I have the same chin. I bet you could hear a pin drop in the audience. I got to see Yoyo Ma once.

Ha ha! How intellectual! What a lovely diverse group!

9:06 AM

Are you crying?

No -- I was worrying about the fact that the guy saying the words messed up (!) Are you?

I was.

It looks cold!

Yes, they said lots of folks had been out there since 2 a.m. and had hypothermia.

EGAD!

"They will be met!" ( a quote from Obama's speech) Yes!!!

YES!

9:37 AM

Ah the Benediction: "in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen." Amen! That was funny!

Ha ha!

US. Naval Sea Shanty Chorus? Going for Coffee. Ranell is here now.

Get that man behind bullet proof walls!

9:57 AM

Keith Olbermann said in response to GWB leaving. "And to all a good night."

That is hialarious!

10:03 AM

Obama is left-handed.

Whoa -- that's right!

That ought to cause some commotion. That way we can't see what he's writing.

I wonder what is for lunch!

10:11 AM

tuna melts no, hotdogs eeeek

10:33 AM

Did you see the food yet?

No! Did you?!

We're guessing. Tuna Salad Nicoise or beef wellington.

NO VEGGIE MEAL?!

Ted Kennedy! I heard he was there.

Can I pick out the tuna?!

He must be feeling ok

I saw him!

Wait..you get delicata squash, wild rice, olives, tofu and corn. with pine nuts

Yummy!!!!!!!!!!

I can't believe they are talking about the food too.

Apparently that was the page most viewed on the inauguration web site!

yes, I heard.

How could ya even eat at a time like this (if you were prez...)?

Seafood stew - scallops, shrimp, lobster with a puff pastry top... paired with Duckhorn Vineyards, 2007 Sauvignon Blanc, Napa Valley Second course A brace of American birds: Duck breast with sour cherry chutney and Herb roasted pheasant with wild rice stuffingwith Molasses whipped sweet potatoesand Winter vegetables ... paired with Goldeneye, 2005 Pinot Noir, Anderson Valley Third course Cinnamon apple sponge cake and sweet cream glace... paired with Korbel natural "special inaugural cuvee" California Champagne. I could eat!

OH MY GAWD. Sounds fabulous!

I told ran if I were there, I'd be tapping my foot saying "What's for lunch?"

Ha ha!

molasses whipped sweet potatoes yum

I'm so hungry!

I had a boiled egg and coffee

I had coffee! I think I need a mocha or something. Don't we get to watch them eat?!?!?!?!

Give Me One Thing to Believe In

I watched that HBO inauguration special and cried through the whole darn thing. First I chalked my emotions off on menopause. Then I thought I might be lonely but I was not lonely -- only alone. When it came down to my own (crazed) analysis, I was filled with pride and so pleased. All these goofy songs about America that made me feel patriotic for the first time that I can remember although maybe I felt patriotic as a child. There is such a feeling of hope. 

Earlier in the day I told someone "Happy Inauguration!" and he sort of grumbled at me about how he didn't watch the news and was going to surf on Tuesday.  Not a Republican -- just more of a CouldCarelessican I guess. Not interested in the hype. Is this what eight years of delusional thinking from our government has caused? Or too much pot smoke and salt water? Screw him and the surfboard he rode in on! 

I listened to NPR do a story where they were interviewing the head of Howard University's band director  -- one of the bands in the inaugural parade. He said they had chosen a song, Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered" originally but found that many other bands had also chosen that song so this band chose a different song by Diana Ross, The Boss. I started tearing up. The Boss. It's about goddamn time.

The Devil You Know...

Chris is going to Italy in March. I'm sad because last time he went there, has asked me to go with him. In fact the last two times he went to Italy he asked me to go with him. We even found a favorite hotel in The Netherlands when we first landed and returned to the same hotel on our second trip. My first trip to Italy was a dream come true, the first time I had ever been to Europe.

This trip I'm not invited -- though to be fair, the flight would not be a good idea with my lymphedema. Flying has been known to exacerbate the symptoms of lymphedema. Lately I have had several non-life-threatening (yet) infections and do not need to cause further damage.

Nevertheless, I am troubled about the trip though I'm trying to be an adult about it. What choice do I have? I feel left out. From our (before-any-real-trouble-starts) couples therapy, I guess I'd say that I'm disappointed. Disappointment is supposed to be okay, it's just uncomfortable while you move through it. I can't decide exactly why I'm disappointed except that I will miss Chris for those 2.5 weeks though if he were here, we'd probably see each other daily, and be boring as per. He would occasionally move in to kiss me with his very sharp, bristly beard and I would complain that kissing him is like kissing a barbeque grill cleaning brush. I'm disappointed because the adult part of me really wants Chris to have a great time on this trip though the little kid inside of me is really sad that Chris is going to Italy with someone else who just happens to be Satan.

Chris made plans to go to Italy with a friend of his who treated me like shit during the last trip to Italy. This friend, Satan came along for part of the trip and ruined it with his 'tude. If Chris were honest, Satan ruined the trip for him too. That explanation is the shortest, mature-as-I-can-force-myself-to-be-under-the-circumstances version of the story; the only part I will tell because the long version is painful, fiery, smokey, dusty, nasty and mean. Suffice it to say the guy was a Class A jerk. (Don't know what a Class B jerk or Class C is etc...)

Chris later tried to explain away the shitty behavior of his friend by telling me that he felt Satan wished that I had been Chris's dead wife (only alive still). Alas. I was on the heals of losing my own husband a few years earlier. I guess I was supposed to take Satan's horrendous behavior as a sign of his unrelenting grief over Chris's wife's death in 2003. You know, just buck up and be a man about it? -- Not open my mouth for the one full week of hell we spent with him (while he rode in the back seat of our way-too-small-rented car, body shoved up hard against a set of wheels that Chris bought at the swap meet when I wanted to shove those wheels up his surly ass?) Didn't I deserve some patience and kindness for my own loss or are those perks only reserved for thoughtless, self-centered jerks?

I wanted Chris to dislike Satan for the way he treated me but he wouldn't. (I have some issues with control okay?) Even if Satan were grieving over Chris's dead wife, that's no excuse to treat me like crap. Chris says their group always invites Satan on these swap meet trips because Satan helps them haul the stuff they buy -- like a raging, nasty gorilla moving through the crowd of crinklely old Italian men hawking their ancient car parts -- certainly one of the foundations for true male friendship.

I'm glad I can use the unpleasant side-effects of flying and it's effects on lymphedema to hide behind as a reason I can't go with Chris because if I couldn't use that excuse I would know that we've reached the point in our relationship where I know it's more fun for him to go to Italy with an asshole than to invite me, and I am afraid to find out what that says about me.

Losing Weight the Hard Way

A couple of months ago my sister had weight loss surgery. So far she's lost 43 lbs. She's looking good, feeling much better without extra weight. Last night I told Chris about her weight loss totals to which he replied, "Wow, what would YOU give to lose 43 lbs!?!" I thought about it for a moment and made some wise crack. 

After mulling his question over briefly this morning, I realized to lose 43 lbs (give or take) I could remove my brain, cut off both breasts, gouge out my mouth, slice out my vah-j-j, and the total could be a pretty hefty chunk of weight. 

"I Love Pink Dumb!"

Hannah is here this morning for a short visit. First we chewed some pink gum. Then she wanted me to go over to 'Bammah's' house and play inside her little tent (remember the melamine tent?) though I'm really supposed to be working. I guess spending time with her inside the tent *might* be described as work. 

Trying to understand what Hannah is saying is certainly not easy so one might call that work though it's really just a bit more of a challenge. I like hanging out with her regardless. I know she knows what she is saying and that matters way more than me knowing what she's saying. When she asks for gum, she says, "POD, got any pink dumb?" Even if I didn't have any gum, I could answer that question in the affirmative. I gots a lot a dumb.

Someone gave Hannah a little make-up kit that comes in a sparkly pink box with a big gold ribbon. First thing Hannah's 'Bammah' did was check to see if the make-up was made in China. The sparkly pink box says it's made in China but the actual make-up comes from Australia. (Any melamine there?) 

Should I apply garish pink nail polish and blue eye shadow on a 3 year old? Too bad, I'm doing it! By the time the poor self-esteem issues set in and yo-yo dieting begin, I'll be long gone -- oh, wait, maybe not! If I'm gone Hannah will remember me for my pink dumb and my Kevin Aucoin-like ability to apply make-up. (Kevin is dead now though he was a great make-up artist. I bet he could make me look like Hannah if he were alive and willing. Talk about a challenge.)

At least Hanna took the time to do her hair today unlike someone else I know.

Thank Kneesus!

I have been suffering for the past couple of months from debilitating knee pain. I wear made-to-order compression hose, and bandaging for existing lymphedema but the compression hose don't support a knee that doesn't want to work. I went to the doctor after weeks of pain where she diagnosed me with knee tendonitis and told me not to walk or run (yeah, right, Dreamer). I stopped walking regularly except to my car to drive to work. The doctor said I'd have to seriously take care of the knee and avoid jarring movements. Often when I'd rise out of a chair the pain was so intense I wanted to scream. I like to believe I have a high threshold for pain. So much for faith.

I read Louise Hay to see what she had to say (condemn me for) about my knee and of course, everything wrong with me according to her book, You Can Heal Your Life; all my ailments and illnesses are a result of my refusal to move forward in life, my inflexibility, my fear, my ego and pride. Hip pain, knee pain, cancer, aging, sarcasm...let's face it, Louise Hay hates my guts. And I'm not sure I'm that fond of her either.

After talking to another friend a week ago (a former nurse) she asked if I had iced my knee and I told her "no." The doctor never mentioned ice. She said my injury was beyond the point where icing would help. That night, I starting icing my knee (not with frosting though I was tempted.)

A few days ago, my knee started to feel less pain when I awoke in the morning. I didn't trust the feeling at first. Even with less pain, I'd ice my knee, put on the bandaging and go about my day. Finally two days ago, I started actually talking to my knee and thanking it for holding me up all these years, expressing this sort of gratitude toward my knee for feeling better. (Don't worry, I was alone.) I'd lean over to my knee, post ice, rub it, and start talking to it. I was that desperate to feel better.

And now the pain is almost gone. Seriously.

Do you think this is just a silly coincidence? Maybe I should talk to other parts of my body. I could talk to my wrinkles or my droopy boobs and whip this body back into shape!

Ahoy Me Mateys!

This past weekend, Chris got the idea that we should go some place. He was thinking since I had so much time off over the holidays, I needed to get away (don't know from what). Normally when I have time off, I like to kick back and do nothing. But Chris gets ants in his pants. He gets them so bad he can't stand for me to sit still. We decided against the snow, too cold, too crowded. We drove toward San Simeon where Hearst has his castle.  I'm over the castle thing. I could care less. (I know, bad attitude.)  I know the gardens are lovely. Blahblahblah.

We drove in one of Chris's other Fiats. The x/19. I have to curl up like a pretzel to get into this car though once inside, I can stretch out and be comfortable. It's the kind of car where if he pulls up to a curb, I can simply roll out and land on the curb rather than lift my body out of the seat to get up and out of the car. The car is so short in height there is not much of an up to get, thus my innovative roll-out method. People stare at us in this car too but this car does not quite have the Messerschmitt appeal. Along the way to San Simeon we stopped to drool at the swag at Nepenthe where people seemed to really want to reminisce with Chris about their old Fiats, ... oh, and make funny, knee-slapping remarks about "Fix-it-again, Tony!" hahahahahahahahaha 

*eyeball roll*

We met a pirate in the town of Cayucos. I asked if he'd take our picture but he seemed bored with the idea. Then yesterday, the SF Chronicle came out with an article called Kick back in Cayucos. 

Even in a Fiat, we're trendsetters.