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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Rubberband Ball Update

2010





Today


Huh. it doesn't look that much bigger but it has to be, right?

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.

Calmarse!

That means CALM DOWN. Which I can't do. Because I am going to Mexico with my hermanas and brother in law and amore' on Sunday.

We are staying HERE!!!!!



Come on. Do you SEE all those swimming pools and do you SEE all that ocean? It's no secret that water is sort of my favorite thing in the world and that swimming is the only sport-type thing I love to do.

I also like to drink margarita's with my sisters on a BEACH!!! OH and I also like getting a massage at a spa even though I've never done it before but am going to in four days!

Um and oh yeah, I ALSO like being with my husbo for four whole days in a ROW!

I was up all night last night with happiness stomach flips. I have so much work to finish up but am all out of focus. My sunglasses and black dinner dress just arrived and it spun me back into crazed excitment mode.

I am trying my best to reign it in. I'm currently drinking a tea with the word "Calm" on the bag with the hope it has magic powers. So far it just tastes like roses and Splenda.

I'm going to plan to have a Diet root beer around 4pm as a treat to keep my mind off of things. Here's hoping that will work.

I will take loads of pictures and report back in two weeks.

nos vemos más tarde retoños! (see ya later suckaz!) I don't think you're suckaz, you guys. I just like the way it translates.

lo siento por el comentario de los retoños

Nevermind.

I feel basically 100% better. I think I just had a little funk/hormone hitch in my giddy up. Turns out a weekend in Michigan with some wonderful girlfriends and a Friday with lots of attention from Jason was all I needed. Phew. Glad my heart remains fairly simple to lift.

BUT I did learn some valuable lessons from my last, Charlie Brown-esqe post. Just do the stuff you mean to do. Simple. So today I quit drinking soda of any kind. I have gotten into a terrible Diet Coke habit and it's just such a dumb thing to drink. So it's out. I'm starting my walking again today since it's so pretty out. I might even....gulp....join that gym.

Also, I'm in a band. A band that I started with Anne. It's going to be super fun for all. I can't WAIT until I can announce our first gig. You will all come and dance your faces off.

And really all that matters right now is that in 14 days I will be in Mexico on a beach reading books and happy sighing a lot.

In conclusion, I was again reminded the past two weeks that my greatest victory in life remains the people I get to love and who love me back. They all make me laugh until I cry and also cry with me at Gannon's, if need be. (winking at M and T and J).

So life is super groovy and I'm glad I have one.

Love and kitten paws,
Crescent

Valentine's Times.

I have no real idea why but I have been a teary eyed mess the past couple of weeks. Okay I lied. I have some ideas. I think some of it is my medicine that blocks my hormones and then making pretend hormones to try and trick my body. My body is not easily fooled and doesn't like these wannabe estrogen impostors.

Also, mid February. Am I right? Good lord. It's just a bleak, gray, cold time out there.

Also, babies. Always with the babies. It's a real thing with me. It's also hard to watch Jason want them too. Makes me sadder than a one legged puppy at a puppy race.

Plus I'm feeling the slight panic of getting older for some reason. Probably because I am getting older but it never bothered me before.

The other night I had whatever show we were watching paused while Jason did something (let's face it. he was getting licorice. he has a problem.) It was totally silent and I just sat there listening to the tick of our disco Jesus clock. I started getting hyper aware of what each of those ticks meant. I felt like if I took a deep enough breath I could pull it backwards. When I realized I couldn't and what that meant for all of us I felt like jumping out of my skin and going back to live in that tree I used to dream about during chemo. Imagine Jason's surprise to return from a licorice break and finding just my skin lounging in the easy chair! Horrifying! Anway, then I calmed myself down but trying to pretend (much like poser estrogen) that I wasn't upset...that I was actually excited because each tick brought me closer to Friday! I do love Fridays. More than most.

Again, hormones probably.

I have so much that I'm happy about but also so much I want to do and I just feel like every time I make a decision to get going on all these dreams and wants I get stuck again. Next thing I know another year has passed.

I am writing about it in the hopes it unsticks me, I guess.

In other news I'm going to dinner with my best friend's husband for Valentine's Day. ESCANDALO! We are going to Acadia so that I can at least get a glimpse of my adorable, but very busy, husband. Oh and the food. REALLY looking forward to the food. So tonight will cheer me up I bet.

I acutally feel better already. Getting it out is good. Thanks blog. I loves ya.

You Don't Know From Cold!

Walking home last night I thought "I need a hat!" I left mine at a friends and it was freezing. As I was continuing my hat having day dreams I noticed my street is currently a MadMax looking construction zone. The roads were all wet and there were giant drill trucks and stuff (not sure what they are called so drill trucks it is!). Then there was this giant hose that ran at least a full block down the middle of the street. However the sidewalks were open and I have a strange interest in construction. I could watch it all day. So I kept on the path even though it was starting to look sort of dangerous.

Let's just cut to the chase here. The hose broke RIGHT as I passed it. I heard a "sssss" sound then a "clink!!!" and the braket holding it together flew off! I was being sprayed by a fire hose basically. Drenched. I started saying "Good Lord! Good Lord!" then "jeeze louise!!!" then "shit! SHIT!" but I couldn't run because the ground was instantly the most slippery surface of the planet at that moment. So I had to sort of just shuffle out of the line of the spray.

My hair was dripping wet for about two seconds then it was all ice. ALL ICE! You think this is hyperbole? You are incorrect. If anything it's hyPObole. My coat turned into a rock hard armor of feezing coldness. Eyelashes? Icelashes. Boots? ice covered scoots.

I'm not sure I've ever been that cold before. I got home and told my cat all about it. He was shocked and concerned. Once we realized it was for SURE not any kind of sewage we both felt better.

Love,
Crescent

Night Terror

I realize this blog seems to have evolved into Jason's Nocturnal Transgressions but I have one more funny one.

The past two nights (and a couple times in the past year) when I get up for my 3 am pee break and come back into the room he jumps and gasps like I'm some 9 foot murder monster coming to get him. Then when he realizes it's just his normal ol' wife he makes mad sounds like I did it on purpose. Every time I have to say "Jason! Jason! It's just me!" Then he says something like "man" or "jeeze Crescent". Like I was lumbering in with a human skin mask carrying a mallet or something when in reality I'm tiptoeing into the room in my Sterling Sharpe jersey, pigtails and sweatpants. Yipes...when I put it that way I guess it is a little scary.

quick thoughts

I have come up with the perfect way to sum up being in your early 20's as a woman.

Every single girl with brown eyes thinks Brown Eyed Girl is being played for her only. I did. Although for me it probably was because, well...let's face it.

Anyway, I'm working on a way to sum up the 30's but have to fine tune.

So far all I can come up with is "in your 30's you'd rather have someone make you noodles or make you laugh hard instead of play a song that's actually not even really about you."

Like I said. Needs fine tuning. Plus that's not even true. Just the other day I begged Jason to listen to a Wilco song some day when I wasn't around and think about me being awesome while he did so. Sort of takes the romance out of it when I DEMAND he feel things for me but whatever. He takes it like a champ. or CHUMP! AmIright??? kidding kidding. Thank you Chicago.

Also, Jason was sleep walking again this a.m. and started trying to put the comforter on over his head like a sweatshirt. As the covers started slowly pulling away from me I tried to wake him up saying "Jason! What are you doing!" he just stood there with the duvet over his head not moving then finally said "I have heartburn" and walked out of the room and came back two minutes later smelling of red licorice. I'm no Nancy Drew but crunching the numbers I'm lead to believe he didn't take any Tums but just stood in our dining room eating Twizzlers then came back to bed.

Love,
Crescent

Donut Shame

I am doing pretty well with the weight loss thing. It's slow going but it's going. I can tell I look healthier already. Although right now I'm a giant embarrassed splotchy red mess because I just mortified myself.

Wednesday is donut/bagel day at work. I have to get them at Dunkin Donuts and set them up. I really REALLY love donuts. I haven't had a donut in three weeks. OR a bagel. This has not been easy for me.

Today I was early to work with the donuts and bagels and took extra care setting them all up in the kitchen. I made them look extra delicious. BUT I stayed strong and walked back to my desk and ate my boiled egg and yogurt. (just typing that made me frown and pout....stupid egg. dumb yogurt. rassafrassa....)

I got stressy with work and found myself lifted up from my chair and walking, nay, floating towards the kitchen. Pulled by a force stronger than I. I think I blacked out a little because all of a sudden I was standing there....in the kitchen....just staring at the donuts. Staring. I thought "I'll be that moron that cuts it in half and just has partial satisfaction." "I'll shove the whole thing in my mouth really fast and it will be like it never happened!" "I'll bring it to my desk, wrap it in a warm, soft Kleenex and just put it in my drawer and name it Gertie so that I grow attached and can't bring myself to eat her."

So however long it took you to just read that is the amount of time I was standing there....staring at donuts. If I were a size 4 this might be a cute thing. "look at that sweet petite lady wanting sugary pink breakfast sweets..awww" but when you are 30 lbs overweight and your brow is furrowed it's just sort of hard to watch, I would imagine. Like a jailhouse documentary or Precious.

Thinking I was alone with my donut thoughts. I finally found my willpower and slowly turned to walk away, shaking my head "no no...no donut" as I did so only to find three co-workers at the sink watching the whole, sad, ordeal. I could've just walked away but no I muttered "heh heh...thought I wanted one...trying to...not."

Victory?

A Pound Of Flesh

I'm down a pound. Don't worry. I won't update every time I lose a pound. Probably.

This is what the internets told me a pound of fat looks like:



Blergh-o-rama. Maybe that's what OTHER people's fat looks like but mine is more like this:



That's right. I'm made of kitties. Just ask Twinkles...that's my elbow.

What? What happened? Did I make a super weird joke about elbow cats and then faint? I thought so. Better have some rice cakes.

What is UP?

Fat. Fat is up. I am tired of the ill fitting pants and the shirts that ride up. I have taken action. Lipo!! Kidding,kidding. You all know how I feel about unnecessary surgery.

I AM however embarking on this whole "change of habits" journey I hear tell about. I'm using a really great app called Lose It! (the exclamation point makes me feel like they are yelling at me but that's good....it's like the ARMY). It's basically Weight Watchers but free and a little more aggro. AGGRO!!!! Plus it includes a good deal of exercise. A word I have trouble spelling and thing I don't usually do.

I'm slated to be down to my wedding weight by March 2012. I liked that weight. It wasn't my thinnest but I looked nice and curvy without the squish. I loathe the squish. I poke it sometimes just to stay on target. Poke poke...I'm doing it now. Right in my belly. So gross.

The bottom line is this: I like myself. I think I look great. I'm glad to be alive. Jason likes me and thinks I'm pretty. I don't have big hang ups about food I just love it is all. As J says "I don't eat because I'm stressed or sad...I eat because it's delicious." Amen little one, amen. Jason, by the way, has lost 20 lbs. so this helps in my motivation. Envy is one of my true motivators, for better or for worse.

Mostly I just am ready to be healthy. It's time. January will be a year of not being on cancer treatments (except Tamoxifen of course but that's no big whoop). Life is moving on. Jason is embarking on his dream of opening a restaurant. I am ready to look and feel my best.

So that's that. Just wanted to put it out here to keep myself accountable. Because BOY would my face be red if in 5 months I came back here and was like "um...so my new thing is being extra EXTRA fat. I wash myself with a stick."

Wish me luck and here's to less squish!!!

Sunday Morning at The Prah's.

Sunday. 7 am. I am in a deep deep sleep, for once.

Jason: Crescent. Crescent. Crescent. Crescent.
Crescent: Dude! What?? What's wrong??? I was crashed out!
Jason: I had a dream that Cee Lo came into the restaurant and had his whole crew with him.
Crescent: ....
Jason: OH and he had some dogs and got to play with them.
Crescent: That's great, hon.
Jason: Yeah. It really was. Those dogs were so cute!
Crescent: Awesome.
Crescent: I had a dream that I was running from some spies trying to do undercover work for my boss and I got shot in the butt with a tranq dart.
Jason: Whoa.
Crescent: Yeah.
Crescent: Hey you haven't said anything about my pumpkin I carved.
Jason: I know.
Crescent: Don't you like it?
Jason:.......
Crescent: Mention it!
Jason: it's the white elephant in the room, isn't it.
Crescent: you mean purple.
Jason: it's the 30 pound gorilla in the room.
(we both bust out laughing because he is picturing a tiny gorilla and I'm picturing a very tall skinny ill gorilla)

(silence)

Jason: I think it's funny you got shot with a tranquilizer dart in your butt.
Crescent: It was awful. While you were busy dreaming of puppies and Cee Lo I was taking darts for America.
Jason: (in low voice) You've got a f*&%^in dart in your neck.
Crescent: (in low voice) What? You're crazy. I like you but...you're...you're crazy.

then we just kept quoting Old School until we fell back to sleep.

A Key, A Star, A Leaf and A Feather

This is the only superstition I've allowed myself during my cancer run. My, then, 17 year old nephew gave me this bracelet when he came to visit me the week before my lumpectomy. He did NOT want to hear or talk about the cancer. It made him visibly sick and worried. But he showed up with this in a little gift bag with a candle and it spoke volumes. He said it was "a house warming gift" but I'd lived in that apartment for about five years at the time.

I wore it to every test, surgery, lab, x-ray, mammo, chemo and radiation treatment. It used to be all silver and the feather was blue and the star was white but it's all rubbed off. I like it that way. Shows the wear and tear of the journey.

I have another mammogram today and I almost forgot it on my bed room door knob (where it lives when I'm doing dishes). Thankfully I could feel it missing from my wrist and went back for it.

I'm always nervous on these days. Especially when the weather reminds me of that first mammo where they found the mass. It's like ghost stories where they say "it was a night JUST like this" then large Marge scares the shit out Pee Wee.

The Human Skull

Last night in writing class we all were handed pictures of an object and had to try to describe them to the rest of the class without telling too much. Kind of like Taboo. For example if you had a picture of a fire hydrant you couldn’t say what it’s used for or something LIKE it…had to be purely physical description.

First off the teams were uneven so I ended up getting my own picture and not being on a team so I had to describe it by myself. So it was a little daunting from jump street.

It was just a real nice run of the mill human skull. I had some good clues...three black holes (which I at first called “three black circles” and then remembered that a nose hole is not at ALL a circle), moving parts, smooth, white-ish grey…etc.

Keep in mind I was the only one that didn’t guess the previous items correctly ( hanger and fire hydrant) because as people starting using dimensions and circumfrences and hypotonus's's and angles and stuff my brain went into math fear protection mode and cranked up the groovy sounds of a Rita Coolidge song I had listened to right before class to drown out the scary words.
Enjoy it while you read the rest of the story if you like. It's very soothing.



When I came to it was my turn to guess. For the hydrant I guessed “silo.”
For the hanger I guessed “some sort of playground equipment? or a fence?”. So it wasn’t going well for me. I leaned over and whispered to my teacher that I wasn’t very good at understanding left brain thinking sometimes. My teacher said that was just fine and not what the exercise was about so not to worry. He’s a super great guy and teacher, and yet I swear I could still feel that he was suppressing a giggle fit.

Back to the skull. No one had any clue what my picture was (except for me and the teach, of course) so he started trying to help me describe it to the class. He asked me if everyone in the room owned one of these. I said “I....think so? Wait. Oh...Yes. Yes. Everyone owns one.” The teacher and I both started sort of giggling over that answer and my face turned the color of a fire hydrant (or silo). I was laughing out of embarrassment but I suspect he was probably wondering how I was able to hold down a job, speak a human language and feed myself.

When everyone scratched their heads (that everyone in class owned) and still didn't get it, he asked what size the item was.

I replied, “About the size of a basketball”. He totally started losing it, but tried to keep his cool. I realized I may have overshot and said “a small basketball...a small one.”

Finally, after everyone was SURE it was a bowling ball I revealed the picture.

Now I’m sure it didn’t happen this way but it FELT like the entire class in unison said “The size of a BASKETBALL???!”

Then I got the kind of giggles that make my eyes water and tried to hold them in. Mercy showed herself and the class ended and I practically jogged home.

The only thing I can say is thank GOD Jason wasn’t there to break in with one of his “well Crescent does have an abnormally giant head” jokes. He probably sensed it all the way downtown at his job and doubled over with a splitting headache and vomited on the floor. His body and mind fighting through the loss of missing a "My wife's head is SO big......" opportunity.