Life is What Happens...

Today I'm blogging here at Smaller Fun Pants. So go read it and don't give me a hard time. Don't be rude and not read it cuz I wrote it with you in mind unless it has nothing to do with you in which case don't take it personally and don't get mad and just chill.


I was asked to write a guest post for Anne (by Anne) who calls herself Smaller Fun Pants because that's what she wears and now I wear them too! Anne is having fibroid removal surgery today and recovering this week. She's going to name her fibroid and show it to us during show N tell.


 Anne has been very dear to me though I never met her. I was attracted to the name of her blog a couple of years ago and started reading it and making my snide comments. She gave me her cell number in case I had issues at the Denver airport a year ago in August when I went there for the women with cancer retreat. I didn't call her though I know I could and I don't have to wait for a crisis.

Hannah wearing her Smaller Fun Pants

Go read it!

Hannah Loves Justin Beaver

Hannah dancing to Justin Bieber's song baby. (Hannah thinks his last name is Beaver.)

"You know you love me, I know you care

Just shout whenever, And I'll be there

You want my love, You want my heart

And we will never ever ever be apart"

The dance has to start somewhere

I am Lady Gaga aka Justin Beaver's girlfriend

Get a load of these hands? They perform magic.

"For you, I would have done whatever
And I just can't believe, we ain't together..."

Once last time - with feeling
(Don't you love the torn fabric on the chair arm?)

Laying on an office chair in final end-of-song prayer

Hannah was laying on the floor at one point during the song, contorting/ performing. She asked me, "Jan, can you do this?" As if. My knees creaked and groaned. I don't think I can get down on the floor let alone bend my legs like that. I think my bones would have to be broken first and then I could do it. Capturing these photos was an opportunity of a lifetime. Hannah can be shy believe it or not.

Now You See It...

Hannah practicing her letters at work

Over this past weekend, I saw two of my favorite people in the whole world: Bella and Hannah. 


First we went to the coffee shop to have our ritual coffee & hot cocoa. Then we went to the dog park in Scotts Valley with my sister (my 3rd favorite person in the whole world). At the dog park, we got slammed into by assorted slobber-filled, rough-playing dogs. What's especially fun is when the dogs are enormous like St. Bernards or a Great Pyrenees. They frolic and chase after each other - so fun to watch and be a part of. Then one or more dogs slams into your arthritic knee even though you are standing off to one side, frozen in place trying to avoid piles of dogdoo. Ah, what fun that is.


We met other corgis too; a rare sighting. One corgi at the dog park named Pickle, a blond who was two years older than Bella yet still smaller than Bella. Then Bella and I met a corgi who was 9 months old and twice the size of Bella, very fudge-pudgy. I figured the dog to be closer to 10 years old than still a puppy. There but for the grace of dog, go I.


My sister and I are both bone-y now. We sometimes refer to one-another as Cecil and Bobby, two great aunts crones by the time we grew up. Cecil was an artist with a hairy chin and beautiful translucent skin. Rumor has it that Uncle Ivan met Aunt Bobby because she was a hooker (don't fight me on this mom). Aunt Bobbie had a man's name, smoked ciggies and laughed a lot. All I know for sure is that they both were boney, old, odd and we loved them. On Aunt Bobbie's death bed, she told my sister to be nice to me. I think my sister listened.

Fathead viewer

My sister bought me a new pair of jeans. See how kind is that? She's tired of seeing me in the same pants I wore before surgery. My weight has come off so quickly since June it's impossible for my mind to wrap around my size. Though I don't think my mind ever wrapped around my size. I have no idea what I look like (except for flat boobs and a droopy neck that Hannah likes to pull on because pulling an old woman's neck is akin to a thrill ride at the boardwalk -- plus I'm at that age where my neck stays in place - exactly in the position where Hannah left when she became distracted by my batwings) though I'm sure that I'm much smaller than I was before the surgery. But as I've told some people, I'm still viewing the world through a fathead. 


That's another thing gastric bypass does aside from allowing ultra-fast weight-loss (assuming you're not eating pizza and hamburgers post-surgery), curing assorted co-morbidities (such as diabetes, asthma, GERD, etc.) and stitching your stomach to prune-size. The surgery speeds up weight-loss so fast that the mind can't catch up. And thankfully, neither can my wallet.

Rogue in The Master Puppeteer

We find Rogue chummy-ing up to her one-legged sister. Rogue is showing her kind, compassionate nature by allowing the sister to slide down the slide first though we only witness this kindness on the surface. Knowing Rogue's sister the way we do, just before the mother said "say cheese," sister nailed Rogue in the face with her razor sharp elbow in an effort to be the ONLY person on the slide that day.


In this episode Rogue discovers someone else is pulling all the strings. Plus, this was the last time Rogue wore a dress.

For those of you who have no life, catch up on previous Rogue episodes below:
Going Rogue
Rogue Comes Clean
Further Adventures of Rogue
Time for this One to Come Home
A Leg Up
Family Portrait
Aloha Oe

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Love how she looks though it's not a good photo

I spent some delightful time with Hannah on Friday. She was huggy,  kid-like and cute. We sucked on small candies (sugar-free). We were in the office together with Bella. I work alone most Fridays so we have the run of the place. We listened to the video of  "Who let the dogs out?" We danced.

Later in the afternoon, she hugged me and said, "Aunt Jan, you smell bad" - that was a real confidence boost. I told her my deodorant failed. Obviously. Reminds me that I need to teach Hannah some manners which mostly means when people smell bad, you need to plug your nose and lie.

Hidden Treasures

I have a friend who lives on my road named Kathy. Kathy's married to Mike who I've known and talked to for years. When I received the cancer diagnosis and phoned all the people I'd ever met in my life, Kathy was one of those people though I think I hadn't met her before I called her. She's a great listener and had worked hospital administration so she knew some of the quacks doctors. After getting through chemo, and other pieces of my life, I recently reconnected with Kathy. Actually Kathy's using me because she loves Bella, my dog and I'm using her as a friend.


About once a week I'll walk Bella up (it's uphill, dammit) to their house -- not very far away and Kathy always insists on driving us back because that way we have maximum time to visit even if I protest and say I need to walk (which I do though one helluva lot further than Kathy's house). Bella goofs around their house while we visit, playing with their previous dog's toys, and threatens their 35lb cat who reminds me of a Macy's parade float. He actually is a lot like a corgi though, big on the top with tiny little legs. I told Kathy not to take the cat to the vet or she'd be turned in for animal cruelty. I used to be embarrassed about my cat who was diabetic - the cat that I killed. If anyone saw her running waddling across the road, a passerby might call animal services and report me for animal cruelty. My cat's furry stomach hit the ground. Kathy's cat appears to float. He's helium-filled. For this cat's sake, thank goodness they don't have knees.

I took Hannah to Kathy's house the last time she was visiting me -- with Bella too, of course. I asked Kathy to show Hannah some of her craft work. Kathy makes cards, crochets. I'm not sure what all she does. I know the woman is talented. She makes tiny little hats for babies out of the softest yarn. I could have used one of these hats during chemo when I was bald. *hint* Anyway, Hannah was pretty open to meeting Kathy. First they shared some sort of treat or several treats while I stayed out of the kitchen area. Then Hannah started nosing her way around Kathy's house, looking for good stuff in the nooks and crannies. Hannah found a jar of buttons akin to a treasure chest. Kathy gave Hannah a baggie to put her riches into and Hannah carefully chose from the jar, some of the most shiniest jewels (read buttons). Then Hannah tried to get me involved in the heist. She kept calling Kathy, Kaffy, the same way she calls PK's dog, Bailey, Brittany. Kaffy would go wherever Hannah was inside her house, treasure hunting, and talk to her about the latest discovery. Hannah came away with a ceramic cat (not a Macy's parade version) and a baggie full of loot.


Bella sniffing around looking as if she needed to pee, long having given up the search for the infamous fatcat, Hannah proudly holding a baggie full of "treasures," her belly freshly loaded with some of Kaffy's treats, I knew we had to leave or we'd need a truck to haul stuff away. I insisted we walk home carrying the prized possessions which knowing a 5 year old the way I do, probably got tossed on her bedroom floor once she arrived back in her own home. She shares her bedroom with her two step-sisters. Probably feels like prison. (my projection)

Since meeting Hannah, Kathy sent an email saying that she was looking at poncho patterns for 5 year olds when she really should be crocheting me a poncho. I thought...shoot, I've known you longer than Hannah, crochet me a poncho!  What a precious thought! Kathy is a hidden treasure. I'm grateful to have discovered her again. 


I wrote back, "A poncho in assorted colors or pink!" because Hannah is 5 years old, she loves the color pink though it's also been my experience that Hannah will take just about anything she can get her hands on if her baggie is large enough.

Anything to Do With Anything

A friend of mine got soused over the weekend. I told this friend that the next time this happens, (and I witness any of it) I'm going to get out my video camera and film them just like David Hasselhoff's daughter filmed The Hoff drunk while attempting to eat a hamburger. I can hardly wait. I better get fresh batteries.

This is the url for the folks who took part in Winosandfoodies sponsored A Taste of Yellow. It's fun to look through all the different photos, recipes and stories that inspired folks to take part in the project for LiveSTRONG 2010.

I didn't do much over the weekend in the way of leisure activities (except lay in bed and read) away from home though with my son's help, we attempted to batten down the hatches before winter - didn't know I lived on ship did you? The weather has been good, warm today with a glorious blue sky. And no one with which I'm aware is drunk (at least nearby) so today is a day of gratitude. It's also Hannah's mom's birthday. Happy birthday, old woman! She phoned and I sang her the happy birthday song. Then I told her she was old. Then she said "I know, doesn't it make *you* feel old?" And I said, "No, it makes me feel like YOU are old!" Tonight we will go out to dinner to celebrate. I'm excited. I can buy a meal that will last the entire week.

The photos today were taken by Jesse while he was in Greece this summer. He was there for 80 days working on an architect assignment. Jesse is my x's son. I've known him since he was 13 and he's now in his 2nd year at Boston. We stay in contact by phone, email and facebook. I'm happy for the relationship. These two photos he took are my favorites.

Since it's fall season I've been thinking a lot about who first started putting pumpkin in coffee? Why didn't they try zucchini first or did they? I'm going to try to find the connection. This really has me puzzled. Not that this has anything to do with anything.

Food for Thought

I had a peach. I put about a t. of butter in a frying pan. I sliced the whole peach into thin slices. I took about 4 T of whole grain pancake mix (Arrowhead Mills, I think). I mixed that with water, some cinnamon, some Torani sugar free brown sugar/cinnamon syrup and and about 3/4 scoop of protein powder. I mixed this all together, threw the batter on top of the bubbling peach in the frying pan. Cooked the mess like a pancake though it was still slightly runny. Turned over what I could using the spatula. Made sure it was cooked. Threw it in a container and now I'm eating it. I call it Peach Protein pancake awe. Cuz I'm in awe that it tastes decent, has some good protein and is a morning breakfast I can get into that is not a liquid drink. 

On my way to work I stopped at the local store, picked up some milk. They have a huge donut, scone, muffin section which I had thought about raiding prior to making my peachy pancake. I made the pancake to keep myself from raiding the donut section because I knew I was going to the store to get milk. I would not have purchased a donut. I would have purchased a muffin or something slightly sweet and sconey and would have been able to eat a couple of bites at the most. What's kind of nice is that the best part of my breakfast *is* the peach though post-WLS you're really not supposed to eat much fruit (veges first!). When you actually eat a piece of fruit, it tastes amazing.

Accumulating nonsense

While at the local store I was forced into talking to Tom, the produce guy who said "give [me]some sugar." We hugged. I had not seen him in months. Then he starting talking about watching the porn channel and how much money those women with the dicks must make. I often wonder about middle-aged men. And sometimes when I hear them speak, I'm stunned. 

Snaggle-Toothed Attack Corgis

I've been taking Bella to Its beach frequently. Saturday morning I drove there without PK and her dogs. There is a whole group of people drinking coffee and eating donuts. Oh, and dogs. More dogs that I can count. I'd driven down the hill early to get a cup of coffee. My cell phone was dead so I couldn't contact anyone to meet me or make any arrangements for anything via phone communication. Hello 911? Danger? Are there any pay phones anywhere? Oh, well. Doesn't much matter. I got my coffee, thought about driving back home, then made a quick turnaround at Blue Ball park to head back toward the beach. The visit was part of a mellow morning with all of the dogs, the dog-loving people. It was nice to get out there.

But before Saturday, on Thursday afternoon, both PK and I took all three dogs to the beach and I took some photos. I was having a good time and the dogs really just get out there in that sand, and go nuts, running, playing, getting sandy and filling my car up with sand.

While at the beach on Thursday, a mom and her young daughter came walking around the cove, and Bella, of course, ran up to the girl because Bella loves 5 year olds. Seriously, I can tell your age by whether Bella likes you or not. So the 5 year old girl starts immediately screaming. Bella is sort of jumping around being a corgi though not jumping on the girl. The mom is consoling her daughter because Bella is a trained attack corgi and these folks are in fear for their lives. I tell them that Bella won't hurt them. But they can't hear me over the screaming and crying. The 5 year old is still letting out blood curdling screams (practicing for her part in the local haunted house). The mom was focused, as she should be, on her child. I was focused on my attack corgi and then I said "Why did you bring your child to a dog beach?" (I was having difficulty with the connection there). I walked away from them leading my vicious, blood sucking, snarling, snaggle-toothed attack corgi by my side. Later I thought about how I needed to be compassionate toward this screaming child and her befuddled mom with the waves and the sand and the wind and all the attack dogs at the beach though it was far too late for compassion (in person) at that point. There is always a next time.

On the drive home, we ran into someone who was hauling a huge modular (read trailer) home. The home was blocking the entire road so my neighbors and I all had a quick klatch in the weeds while from the back seat of the vertical hotrod, vicious Bella sat ready to pounce if someone made a move.

LiveSTRONG With A Taste of Yellow - Saturday Oct 2, 2010

Matt trying to appear normal, post chemo session

A coworker of mine went to the emergency room a few months back with horrendous pain - turned out the pain came from a broken rib he didn't realize he had. This broken rib seemed to come from out of the blue (though it really came out of his ribcage). While in the hospital doctors found a mass in Matt's lung opposite the side of his broken rib. When we heard the news we were all perplexed, stunned, devastated. Matt was diagnosed with  stage 4 metastatic melanoma. He's 43 years old. He has two young kids and a lovely, talented wife, Julie. 


Matt lives in the central valley. He's a solid family guy (or so he seems probably a big act to throw me off). He loves to ride his bike and (as far as I am aware) has ridden a bike ride for charity at least three times, a total of nearly 1000 miles from southern to northern California) to help World Vision, an organization that provides relief aide to other countries. The money raised on those rides went towards children in Africa who had been orphaned by the AIDS virus. Go Matt!  Matt's a typical mid-life kinda guy. Work, church, family. I never gave him much thought because I was so busy doing nothing. Meh. My sister's the nice one. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Matt just finished the fourth of six total, week-long chemo sessions known as biochemotherapy. He has to undergo these week long sessions of bio-chemotherapy while in intensive care. He has a resting two week period in-between each session. The bio-chemo includes 5 different drugs - Interleukin-2 (or IL2), Interferon, Cisplatin, Velban, and Temodar. While in the hospital, Matt receives a dose of each of the chemo meds every night around 6 p.m.  Except for the IL2 which runs 24 hours for 5 days.  After 6 treatments of chemo, Matt will go on a "maintenance dose" of just the IL2 once a month for 48 hours in the hospital for one full year. 

Matt walking with his kids after one of his big rides

The reason I'm writing about Matt is because ever since I found out about his cancer diagnosis, my heart has grown bigger (not from heart disease either, smartiepants) for Matt and his family. The tears come more easily when I think of what this family must endure. My heart breaks though the oncologist told them after the last PET scan that the tumors had shrunk 50%. This is great news! Matt sent my sister (aka the nice one) a txt msg that said "The doctor says we are winning this one!" I cried again.


Because I had cancer and think I'm an expert on many things, I told Matt about my personal selection for a cancer cure - those tiny ice cream Dove Bars and he went out and bought some. From work we sent him boxes of See's candy to see if they would help cure, and then just a few weeks ago, I sent him a box of candy boogers because I figured he hadn't tried those yet and candy boogers might be a miracle cure. Matt thanked me for the boogers and said, "Great, now my kids want to eat my boogers." The way I see it, we don't know what will cure cancer though we can try creative ways and we need to remain open to the possibilities. Plus I don't know why the doctor is claiming a 50% reduction in tumors from his treatment with chemo when it could just as easily be the mix of Dove bars, candy boogers and See's candy.

I think about Matt nearly every day. I think about his kids, his wife and this suffering they must go through. And I am annoyed because I'd rather think about anything else but cancer and someone  who is suffering. There is so much suffering and their suffering somehow becomes my suffering and my heart breaks and I weep for all the suffering. I used to be able to eat when I was sad. Dammit. 


I made lemon poppyseed muffins for LiveSTRONG with a Taste of Yellow, (a recipe I found on Joy the Baker, adapted from the book Baking).  Because I had gastric bypass surgery this past June, and have lost a buttload, muffinload boatload of pounds since surgery, I can't eat too many muffins. So I'll be sending my muffins (no weird innuendo intended) to Matt in the central valley as another contribution to his cure. These muffins are certain to taste far better than a box of  boogers. You never know if lemon poppyseed muffins combined with candy boogers, much like a combo of chemo drugs, will kill a pesty cancer cell. I'm betting that my cooking may well be one of the missing links.


Photos of Matt used with permission from Lodi Design House.