Good News, Bad News

Yesterday was Hannah's 6th birthday. I was invited to celebrate with them last night. She opened a pile of presents --enough gifts to outfit a shelter of homeless kids. She wanted us to sing happy birthday during her dinner, not just when cutting the cake. She hugged me and told me that I smelled good which was a miracle because I had not showered that day.


This morning I'm filled with sadness because our co-worker, Matt died this morning. I tried curing him with all sorts of strange things and none of my "cures" worked. He recently turned 44 years old.


I wrote about Matt for A Taste of Yellow last October. He died of metastatic melanoma so put on your GD sunscreen. He leaves behind his young, beautiful wife, Julie and his two lively children among assorted tons of other family members. He leaves behind us and we are sad.

Photo courtesy of LodiDesignStudios

The last time I talked to Matt was two days ago. When I say "talked," I mean exchanged emails. He sent my sister an email saying he was back in the hospital and they wanted to do more brain surgery. I said something like "How can they do brain surgery on something that doesn't exist?" Or some such compliment. I never heard back though Matt would have smiled. Turned out they could not operate because they found a large blood clot in his lung. Just yesterday the doctor came in and said it was time to stop treatment (in other words it was time to stop the torture). The doctor's announcement must have been the permission Matt needed to stop fighting. He wanted so badly to stay alive for his family. Can you blame him?


In an email to my sister, Matt wrote, "Get some work done. I'll beat this thing..."


Brain or no brain, Matt, you will be missed by many.

Careful What You Wish For

We are left on the ground with empty arms. Staring into the sky.

Therese Johannesson 

Over the past couple of months my niece was feeling a bit dissatisfied at the hair salon where she worked so she decided to open her own place. At the old salon there was some politicking going on that made her feel uncomfortable. She decided to set out on her own, opening her own shop. She found a quaint (tiny, needs work) shop on the other side of town between a scuba dive shop and an environmental business. The landlord, a man and his wife owned the building and worked in both the scuba shop and at the environment business that actually sandwiched the hair salon. Lots of people and business coming in and out especially to the dive shop. 


Opening day for the hair salon was July 5th, a Tuesday. Lots of elbow grease, hard work, money, and late nights working while the kids stayed with grandma. Special preview opening for stylists was held on  Sunday, July 2nd. Ran sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers.


I stopped by the new salon on July 7th, a Thursday, to pick up Hannah, take her back up the mountain to my house so Bella, Hannah and I could hang out. When I pulled up to the salon with the top down on the VW, sun-shining bright, the girls, Hannah and her wicked step-sisters rushed the car along with a white standard poodle that belonged to the landlord, the man who was standing just inside the door of his environmental business watching all he commotion in our arrival. His assistant, a woman came out to greet Bella. She loves corgis! Who doesn't? It was a big moment of chaos though lots of fun, this greeting. Everyone was excited, the dogs nuzzling each other. One of the stepsisters wanted to go with us. I said "Not enough room in the car. Sorry."


We said goodbye to the ebullient assistant and their big white poodle, the wicked step-sisters. I remember we had a great afternoon. Hannah, Bradley, me and Bella hung out. Bradley had put his arms around Hannah in greeting, a very sweet moment. I remember wishing I'd had my camera but I was too lazy to get it out of the car. That very afternoon while we were having fun at my house, the man who had been watching our joyful chaos in the parking lot, and his family were killed in a plane crash in Watsonville.


My niece is still in her new salon, alone most days except for people visiting the scuba dive shop to leave flowers and offerings of grief. Both the environmental business and the scuba shop are closed. I visited my niece yesterday. I walked over to the scuba shop where there are messages on the windows written from friends and family on the windows, mementos, fresh and dead flowers, expressions of grief.


My niece opened her own salon; she was diligent and worked hard, accomplishing the dream of owning her own place There'll be no politicking at this new place -- for the present, not a soul to bother her at all.

Turning Point

“It’s disheartening when I go for occasional lymphedema treatments and you see people who are not really living a life that is very full. Of course, I would love people to see me and be like, ‘Listen: I’m not an exception. I’m just stubborn.’"

Deborah Cordner

I found someone who's quasi-famous and admits (proudly!?) that they have lymphedema.


Deborah Cordner believes the right activities help her manage lymphedema. 
(While I believe it's safe to say that the right activities help us manage life.)


Read Deborah's story From 16 to Zero and Back. 


And more inspiration here.


Feel inspired. 
And while you're at it, try not to whine. 
Whining never makes anything better.
 *whine*


See?


I once was in a support group with a whiner. Each month was the same whine. Nobody knows the troubles I've seen etc. It was a post-cancer treatment group. I thought I was dying but each time this woman spoke, I knew life was going to end soon enough, either for her or for me.


I finally said something to try to encourage her to STFU. I'm not sure she ever STFU'd (didn't seem like the person who'd actually 'get it' though I do not hear her whining anymore. When I hear other people whining it causes me to bristle which is a sort of physical whining I suppose. I guess I have to figure out a way to stop my own physically whining. Maybe physical whining can be managed by doing the right activities. Revelation!

Tea for Two Year-olds

Bradley turned 2 years old in April. I had just met him around that time. He continues to amaze me. Last night he dropped by for a visit and a spot of "tea."


First we put on our music which is usually Michael Franti's Crazy, Crazy, Crazy. Then as I slave cook the microwave popcorn over our food, we layer the towels set the table with the tea set. When the microwave buzzer sounds our food is finally prepared, we sit down to enjoy our repast and talk of the days events.

Feeding Bella a fine cheese blend of hand filth & dog hair

Waiting patiently whilst singing Crazy, Crazy, Crazy

Pouring the "tea" (check out the manicure)

(tea) which is really blood orange soda

Tea table setting consists of 33 layers of toweling - like the princess and the tpea

Flinging popcorn out of the bowl

Okay, 5 minutes have passed. What do we do now?

Oh, the Drama of it All

I'm doing well. Though not in the mood to write about doing well. I've been knitting (Shelley's new scowl), walking the dog, working on the road (because the county is too broke to do the work) and visiting with neighbors. I met new neighbors this past Sunday. They invited me over for wine and horses-doovers. They invited the neighbors that live next to my house which I've lived next to since 1993 but never really talked with them much. We are out in the middle of no-where so the next door neighbor could be a mile away (or not).


I'm dealing with slight inner turmoil; drama derived from association with a family member who is dealing with a close friend who has a disorder. This disorder has caused issues though I'm still living life and keeping drama at bay as much as possible. This too, shall pass.


My client from Womencare died on July 3rd. I didn't cry but not because I am unfeeling. It's because I was prepared for her death. She seemed to not want to live anymore. So not crying for someone who wants to be dead made sense to me. It's a long(er) story. (boring!)


I guess I'm on a blogcation of sorts.
Watch, now something will happen and I'll feel compelled to blather on about it.
Oh, Hannah is here.
Bye for now.

Someone Knows the Way

I have been knitting even though we've been experiencing a mini-heat wave. I'm knitting more scowls which I wrote about previously. A scowl is a cowl/neck warmer. If you want one, let me know your colors. I'll charge you - but the scowls are totally worth the money because these are beautiful once finished and they serve multiple functions by covering your double or triple chin(s), your neck wrinkles, crepey, hanging skin, chin hairs, neck blemishes, hickeys (yeah, right) and in a pinch, the scowl can also serve as a feedbag in church. Plus *I* am knitting this item which means you'll have the extra benefit of a few Bella hairs mingled in with the yarn. In addition I am desperate to supplement my increasingly meager income to buy more See's candy. The final price of your scowl depends on quality of yarn and whether or not I've had a glass of wine during the actual knitting process. Email me. We'll talk.


I have been working on ancestry.com in my spare time of which there seems to be plenty enough time to spend on ancestry.com and plenty of time for knitting and reading books (just finished The Camel Knows the Way) and hanging out at the beach. On my mom's side of the family I found peeps back to the mid-1700s. Finding this information is thrilling (at least to me), a knitter, avid book reader, occasional exerciser, admirer of oxygen and H2O. Ancestry.com costs money, sure, and they keep you coming back - if you like this sort of thing. Then again if you'd actually talk to your parents you might discover info with which you do not need to pay, other than attention to them. Just putting that thought out there.


Last time I visited my doctor she said she didn't think I should lose any more weight. Since that visit I'm down a few more pounds - below high school weight now. I was in the parking lot of a shopping complex yesterday afternoon when a woman called to me from across the parking lot. Last time I saw her was at a Weight Watchers meeting over a year ago. I'm nearly 100 lbs thinner and she still recognized me. Dammit.

  
Hannah asked for some lipstick so I gave her some old cruddy stuff I had laying around. Then she smeared it all over her lips and then wanted to put make-up on me -- I figured why not? One day I'll be dead and she will have fond memories of sprucing up her auntie's craggy lined face. (All I remembered of my great aunt was her long chin hairs.) Hannah layered different shades of blue on my eyelids, she acted very professional while mounding blush on my cheeks - I looked stunning. Last week when she was over to my house I let Hannah use the bronzer. She piled bronzer on her beautiful skin until her face and neck shone brick-orange. Bella, with an added spring to her step, carried the bronzer applicator between her teeth, and lay on the carpet, feasting. I told Hannah she looked beautiful if not super healthy! Really building up this little child's ego while I stared at her orange face. She kept gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Hannah was most likely puzzled by a disconnect between what she was seeing in the mirror (orange!) and my showering her with positive comments. When she got to her grandma's house, her grandma thought Hannah had a bad sunburn, saying "Who let you sit out in the sun so long?" 

I took off work early yesterday and picked up Hannah. We hit the dog beach at Rio Del Mar. There were a lot of folks hanging out there. One might think it was summer...except for the knitting.