I know I never write on here anymore but I realized this morning on the train that we are the happiest we've ever been right this very second. Jason co-owns a really cool restaurant that he is shaping and creating. He's using exclamation points in texts instead of periods. He is happy to head to work on the space every day. We are doing fun things all the time and remembering to really appreciate them. It's just a great summer. I know this isn't how it will always be but it is today and I want to make sure that's documented so that when things are hard again I can go back and be reminded of the intrinsic roller coaster nature of life.
Anyway, that's all for now. Short but sweet. The sweetest it's been in a long time. It won't last forever but I'm very grateful for today. And my cats. And noodles.
Wednesday, August 06, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
The Movie That Nearly Ended A Marriage
Megan and Jason and I had dinner together last night and the topic of documentaries came up. I was going on and on about Walk Away Renee. A very depressing story of mental illness that I, of course, loved. Both Megan and Jason had horrified faces as I described the main plot. Woman gets shock treatments as a girl and is never the same. Son moves her all over the country to try and find the right facility to help her. It’s the feel bad movie of the year.
Anyway, I loved it.
This conversation lead to the story of “the day Jason was the maddest at me in our entire relationship”.
I had just found out I had to start chemo in a few weeks. I was still healing from surgery. Things were tough to say the least. All I really felt like doing was distracting myself with movies and Jason would patiently let me pick them and watch them with me. I was already sort of on thin ice for picking Up as a Sunday afternoon pick me up film. I was a hysterical sobbing mess about 30 seconds into it and it only got worse. Jason wasn’t much better. After it was over he just looked at me and said “JEEEZE CRESCENT!”
A week or so later I decided maybe documentaries would be better. We watched a couple that were just okay. Then I rented Dear Zachary and was nearly divorced by the end of it. Having been burned in the heart by Up, Jason sat me down and looked me in the eyes and said “before I agree to watch it….what is it about?”
“Well this guy gets murdered and his best friend tries to make a movie to show his still alive son what his dad was like. It’s supposed to be really sweet.”
“Hmmm ok I guess.”
If you haven’t seen it never do. NEVER! It’s not sweet. It’s the most depressing movie of all time.
Jason was already prickly about the murder part. He was angry that this crazy woman was still free and had obviously killed her husband. Then out of nowhere the woman kills the child. I know. I had no idea that happened AND refused to believe it. Jason slowly turned to me with rage in his eyes. “Are you kidding me?!” I said “wait…no. That can’t be what happens. I think it’s a twist.”
It wasn’t a twist. Jason was furious with me. It was hilarious. I felt like I had cheated on a math test and gotten caught, or stolen some lipstick from Walgreen’s or given my little sister that I don’t have a black eye from horsin’ around.
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO WATCH THIS AND WE ARE ALREADY DEPRESSED ENOUGH HERE! WHY WOULD I OR YOU NEED TO SEE THIS! Honestly Crescent…. I’m just really mad and disappointed.” I think we watched the end just for completion sake but he iced me out the rest of the day.
It still makes me laugh so hard to remember even though it was so not funny at the time. It was like poor J was just hanging on for dear life. Wife has cancer, she can’t have kids, starting chemo, just had surgery… but he always kept it together for me the best he could. He’d cook dinner. He’d drive me to appts. He’d let me cry so hard I sounded like a new born baby. He was amazing. Still is. But every man has his limit and Dear Zachary was Jason’s. Seeing something so horrifying and sad just lifted the lid off of his blazing hot hatred of anyone being treated unjustly. It’s one of my favorite things about him even though I have seen it break his heart a million times, the world being what it is.
Thankfully we did NOT get divorced that day. In fact I think that was right around the time I rented Old School and showed it to him for the first time as a peace offering. He laughed harder than I’d seen him laugh in years at that stupid movie. We spent the rest of cancer watching Anchorman, Step Brothers, Old School (basically three times a week) and every other 7th grade humor film we could find. We’d had our fill of real life and real injustice. It was time to usher in the era of fart jokes, prat falls and bits about darts in necks…and we’ve never looked back.
Anyway, I loved it.
This conversation lead to the story of “the day Jason was the maddest at me in our entire relationship”.
I had just found out I had to start chemo in a few weeks. I was still healing from surgery. Things were tough to say the least. All I really felt like doing was distracting myself with movies and Jason would patiently let me pick them and watch them with me. I was already sort of on thin ice for picking Up as a Sunday afternoon pick me up film. I was a hysterical sobbing mess about 30 seconds into it and it only got worse. Jason wasn’t much better. After it was over he just looked at me and said “JEEEZE CRESCENT!”
A week or so later I decided maybe documentaries would be better. We watched a couple that were just okay. Then I rented Dear Zachary and was nearly divorced by the end of it. Having been burned in the heart by Up, Jason sat me down and looked me in the eyes and said “before I agree to watch it….what is it about?”
“Well this guy gets murdered and his best friend tries to make a movie to show his still alive son what his dad was like. It’s supposed to be really sweet.”
“Hmmm ok I guess.”
If you haven’t seen it never do. NEVER! It’s not sweet. It’s the most depressing movie of all time.
Jason was already prickly about the murder part. He was angry that this crazy woman was still free and had obviously killed her husband. Then out of nowhere the woman kills the child. I know. I had no idea that happened AND refused to believe it. Jason slowly turned to me with rage in his eyes. “Are you kidding me?!” I said “wait…no. That can’t be what happens. I think it’s a twist.”
It wasn’t a twist. Jason was furious with me. It was hilarious. I felt like I had cheated on a math test and gotten caught, or stolen some lipstick from Walgreen’s or given my little sister that I don’t have a black eye from horsin’ around.
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO WATCH THIS AND WE ARE ALREADY DEPRESSED ENOUGH HERE! WHY WOULD I OR YOU NEED TO SEE THIS! Honestly Crescent…. I’m just really mad and disappointed.” I think we watched the end just for completion sake but he iced me out the rest of the day.
It still makes me laugh so hard to remember even though it was so not funny at the time. It was like poor J was just hanging on for dear life. Wife has cancer, she can’t have kids, starting chemo, just had surgery… but he always kept it together for me the best he could. He’d cook dinner. He’d drive me to appts. He’d let me cry so hard I sounded like a new born baby. He was amazing. Still is. But every man has his limit and Dear Zachary was Jason’s. Seeing something so horrifying and sad just lifted the lid off of his blazing hot hatred of anyone being treated unjustly. It’s one of my favorite things about him even though I have seen it break his heart a million times, the world being what it is.
Thankfully we did NOT get divorced that day. In fact I think that was right around the time I rented Old School and showed it to him for the first time as a peace offering. He laughed harder than I’d seen him laugh in years at that stupid movie. We spent the rest of cancer watching Anchorman, Step Brothers, Old School (basically three times a week) and every other 7th grade humor film we could find. We’d had our fill of real life and real injustice. It was time to usher in the era of fart jokes, prat falls and bits about darts in necks…and we’ve never looked back.
Friday, December 13, 2013
I Heard The Bells (aka The Bloody Nose That ALMOST Ruined Christmas)
When I was about eight or nine we were at my Mema and Papa’s for Christmas Eve, like always. It had mostly been a perfect night with cousins and food and presents and the loud, excited chaos that comes with being a child on that night. I was playing a game with my younger cousins that consisted of them being on one side of the room and me on the other and they would say “HEY!” and I’d say “HAY IS FOR HORSES!” and we would all DIE laughing and they would charge at me, full speed and we’d fall into a pile of hysterics. We did that for hours. HOURS!
Then at one point there was a collision with me and my cousin Josh and my nose instantly gushed blood. He cried because he felt so horrible that he’d hurt me. I cried because I hated that he felt badly. I think a couple other cousins cried just because the game was over. That was about the time Mema Allen announced it was EVERYONE’s bedtime. Adults included.
She strongly believed injury, excessive noise and crying was THE sign sleep was needed by all. Pretty spot on, really. Can you think of a time when that ISN’T the case? Me neither. So the cousins left for their close by Kentucky homes. We’d come from Wisconsin so we all had our rooms at the house. The house quickly became dark and quiet with just the soft sounds of adults getting ready for bedtime.
I started crying, nay (is for horses) sobbing, in my bed. I felt like my awkward clumsiness caused the end to the nearly perfect night. If I'd just been more careful. If I'd just ducked. If I could've just hidden my bleeding face from the adults...maybe we would've played at least one more round.
Crying in bed was a common thing around that age. I was a VERY early bloomer and was already feeling the ache and sadness of growing up. I wasn’t ready for it. Didn’t want it. LOVED being little. HATED what was happening to my body be it “healthy and natural” or not. Still…here it was anyway. Bras. Growing pains. Feeling chubby and gangly all at once. The burden of feeling boy crazy to the point of madness and wanting to punch them in the face simultaneously. It was brutal. I still haven’t really recovered.
It wasn't just my nose or the end of the night. I was blue about another Christmas almost over. Sad that I was pretty sure Santa and my mom had the exact same handwriting. Already missing a childhood that was slipping out of my grasp every minute.
Then I heard something that made me sit straight up. A bell noise. A lot of bell noises. Outside.
It started in the distance and became crystal clear. Sleigh bells. My first feeling was sheer terror. Someone was in the yard!!! At midnight! My heart was pounding and I felt like I was hearing a ghost, monster or murderer because there was no WAY it was who I thought it was.
I tried to regain some logic and thought it was maybe my parents. Then I heard them in the bathroom brushing their teeth on the other side of the hallway. It wasn’t them. It wasn’t Mema or Papa. Was this really happening? The stories were true?
Terror gave way to a warm blazing joy that felt near and dear to relief. I was relieved that I had no explanation. That I could just believe, at least for one more year. I’m not sure I’ve ever slept better in my life. The burden of growing up lifted. Santa had found me in Kentucky to remind me I was still little in my heart even if my body wasn't.
Of course now at 40 I know there isn’t really a Santa. I'm not really sure what there is, if I'm being honest. The past few years have shaken up my philosophy and faith in a thousand different directions and I have yet to land.
In fact the thought of the whole Santa in your house thing now sort of freaks me out. When we explained Santa to my whip smart nephew when he was about four or five (he’s now 22) his immediate response was “Mama. Board up the fireplace.” Smart kid.
Nevertheless I have no explanation for those bells that night. A neighbor? An older cousin? An inept home invader? Hallucination due to a crushed nose?
To this day I have no answers. I'd just assume keep it that way.
Friday, September 13, 2013
This song goes out to my leftness...
I had my first yearly ONLY mammo today and I was sweating it. Between being off of Tamoxofin for a year while trying to get PG AND the fact that I've had some pain in old left...well I was worried. Like up the past 10 nights worried.
Then this morning was like the Large Marge story because the weather was as it was four years ago when Megan and I went for my first mammogram to make sure that little lump was nothing. It was something. A big black something that kind of crapped all over my 35th bday. I kept thinking this morning, "I LOVE this fall weather so much......oh no...but wait...it was a day JUST LIKE THIS...." then I'd remind myself that science doesn't care about the Skilling forecast.
I was a thought machine on the bus going so far as to just really imagine what it would be like if they found something again and actually talking myself through it. "well you won't have to shave your legs again...that was pretty dope." or "You still have all those amazing friends and family around...I bet they'll be there for me again, if need be. That was also pretty fly."
But all that anxiety and meditation was for naught because...
All clear! They have a new breast imaging center at Rush and it's lovely. Girly, peaceful, relaxation screens everywhere. The new machines are spanky new and clean. The tech was chatty and sweet and had a mom who survived breast cancer. At one point she said, out of the blue, "You were just too young to deal with all this, weren't you honey." It almost made me cry but I rallied. The petulant child in me wanted to say "YES! I WAS! And it's actually been really really hard and stressful even four years later!" but I keep that child locked up in the basement with a Curious George book and a bottomless bowl of orange Gatorade so I just said what I always say "Actually it really wasn't all that bad" and that's true too.
HOWEVER I am so giddy and happy right now to know that nothing new has formed and that the pain I've had is just scar tissue and good old fashioned nerve damage. I had a doctor read the results that I've had many times. She always says my "odd name doesn't fit how I look" because she always expects me to be African American or Indian because they have odd names. I usually laugh like a robot as to not align myself with her collar tugging comments. Mild racist or not she's good at reading the images.
Today for whatever reason we just sort of organically decided to look at all my images from the tumor days to today. The scares...the scars...the memories. Afterwards I pictured us laughing like old friends while pointing in slow motion at the blurry and dense breast tissue I've grown to memorize. The giant gap in the left breast where the huge black and pointy tumor was. The healthy and much larger right breast that has been our rock through all this by staying in such great form, reminding me and lefty of the good ol' days when they were both matching friends.
I know they aren't people but I'm a people and those two big size D dungles have been with me from jump street. I love them and am just really proud of them today. Maybe I'm a little proud of myself too. I'm doing the best I can and so are they. Especially rickety old lefty. She's half the girl she used to be but still hanging in there.
Here's to you, ladies. We made it another year.
Then this morning was like the Large Marge story because the weather was as it was four years ago when Megan and I went for my first mammogram to make sure that little lump was nothing. It was something. A big black something that kind of crapped all over my 35th bday. I kept thinking this morning, "I LOVE this fall weather so much......oh no...but wait...it was a day JUST LIKE THIS...." then I'd remind myself that science doesn't care about the Skilling forecast.
I was a thought machine on the bus going so far as to just really imagine what it would be like if they found something again and actually talking myself through it. "well you won't have to shave your legs again...that was pretty dope." or "You still have all those amazing friends and family around...I bet they'll be there for me again, if need be. That was also pretty fly."
But all that anxiety and meditation was for naught because...
All clear! They have a new breast imaging center at Rush and it's lovely. Girly, peaceful, relaxation screens everywhere. The new machines are spanky new and clean. The tech was chatty and sweet and had a mom who survived breast cancer. At one point she said, out of the blue, "You were just too young to deal with all this, weren't you honey." It almost made me cry but I rallied. The petulant child in me wanted to say "YES! I WAS! And it's actually been really really hard and stressful even four years later!" but I keep that child locked up in the basement with a Curious George book and a bottomless bowl of orange Gatorade so I just said what I always say "Actually it really wasn't all that bad" and that's true too.
HOWEVER I am so giddy and happy right now to know that nothing new has formed and that the pain I've had is just scar tissue and good old fashioned nerve damage. I had a doctor read the results that I've had many times. She always says my "odd name doesn't fit how I look" because she always expects me to be African American or Indian because they have odd names. I usually laugh like a robot as to not align myself with her collar tugging comments. Mild racist or not she's good at reading the images.
Today for whatever reason we just sort of organically decided to look at all my images from the tumor days to today. The scares...the scars...the memories. Afterwards I pictured us laughing like old friends while pointing in slow motion at the blurry and dense breast tissue I've grown to memorize. The giant gap in the left breast where the huge black and pointy tumor was. The healthy and much larger right breast that has been our rock through all this by staying in such great form, reminding me and lefty of the good ol' days when they were both matching friends.
I know they aren't people but I'm a people and those two big size D dungles have been with me from jump street. I love them and am just really proud of them today. Maybe I'm a little proud of myself too. I'm doing the best I can and so are they. Especially rickety old lefty. She's half the girl she used to be but still hanging in there.
Here's to you, ladies. We made it another year.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Collateral Damage
This month's list of PMS shrapnel:
1. Two nights of lost sleep due to biting my tongue and then eating a ton of cherries and drinking a bunch of wine on vacation resulting in sore tongue that I was certain was late stage everything from the neck up cancer. The small sore has now completely healed which must mean I am a god like being that fought full blown cancer away in a mere 72 hours with nothing more than my will to survive.
2. A Bernie Taupin/Elton John tribute CD from the 90's that I loved when I was 18 and still living with my folks. With the exception of Sir Jon Bon Jovi's rendition of Levon it does not hold up and is really horrible. I listened to it in its’ entirety thrice.
3. After stomping around too much due to excessive amounts of internal anger at my fellow train riders I managed to rip my sandals to the point of no return.
3b. Hobbled to Payless to get a new pair and there was nothing in my size that I liked so instead of buying some that I SORTA liked I decided to buy a pair I hate with a white hot rage for ten dollars more.
4. At 3:46pm as I was typing the entries above I made the decision to eat hot wings again tonight even though I had them last night.
5. Almost signed up for piano lessons.
Much like Levon...I wear my war wound.....like a crown. God help us all.
1. Two nights of lost sleep due to biting my tongue and then eating a ton of cherries and drinking a bunch of wine on vacation resulting in sore tongue that I was certain was late stage everything from the neck up cancer. The small sore has now completely healed which must mean I am a god like being that fought full blown cancer away in a mere 72 hours with nothing more than my will to survive.
2. A Bernie Taupin/Elton John tribute CD from the 90's that I loved when I was 18 and still living with my folks. With the exception of Sir Jon Bon Jovi's rendition of Levon it does not hold up and is really horrible. I listened to it in its’ entirety thrice.
3. After stomping around too much due to excessive amounts of internal anger at my fellow train riders I managed to rip my sandals to the point of no return.
3b. Hobbled to Payless to get a new pair and there was nothing in my size that I liked so instead of buying some that I SORTA liked I decided to buy a pair I hate with a white hot rage for ten dollars more.
4. At 3:46pm as I was typing the entries above I made the decision to eat hot wings again tonight even though I had them last night.
5. Almost signed up for piano lessons.
Much like Levon...I wear my war wound.....like a crown. God help us all.
Monday, May 06, 2013
Robert Seeger and Jeffrey Chambertain.......ARE....
FELINE EMERGENCY ANXIETY STOPPERS!
For some unknown reason I woke up today and instantly had a giant panic attack. I haven't had one in ages AND am not really feeling anxious about anything! I mean I always have a low level of panic about things like money, health, if we have enough noodles in the house..but this was outlandish. I felt like I was going to spin off my axis into the abyss and could NOT get myself talked down. I was so frustrated because I feel like panic like that is, obviously, all in head therefore easily stopped by using my adult brain. It just doesn't work that way, unfortunately. I never really bought into the whole anxiety overtaking your body and turning you, however briefly, into a sweaty, rapid breathing doom machine until I had one. I pretty much lived in one the year my mom had cancer. All my trust in the universe was out the window along with my ability to get through even an hour without becoming convinced to my core that every single person I loved was going to die that very day. Or I was going to. Or we all were going to. It was super fun.
I started taking Xanax twice a day but it just sort of turned me into a muted version of myself and didn't really relieve anything. It felt like it just chloroformed ragged the anxiety's face when they least expected it but it was fine when it woke up. Like Goldie Hawn in Foul Play. I feel like she gets the chloroformed like five times in that movie and she always wakes up perky and ready to karate chop.
Anyway, eventually it got so bad that I had to cry for the entirety of my Dad's 70th birthday party which really added a nice touch to the festivities my family had worked so hard on. After a very intense and needed talk with my sister (who is a therapist but also just a wonderful person and listener) I decided to stop taking Xanax and see a psychiatrist. She helped me find ways and times to meditate and changed my life.
However, those didn't work this morning. You know what did work?
these two dungles.
Usually in the morning they are insane. Yes yes...I know you are saying "well that's just how kittens are....I get it." No. You don't. They aren't normal insane they are like how a really bad actor plays insane in a really bad movie. Darty eyes....prone to violence against each other and toys...manic eating binges followed by tag team pooping and litter kicking. Point being, cuddling with me is very low on their To Do list at that time of day. Sun comes up they go batshit.
But today I came out and tried to calm down on the sofa by watching the sunrise and they both stared at me like they KNEW something was wrong and got up on my lap. After both of them marched on my stomach for about five minutes they BOTH curled up on my lap/chest and reached their paws out on my arm in a very human "there there" way. Then they fell asleep purring like crazy. And that did it. I felt the worry wash out of my blood stream and we all were able to sleep like that for an hour, all of us holding paws. It was a really sweet and bonding moment with them.
I know they are just cats and probably just wanted to take a nap because they played too much stuffed mouse throw in the night but whatever. It worked.
I still have that foggy drained feeling that you get after one of those sessions but thank God and feline it's over.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Orange Soda
If you would've told me in college that the most fun person in the WORLD to watch a scary movie with would be Jason Prah I would've slapped you in the lying face. But he is. He gets all....what's the word...bouncy? Hyper? I don't know but he does stuff like turns off all the lights and sort of squeals in my direction a lot to get me to be nervous.
Last night it was Paranormal Activity 4. I'm a huge fan of that franchise. They are silly but scare me and have no blood involved.
I get up to go make him some orange soda, which he was demanding in a horrible child's voice..."I WANT ORANGE SODA!!!" That alone was killing me. Then as I was finishing he got totally silent. I always know that means he's planning some big scare. For instance, during another horror movie night I went to the bathroom and when I came out he had actually LEFT the house. He was giggling hysterically outside the front door when I finally found him. So last night when I came out of the kitchen he wasn't on the sofa. I started nervously giggling then saw him sitting at the dining room table in the dark with his hoodie hood up over his face. It was a good one for sure but I was only scared for like .2 seconds because he started laughing right away.
Then during another soda/pee break HE got up to get some more soda and said "I hope nothing happens to you while I get more orrrrrrannnnge soda, dude!"
Silence then a loud PSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTT and dripping sound as he opened the orange soda bottle too fast and it shot all over the floor and fridge. More silence then "WHOA!" He walked back into the living room then turned right back around "I need to eat more hot peppers".
I don't even know why I'm telling you all this but I just am. It was so comically wonderful and fun. He's the best. I guess that's all. And maybe just try and watch a scary movie with him sometime because it's like the most fun you may ever have.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
Friday, December 21, 2012
Christmas Lists
I am crying laughing at how great my family is right now. Every year the funniest part of the holiday for me is reading everyone's gift idea lists. Such an adorable glimpse into the minds and hearts of my loved ones.
To be fair we will start with some highlights from mine:
Sweaters (I threw out most of my clothes in this move) large. I don’t care what they look like
Mittens! Black and cozy.
A scratching post for the boys
A metal real tea pot. Like the kind that boils water and whistles and all that. You know, for tea.
A curling iron or rollers. Big size. Probably rollers because I'm lazy.
Good shampoo and conditioner (don't tell anyone but my scalp itches)
Slippers
Jammies (not too hot...i mean as in temp not sexiness)
My sister Kendra lives alone and has very simple, yet specific wants:
a pretty wine glass
keurig coffee or cider or other hot drinks...I have the machine but need fun drink choices
a winter themed wreath for outside but not Christmas related
My oldest sister, Jacy, might be the funniest one in our family but she is so subtle with her jokes that she is terribly underrated.
• Haunted Wisconsin-paperback.
• A colorful big umbrella,
• yankee car scent hanging thing,
• nail polish-light color.
• Any kind of cool book bag for my work stuff and lunch etc...
• Any earrings silver or gold color.
• Anything x-mas-love ornaments, knick knacks, paddy wacks, bones.
My mom does both her list and my dad's. Here is her's which is just about as adorable as it gets.
CT, I need a new calendar-something literary or really neat-you know. I always love writing pens, fine point black. I would love some soft socks for night time , fingernail polish (not pink) literary t-shirt, x-large, some neat small tea-light holders. little sentimental things I could hang in my study window, white, black , brown, creme tip towels for our bathrooms, a x7 mag. make-up mirror on a plain stand, no lights, no frills, just good magnification and will move whatever way you need. Oh, the tip towels could be combinations of red, white and black for my bathroom and combo of brown and creme or light blue for Calvin's. I love British stuff and a new hair brush. Plus, I would like a new recliner for Calvin, the house painted upstairs and down, a new light over my kitchen sink. I would also like a new refrigerator, washer and dryer, landscaping in the front yard, house cleaner, record player.....gasp. I can't go on. Love, Momma
I had no idea my mom wanted a record player. I plan to get her a British hairbrush.
Here is HER list for my dad:
He loves shower gel, that shaving creme you got him, work gloves, p.j.'s large or ex. depending on the brand. Use your judgement. Handkerchiefs, socks- hot dogs or single color but not athletic. I hope that helps.
It helps a great deal mom, thanks. It should be noted that the term "hot dogs" means fancy in my family. People can be hot dogs, socks, houses...anything fancy. Even hot dogs could technically be hot dogs if they had caviar on them maybe.
Sweet little Jason just wants a new record needle. God bless us, everyone.
To be fair we will start with some highlights from mine:
Sweaters (I threw out most of my clothes in this move) large. I don’t care what they look like
Mittens! Black and cozy.
A scratching post for the boys
A metal real tea pot. Like the kind that boils water and whistles and all that. You know, for tea.
A curling iron or rollers. Big size. Probably rollers because I'm lazy.
Good shampoo and conditioner (don't tell anyone but my scalp itches)
Slippers
Jammies (not too hot...i mean as in temp not sexiness)
My sister Kendra lives alone and has very simple, yet specific wants:
a pretty wine glass
keurig coffee or cider or other hot drinks...I have the machine but need fun drink choices
a winter themed wreath for outside but not Christmas related
My oldest sister, Jacy, might be the funniest one in our family but she is so subtle with her jokes that she is terribly underrated.
• Haunted Wisconsin-paperback.
• A colorful big umbrella,
• yankee car scent hanging thing,
• nail polish-light color.
• Any kind of cool book bag for my work stuff and lunch etc...
• Any earrings silver or gold color.
• Anything x-mas-love ornaments, knick knacks, paddy wacks, bones.
My mom does both her list and my dad's. Here is her's which is just about as adorable as it gets.
CT, I need a new calendar-something literary or really neat-you know. I always love writing pens, fine point black. I would love some soft socks for night time , fingernail polish (not pink) literary t-shirt, x-large, some neat small tea-light holders. little sentimental things I could hang in my study window, white, black , brown, creme tip towels for our bathrooms, a x7 mag. make-up mirror on a plain stand, no lights, no frills, just good magnification and will move whatever way you need. Oh, the tip towels could be combinations of red, white and black for my bathroom and combo of brown and creme or light blue for Calvin's. I love British stuff and a new hair brush. Plus, I would like a new recliner for Calvin, the house painted upstairs and down, a new light over my kitchen sink. I would also like a new refrigerator, washer and dryer, landscaping in the front yard, house cleaner, record player.....gasp. I can't go on. Love, Momma
I had no idea my mom wanted a record player. I plan to get her a British hairbrush.
Here is HER list for my dad:
He loves shower gel, that shaving creme you got him, work gloves, p.j.'s large or ex. depending on the brand. Use your judgement. Handkerchiefs, socks- hot dogs or single color but not athletic. I hope that helps.
It helps a great deal mom, thanks. It should be noted that the term "hot dogs" means fancy in my family. People can be hot dogs, socks, houses...anything fancy. Even hot dogs could technically be hot dogs if they had caviar on them maybe.
Sweet little Jason just wants a new record needle. God bless us, everyone.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Dream Tan
I had a dream last night that I was in a contest to try and apply fake tanner lotion as evenly and quickly as possible. I would put it on and it instantly would streak and look orange or a horrible pea green. I kept yelling "it's too late to go back! Help!" but everyone was just laughing and agreeing that I really never got over the 80's.
Rude, everyone. Rude.
Rude, everyone. Rude.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
You Meta, You Meta, You Bet!
I am working on a big project with a favorite person (Hi E!) and one of my assignments was to read my entire blog, top to bottom, and pull some favorite posts. I did it. Lord have mercy. Talk about a weird little trot down the lane of memories.
So many pictures. So many moments. So many ups and downs. So many times I said I was going to lose weight and go to grad school. Seven years!
It made me realize I want to start using it again as a daily update with pics. I miss doing that and future me will miss being able to look back on them from my under water space lair.
Also, life is wonderful right now. I know it won't always be. (If you don't believe that just read the Six Flags ride that is this blog) But I've slowly started to be able to just enjoy and not worry quite so much. I'm thankful to my crazy life for that. It's nice. A relief.
Enough about THAT! Let's have fun again!
Here is Jason reminding us all that he may be sassy but he's an independent go-getter who don't need no man to define him! Tyler Perry's I Look GOOD Bein' This Strong! Starring Jason Prah.
Jeffrey Chambertain is a special guy. Very very......special.
Mr. Robert Seeger is always runnin against the wind. Against the wind.
So many pictures. So many moments. So many ups and downs. So many times I said I was going to lose weight and go to grad school. Seven years!
It made me realize I want to start using it again as a daily update with pics. I miss doing that and future me will miss being able to look back on them from my under water space lair.
Also, life is wonderful right now. I know it won't always be. (If you don't believe that just read the Six Flags ride that is this blog) But I've slowly started to be able to just enjoy and not worry quite so much. I'm thankful to my crazy life for that. It's nice. A relief.
Enough about THAT! Let's have fun again!
Here is Jason reminding us all that he may be sassy but he's an independent go-getter who don't need no man to define him! Tyler Perry's I Look GOOD Bein' This Strong! Starring Jason Prah.
Jeffrey Chambertain is a special guy. Very very......special.
Mr. Robert Seeger is always runnin against the wind. Against the wind.
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
our music
I've been thinking a lot about our inner music. How music makes us feel so deeply. There are songs I've heard and songs I haven't heard yet that make me feel like I'll never be the same again. In the best way. Stirring is the best word for it. They stir my cells up. Redistributing the love and fear and memories and wild guesses about my life.
I found this this link yesterday and have listened to it about 35 times since. It made me feel like weeping. Again, in the best way possible.
Anyway, listen to it.
It's all of us.
I think that's what gets me about it. The unity of man, animals, nature creating our vibrations/melody of our home.
http://idealab.talkingpointsmemo.com/2012/10/earth-sound.php
I sent it to my dad because we are very alike about our feelings on the grandness of it all. The big and the giant. The so tiny that they are almost invisible. It's all of us and it makes me feel love and loved. Forever, never alone.
This was his reply and I'll save it forever.
"Love your music and earths. Maybe all of creation, all creatures and plants and more sing their song but we just don't have the ears to listen. Maybe we could hear if we listened differently. Maybe it would be so overwhelming if we could hear all that symphony of life we would just sit and starve as the concert went on and on. Maybe we could bring chips and drinks. So much uncertain. Love, Dad"
I found this this link yesterday and have listened to it about 35 times since. It made me feel like weeping. Again, in the best way possible.
Anyway, listen to it.
It's all of us.
I think that's what gets me about it. The unity of man, animals, nature creating our vibrations/melody of our home.
http://idealab.talkingpointsmemo.com/2012/10/earth-sound.php
I sent it to my dad because we are very alike about our feelings on the grandness of it all. The big and the giant. The so tiny that they are almost invisible. It's all of us and it makes me feel love and loved. Forever, never alone.
This was his reply and I'll save it forever.
"Love your music and earths. Maybe all of creation, all creatures and plants and more sing their song but we just don't have the ears to listen. Maybe we could hear if we listened differently. Maybe it would be so overwhelming if we could hear all that symphony of life we would just sit and starve as the concert went on and on. Maybe we could bring chips and drinks. So much uncertain. Love, Dad"
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Chicken Little Dreams
I typed "Chicken Little Creams" the first time which actually sounds delicious. "Tonight our special is the braised lamb shank with a carrot foam and chicken little creams". Delightful. We'll take two.
Anyway, I had a dream I wanted to get down.
I know why I had it. I know exactly what it means.
The why: Parenthood. The most precious, overly produced, emotionally manipulative show on tv. And I never....miss....an ep. Sigh. Anyway, SPOILER ALERT, last night's ep ended with a main character finding out she has breast cancer. It was TOTALLY out of left field and that made me mad until I thought...."wait...it's always out of left field." I felt like I had been bitch slapped by a walrus when I found out. So well done stupid Parenthood.
It made me cry in that way where all of a sudden there is a rock in your chest and your eyes start leaking like someone took the bubble gum out of your damn.
I shook it off and went to bed. Dumb move. I should have watched an ep of something like Benny Hill or whatever to clear my pallet.
The dream:
It was night and I was at a place called Starved Rock but it wasn't the real Starved Rock. It was a giant ocean and then mountains made out of this black spongy stuff that would fall away as you tried to climb it. I was carefully edging up one of the hills to try and see the water but was yelling to everyone "people die here a lot! be careful!" and then started shaking violently.
I closed my eyes like I knew what was coming. Then I heard the sound of a body falling to the ground with a sickening thud and then the panicked splashing and swimming of people below trying to save the most certainly dead person. I opened my eyes and it just kept happening. People on land weeping, trying to put the bodies back together of their loved ones. Others swimming out into the ocean desperately to avoid being crushed by the falling people.
Then I made the decision to just look at the ocean and the sky and fireworks started going off. I watched them and cried and tried with every cell in my body to shut out the chaotic sounds of death and mayhem to my right.
I woke up exhausted and sad but made myself think about it until I came up with....
The What:
Obviously the black and spongy mountains are tumors and illness. People falling from the sky are what I can't control. I can't shout loudly enough to make sure no one I love gets sick. It just won't work. Science and all that. So why not just try and see some pretty lights in the sky? That's how I've chosen to live and be. But no matter how many fireworks I find there is still chaos and mayhem to my right. Finding the balance of being realistic and staying optimistic as not to betray who I've always been is an interesting journey for me. Not bad. Not easy. Just an enormous part of the rest of my adventure of self.
Conclusion:
Parenthood is really getting hacky but I do love Ray Romano. Everybody does!
Anyway, I had a dream I wanted to get down.
I know why I had it. I know exactly what it means.
The why: Parenthood. The most precious, overly produced, emotionally manipulative show on tv. And I never....miss....an ep. Sigh. Anyway, SPOILER ALERT, last night's ep ended with a main character finding out she has breast cancer. It was TOTALLY out of left field and that made me mad until I thought...."wait...it's always out of left field." I felt like I had been bitch slapped by a walrus when I found out. So well done stupid Parenthood.
It made me cry in that way where all of a sudden there is a rock in your chest and your eyes start leaking like someone took the bubble gum out of your damn.
I shook it off and went to bed. Dumb move. I should have watched an ep of something like Benny Hill or whatever to clear my pallet.
The dream:
It was night and I was at a place called Starved Rock but it wasn't the real Starved Rock. It was a giant ocean and then mountains made out of this black spongy stuff that would fall away as you tried to climb it. I was carefully edging up one of the hills to try and see the water but was yelling to everyone "people die here a lot! be careful!" and then started shaking violently.
I closed my eyes like I knew what was coming. Then I heard the sound of a body falling to the ground with a sickening thud and then the panicked splashing and swimming of people below trying to save the most certainly dead person. I opened my eyes and it just kept happening. People on land weeping, trying to put the bodies back together of their loved ones. Others swimming out into the ocean desperately to avoid being crushed by the falling people.
Then I made the decision to just look at the ocean and the sky and fireworks started going off. I watched them and cried and tried with every cell in my body to shut out the chaotic sounds of death and mayhem to my right.
I woke up exhausted and sad but made myself think about it until I came up with....
The What:
Obviously the black and spongy mountains are tumors and illness. People falling from the sky are what I can't control. I can't shout loudly enough to make sure no one I love gets sick. It just won't work. Science and all that. So why not just try and see some pretty lights in the sky? That's how I've chosen to live and be. But no matter how many fireworks I find there is still chaos and mayhem to my right. Finding the balance of being realistic and staying optimistic as not to betray who I've always been is an interesting journey for me. Not bad. Not easy. Just an enormous part of the rest of my adventure of self.
Conclusion:
Parenthood is really getting hacky but I do love Ray Romano. Everybody does!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Thank Cog for Calv
It might just be this fall music mix I'm making but something is stirred in me or shaken...on the rocks? Not sure. It's not bad. It's lovely actually. Just a strong current that pulls my tide in and out like crazy.
Most of it was seeing my 20 year old nephew off this weekend. Remembering feeding him from a bottle. How one day he said "Crescent...you know who made that tree? Cog." How he used to hide under pillows when Lorelei and I would baby sit him and would shout "SOMEBODY!!! ANYBODY!!!!" until we came to find him. All of us laughing hysterically. How one day he asked me why I called him Pumpkin all the time. I told him because that was the only type of pie I really really loved. He replied "oh. Well then I'm going to call you Peaches."
As he headed into adolescence I saw that he loved music the same way I did and had growing up. It made me so happy. We would talk about the coolest bands...the best songs. Take turns exchanging cds. Talk about how when he turned 21 we'd go to lots of concerts, and we will.
Then he went to college. My college. Flourished. So smart. So fun. Great kid.
He leaves Wednesday for London for four months. I really only see him once a month but still. I will miss him so much. He applied for and received an internship with Parliament. Not the funk band. The government body. Holy crap, right? To say we are all proud of him would be so inadequate a statement that I will just skip trying to find a suitable alternative.
I took the bus to Madison for his going away party. He picked me up at the bus stop and we talked about the trip. We drove with the windows open and the music playing. Feeling more like a friend than an Aunt. When did he learn to drive by the way? Oh yeah years ago.
I took the same semester abroad in 1997 (hold on....gotta take my fiber and soak my teeth). I didn't have an internship...unless I got some credits for pint drinking...can't remember.
Anyway, the party was great. I listened to him talk to family about what he'd be doing. About what he thinks. About what he feels. His current thoughts on "Cog". We watched two movies together that we loved. Talked film. Talked life. It just moved me.
It's no secret I want children. It's no secret that very well may not happen. It may be a secret that I'm actually really coming to healthy terms with that. The thing is looking backward and forward on his life I have had and will get the distinct pleasure of knowing him well at each stage. It is a balm on that ache like no other. To share the pride, the worry the love and the joy of his 20 years on this planet has been a gift for not just me but our whole family.
I can't wait him to take the next stage. I'll be there.
Most of it was seeing my 20 year old nephew off this weekend. Remembering feeding him from a bottle. How one day he said "Crescent...you know who made that tree? Cog." How he used to hide under pillows when Lorelei and I would baby sit him and would shout "SOMEBODY!!! ANYBODY!!!!" until we came to find him. All of us laughing hysterically. How one day he asked me why I called him Pumpkin all the time. I told him because that was the only type of pie I really really loved. He replied "oh. Well then I'm going to call you Peaches."
As he headed into adolescence I saw that he loved music the same way I did and had growing up. It made me so happy. We would talk about the coolest bands...the best songs. Take turns exchanging cds. Talk about how when he turned 21 we'd go to lots of concerts, and we will.
Then he went to college. My college. Flourished. So smart. So fun. Great kid.
He leaves Wednesday for London for four months. I really only see him once a month but still. I will miss him so much. He applied for and received an internship with Parliament. Not the funk band. The government body. Holy crap, right? To say we are all proud of him would be so inadequate a statement that I will just skip trying to find a suitable alternative.
I took the bus to Madison for his going away party. He picked me up at the bus stop and we talked about the trip. We drove with the windows open and the music playing. Feeling more like a friend than an Aunt. When did he learn to drive by the way? Oh yeah years ago.
I took the same semester abroad in 1997 (hold on....gotta take my fiber and soak my teeth). I didn't have an internship...unless I got some credits for pint drinking...can't remember.
Anyway, the party was great. I listened to him talk to family about what he'd be doing. About what he thinks. About what he feels. His current thoughts on "Cog". We watched two movies together that we loved. Talked film. Talked life. It just moved me.
It's no secret I want children. It's no secret that very well may not happen. It may be a secret that I'm actually really coming to healthy terms with that. The thing is looking backward and forward on his life I have had and will get the distinct pleasure of knowing him well at each stage. It is a balm on that ache like no other. To share the pride, the worry the love and the joy of his 20 years on this planet has been a gift for not just me but our whole family.
I can't wait him to take the next stage. I'll be there.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
Fresh kittens!
Our new little boys! Jeffrey Chambertain and Robert Seeger. They are wonderful little squishy, fluffy maniacs! I could stare into their tiny eyes all day and never get tired of it.
They definitely have the spirit of their forefelines, Caliban and Trinculo.
Although I'm worried I'm going to be that "friend" mom that lets them try sips of beer as long as they aren't driving. They are monsters sometimes and I just can't bring myself to tsk tsk them. They can run across my face and jump onto a lampshade and I'll try being stern but then they look at me with those teeny tinys and I am a puddle of ineffective parenting.
And I am loving every minute of it.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Science Water and Sad Good-Byes
Well he's gone. We put him down on Monday morning. He came and got us in our room. He hadn't been able to walk more than a few feet for a couple days and that little SOB made it all the way to our room. Gave us a few weak mews and we know it was time. So did he. The whole thing was HEARTBREAKING but beautiful. He laid his head in Jason's hand as he went. It was time, it was time. I keep saying that over and over but it really was.
Jason and I had a great talk last night about the milestones that come with pet loss. When my childhood cat, Marble, died I was about to move out of the house I'd grown up in and broke up with a boyfriend. The one before Jason, in fact. When Trinculo died we realized we had to get our collective lives together. When Ava died I realized I needed a new job. Watching Caliban go was this amazing ride of all of it. He's been there for almost all of it. The Crescent and Jason years I mean. College, moving, very hard times, very great times, cancer, loss of loved ones, he was there. Our totem. Now he's gone but I feel more full than empty. When he went I feel like he lifted all that anxiety I've been having about more hard times these past few months. That crippling fear that I won't be able to handle the rest of my life. Gone. I saw a cat that was ready for the next adventure and I felt his relief as he went. It gave me this blanket of comfort that we can all do this. Like my dad said....cats aren't worried about tomorrow. They aren't afraid of death. The just embrace and embrace and embrace. So that was my universe gift from losing really my favorite pet ever. We can do this. It will all be okay. Except when it won't but we can do that too.
Smokey the cat (my oldest sister's sweet tabby) had to be put down yesterday after some illness with his thyroid. So not a good week for cats in our lives. Or maybe a great week. They were both really ready. They are probably back to their fat and fluffy selves somewhere in the vastness of it all.
In other news my last words to Jason from my bed to him in the kitchen last night were "Don't touch it or you'll will compromise the science!"
I put a bottle of water (I know....I know.....million years to biodegrade....why not use a cup....why do you hate earth....yes yes. I almost NEVER have bottles of water at home but someone gave it to me as a your cat is dead gift, OK?) in the freezer all day yesterday. I took it out right before bed and put it on the counter for night time drinks. I wanted to see if it would stay cold all the way to my 5am water break. Jason was up until midnight doing laundry so I was worried he'd sample but he didn't. Until I told him he could at the 2am water break and then he drank all of it. So we have no answers here, people. We were ALMOST through the looking glass but Prah got greedy.
Also we are getting kittens soon. Even typing that I started crying tears of excitement. I've only had older cats my whole life so...you know....oh my god. I keep dreaming of how fluffy they might be. Caliban would've wanted it that way. He always seemed like he just wanted us happy. He was a big part of that.
Jason and I had a great talk last night about the milestones that come with pet loss. When my childhood cat, Marble, died I was about to move out of the house I'd grown up in and broke up with a boyfriend. The one before Jason, in fact. When Trinculo died we realized we had to get our collective lives together. When Ava died I realized I needed a new job. Watching Caliban go was this amazing ride of all of it. He's been there for almost all of it. The Crescent and Jason years I mean. College, moving, very hard times, very great times, cancer, loss of loved ones, he was there. Our totem. Now he's gone but I feel more full than empty. When he went I feel like he lifted all that anxiety I've been having about more hard times these past few months. That crippling fear that I won't be able to handle the rest of my life. Gone. I saw a cat that was ready for the next adventure and I felt his relief as he went. It gave me this blanket of comfort that we can all do this. Like my dad said....cats aren't worried about tomorrow. They aren't afraid of death. The just embrace and embrace and embrace. So that was my universe gift from losing really my favorite pet ever. We can do this. It will all be okay. Except when it won't but we can do that too.
Smokey the cat (my oldest sister's sweet tabby) had to be put down yesterday after some illness with his thyroid. So not a good week for cats in our lives. Or maybe a great week. They were both really ready. They are probably back to their fat and fluffy selves somewhere in the vastness of it all.
In other news my last words to Jason from my bed to him in the kitchen last night were "Don't touch it or you'll will compromise the science!"
I put a bottle of water (I know....I know.....million years to biodegrade....why not use a cup....why do you hate earth....yes yes. I almost NEVER have bottles of water at home but someone gave it to me as a your cat is dead gift, OK?) in the freezer all day yesterday. I took it out right before bed and put it on the counter for night time drinks. I wanted to see if it would stay cold all the way to my 5am water break. Jason was up until midnight doing laundry so I was worried he'd sample but he didn't. Until I told him he could at the 2am water break and then he drank all of it. So we have no answers here, people. We were ALMOST through the looking glass but Prah got greedy.
Also we are getting kittens soon. Even typing that I started crying tears of excitement. I've only had older cats my whole life so...you know....oh my god. I keep dreaming of how fluffy they might be. Caliban would've wanted it that way. He always seemed like he just wanted us happy. He was a big part of that.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Gallows Humor
So we are pretty sure Caliban is dying. I don't really want to talk about it right now because my eyes are so puffy from crying all night last night that I fear one more tear and I'll lose my ability to wink, which i LOVE doing so that would be tragic.
Also I have friends going through much harder times so I don't want to get all "poor me and my old man cat". It'll be awful but we will be okay and I will keep you posted. He is an American treasure for sure and loved by the masses.
ANYWAY, I was in Jewel in a last ditch effort to find SOMETHING the poor old guy might eat and I accidentally looked at the cat toys and started BAWLING. In the store. At like 6pm. I had texted my dad prior to that saying:
"hey Daddy. I think Caliban might be on his way out. He's really bony and lethargic."
My dad's reply not two seconds later was simply:
"You spelled my name wrong. It's C A L V I N."
I laughed so hard that I forgot all about the sadness of cat toys and remembered the happiness of family and friends. It was a big help. Although I'm sure someone called the cops on me once I went from sobbing to laughing in the cat food aisle.
Of course my dad followed his joke with this:
"I have learned much from cats. No fear of death, agitation about tomorrow, and quiet facing death. As long as suffering is not great or lengthy, they just participate as in all things on the journey of cats, people, stars, all. Nothing destroyed. Every atom present from beginning. All transformed. Caliban was, is, shall be...what is the next mystery but no doubt about continuance of the great adventure of being. Grieve the loss but no despair or doubt."
There goes my chance to be the varsity winking champion of Cook County.
Also I have friends going through much harder times so I don't want to get all "poor me and my old man cat". It'll be awful but we will be okay and I will keep you posted. He is an American treasure for sure and loved by the masses.
ANYWAY, I was in Jewel in a last ditch effort to find SOMETHING the poor old guy might eat and I accidentally looked at the cat toys and started BAWLING. In the store. At like 6pm. I had texted my dad prior to that saying:
"hey Daddy. I think Caliban might be on his way out. He's really bony and lethargic."
My dad's reply not two seconds later was simply:
"You spelled my name wrong. It's C A L V I N."
I laughed so hard that I forgot all about the sadness of cat toys and remembered the happiness of family and friends. It was a big help. Although I'm sure someone called the cops on me once I went from sobbing to laughing in the cat food aisle.
Of course my dad followed his joke with this:
"I have learned much from cats. No fear of death, agitation about tomorrow, and quiet facing death. As long as suffering is not great or lengthy, they just participate as in all things on the journey of cats, people, stars, all. Nothing destroyed. Every atom present from beginning. All transformed. Caliban was, is, shall be...what is the next mystery but no doubt about continuance of the great adventure of being. Grieve the loss but no despair or doubt."
There goes my chance to be the varsity winking champion of Cook County.
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
Feline Lucky
I woke up Sunday morning around 7:30 to find Caliban (our 18 year old orange Tabby) unable to walk. It was horrible. He was, literally, scooting himself around in circles trying to get up. When he would finally get up he'd fall back over, unable to put any weight on his back right foot. I handled it in my normal, level headed way by bursting into tears and waking Jason up by saying "Something is horribly wrong!". Smooth Operator was my code name when I was in Top Gun.
We rushed him to the Vet ER (also known as the saddest, most depressing, soul crushing place on earth). They got him right in for x-rays while we waited in the lobby trying to prepare ourselves for the decisions ahead, all while attempting not to make eye contact with all the sick and injured dogs sadly limping around.
The vet brought us back to see the x-ray and said there was a mass around his ankle that could be cancer but could also just be arthritis. She said “Hey cats can live without a leg!”. Needless to say we are not going to put our 18 year old cat through amputation. Basically we were sent home with crazy powerful pain meds and the advice of “He might get better or you might need to start planning for more tests or saying good-bye”. Horrible. She was a wonderful vet though. That really was the only advice to give. So we got him home and doped up. The meds were supposed to make him sleep but they seemed to keep him up and crazy. He kept staring at the candle on the table and then at me. We put on some Bob Dylan and let him ride it out. “It’s all about the journey man. Live the experience, dude.”
Our friends came over to entertain and distract us. We still cried a lot. We talked about who Caliban was to us and how we loved him in a profound way. How Jason had found him, with his brother, at a vet in Branson when they were tiny kittens. How he and Trinculo (his brother) would terrorize us by running around the apartment pooping in all our potted plants. The funny and wonderful history of this animal that has lived with us since we were in college. 18 years. That’s a long time.
That leads me to one of the few unexplainable by science events in my life. (including but not limited to the time in high school I thought I got a phone call from future me. Although I was pretty dramatic back then. It was probably my sister harassing me since we have the same voice. hmm I think I just solved that mystery.)
Right around the time that we were waiting to see if my cancer had spread and what the course of treatment/surgery would be I was home alone with Caliban on my lap. I was terrified and crying and petting him. His face was, as usual, all up in my grill rubbing against my left ear while I bawled my head off. At this time he was starting to get skinny, his fur was matted and dry and his eyes were always squinty and sore looking. He was showing signs of kidney failure and didn’t seem long for the world. We knew he was probably going to have to be put down sooner than later but couldn’t have that conversation while also waiting for test results to find out if my cancer was in my bones. Slightly bigger fish to fry and all that.
Anyway, that night I was alone and therefore didn’t care that I was about to have a very poignant conversation, aloud, with my cat. I took his head in my hands and said, “Mr. Monster (his nickname)…if you can just hold on one more year and help us through this you can let go. But please not yet. It will break our already weak hearts. I know it’s a lot to ask but we just aren’t ready for you to go.”
I felt totally selfish asking this of a rickety old cat that had moved with us a total of seven times including two in a Nissan Sentra to and from Branson without air-conditioning with two other howling cats. A cat that lost his brother far too young. A cat that never complained when we were so poor we had to eat donuts for a week while he got generic brand cat chow probably made from cardboard. A cat that sat on my lap and let me sob out a request to hang in there a little longer so I could get through cancer a little easier.
A few days later Jason and I were hanging out trying to keep it together when Jason confessed to me that he had asked Cal to try and hang in there a little longer for us the previous night. When I started crying and said I’d had the same conversation we both laughed through tears about how alike we are but also what an awesome a cat he was.
Now you can choose to believe or not believe but I promise you this is the truth.
Within a few weeks I noticed him eating more. His fur started to fluff back up to its normal soft, just out of the salon condition. His eye cleared up. He started playing with yellow fish (his favorite toy) again. By the time my surgery rolled around he was starting to get a belly on him again. While I recovered he spent every waking moment on my lap but always so careful not to sit on my lumpectomy area. Like he knew I was hurt.
When chemo rolled around he looked about five years younger and has stayed that way since. Every night when I’d wake up with joint pain and fevers he would groggily wake up from his chair and meander over to me as I got settled on the sofa for a night of misery and never leave my side. He would find the times Jason needed him too. I have a picture of them together one day and it almost looks like Caliban is the one holding Jason instead of the other way around.
Sunday was the first time since our talks with him that we thought maybe he was a goner again and I’m happy to say that little curmudgeon is walking just fine as of last night. He’s off the pain meds (although I’m sure he’ll never forget the night he could hear rainbows and cosmically understand ice cubes). Heart of a champion!
He ended up giving us way more than one year since that talk and apparently is still hanging in there, generous old man that he is.
Last night when I got home he jumped up on my lap even though I tried to stop him to keep him from re-injuring his ankle. He was doing the intense face on my left ear rubbing thing and I stopped him and grabbed his face again, looked him right in the cloudy old eyes and said “thank you buddy.”
Sometimes a cat isn’t just a cat.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Taking Back the Nacht
Jason freaked out again last night when I came back into the room after a 2am water break. This one was the loudest most afraid I've seen him yet. All of his limbs flew up in the air at the same time and he made this super deep and terrified "UHHHHAA" sound. Then he said "Croissant....why do you DO that!" What?? Walk back into my room after some water? (Truth: Diet 7UP out of the bottle). Also, it's not like I dress up for bed or anything but it's also not like I put on white zombie make-up, giant monster hands and a fright wig. Although my shirt did say CANCUN FIESTA AMERICANA! which could be taken as a threat, I suppose.
In other nocturnal news I'm finally trying to get a hold of my insomnia/anxiety problem. It's a long story as to how I got there but I'm seeing a psychologist that specializes in the wrecked nerves (I still say nu-ewvs like a Bugs Bunny just because it's more fun) that occur during and after the cancer funtimes.
Mostly just because I need to get some sleep. For some reason night has always been a less than optimal time for my heart and head. I remember as a child seeing that first hint of morning light and thinking "In a few short hours I will have some company!" Then I would listen with every ear muscle I had for any sign of my family waking up.
So sleep has never really been my thang. I love it! Don't get it twisted, holmes. Sleep rules the school. I just am not great at it. Add to that a crippling fear that everyone I love is going to get sick the next day, including me (that's right...I love me too) and you've got yourself some eye bags that would go PERFECTLY with Paris Hilton's new pink hoodie-dress.
I also want to get totally off of any sleep aids. They make my stomach funky and my head hazy. Plus I like the challenge of being a sleep champion without performance enhancing drugs.
My therapist gave me some great advice and a CD about breathing techniques which I'm now totally obsessed with. I probably will annoy you with what I've learned the next time we meet so maybe prepare a few things to daydream about while I go on and on and on ahead of time. Work on your furrowed brow and interested nodding. You'll thank me later.
She also said to make bedtime a routine in relaxing. So I make tea(I'm going to get a real proper tea kettle today I think), make my bed up nice, brush and floss, take 10 mgs of Melatonin (yes I realize that could be taken as a sleep aid that I just said I wouldn't take but it's like all natural, man. Also it's been found to fight cancer and I like fighting cancer when I am able) then I go to bed and do my breathing work. I gotta tell you. Aside from the night Jason had stomach flu and I was up doing a lot of back rubbing and "sorry I gave this to you"ing, it's working like a charm. I still wake up a couple times but not for long and I'm able to keep the really dark thoughts away by just letting them pass through instead of having them in for a sleep over.
Last night I DID dream that I was in an 80's horror movie where the killer would cut the people in half and then spear their body with their own legs in broad daylight in NYC. Then he'd put them in yellow bags and the bags all would still be moving. But you know...baby steps and all that. Even that dream wasn't ALL horrifying. As I was running away from him I found a really cute candle shop and got some incense I liked.
I'm also down ten full pounds. I feel a little more in control of my emotions as I get more sleep. Go figure. Work is good. I have a new laptop so I've been writing a lot more. Today is good. That's as far as I need to get at a time. When I remember that I high five myself. But then at the last minute I do the psych out hair smooth move to keep myself in check.
In other nocturnal news I'm finally trying to get a hold of my insomnia/anxiety problem. It's a long story as to how I got there but I'm seeing a psychologist that specializes in the wrecked nerves (I still say nu-ewvs like a Bugs Bunny just because it's more fun) that occur during and after the cancer funtimes.
Mostly just because I need to get some sleep. For some reason night has always been a less than optimal time for my heart and head. I remember as a child seeing that first hint of morning light and thinking "In a few short hours I will have some company!" Then I would listen with every ear muscle I had for any sign of my family waking up.
So sleep has never really been my thang. I love it! Don't get it twisted, holmes. Sleep rules the school. I just am not great at it. Add to that a crippling fear that everyone I love is going to get sick the next day, including me (that's right...I love me too) and you've got yourself some eye bags that would go PERFECTLY with Paris Hilton's new pink hoodie-dress.
I also want to get totally off of any sleep aids. They make my stomach funky and my head hazy. Plus I like the challenge of being a sleep champion without performance enhancing drugs.
My therapist gave me some great advice and a CD about breathing techniques which I'm now totally obsessed with. I probably will annoy you with what I've learned the next time we meet so maybe prepare a few things to daydream about while I go on and on and on ahead of time. Work on your furrowed brow and interested nodding. You'll thank me later.
She also said to make bedtime a routine in relaxing. So I make tea(I'm going to get a real proper tea kettle today I think), make my bed up nice, brush and floss, take 10 mgs of Melatonin (yes I realize that could be taken as a sleep aid that I just said I wouldn't take but it's like all natural, man. Also it's been found to fight cancer and I like fighting cancer when I am able) then I go to bed and do my breathing work. I gotta tell you. Aside from the night Jason had stomach flu and I was up doing a lot of back rubbing and "sorry I gave this to you"ing, it's working like a charm. I still wake up a couple times but not for long and I'm able to keep the really dark thoughts away by just letting them pass through instead of having them in for a sleep over.
Last night I DID dream that I was in an 80's horror movie where the killer would cut the people in half and then spear their body with their own legs in broad daylight in NYC. Then he'd put them in yellow bags and the bags all would still be moving. But you know...baby steps and all that. Even that dream wasn't ALL horrifying. As I was running away from him I found a really cute candle shop and got some incense I liked.
I'm also down ten full pounds. I feel a little more in control of my emotions as I get more sleep. Go figure. Work is good. I have a new laptop so I've been writing a lot more. Today is good. That's as far as I need to get at a time. When I remember that I high five myself. But then at the last minute I do the psych out hair smooth move to keep myself in check.
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