The ringleader

Posted: October 18, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | 8 Comments

The last couple of weeks have been fraught with girl drama. I don’t like girl drama. Didn’t like it when I was in high school, and like it even less now that I’m old enough to have a high schooler.

Some people thrive on drama, feel energized by it. Like a vampire staring at a bulging vein, they swoop in and add fuel to the fire. Feelings get hurt, words get twisted, alliances shift, and everyone is miserable.

I made the very grown-up decision to excuse myself from the mean-girl games. I was done. Over and out. While the part of me that has a heightened sense of justice wanted to tell the erring party just where they were wrong, maybe even whip out an outlined, bulleted list of grievances, I decided to be the bigger person and let it go. Walk away from the fight.

But guess what? The fight followed me. The erring party spoke to several others with a stake in the fight and it all somehow circled back to me. The erring party made peace with the others, but the message she kept hearing from them was that it wouldn’t be over until she made it right with me.

Why me?

Because I have a big mouth? Because I tend to say what I really think, instead of cloaking the reality in niceties so that the reality becomes blurred? Because I no longer care whether people like me? Because I’m content to live my life according to the standards I set for myself, and as long as I’m being the kind of person I want to be, I don’t give one flip what anyone else thinks? Because watching my sweet mama be eaten alive by cancer made me realize that none of that stuff matters? If someone is going to believe another person’s version of who I am, rather than think about the kind of person I actually am and the way in which I conduct myself, I say have at it. I’m ok with that, and that person is not someone I need as a friend. I figured out a long time ago that I’d much rather have a small, true circle of friends than a gaggle of not-so-true friends. Quality speaks to me more than quantity.

And yet, I found myself in the unpleasant role of the ringleader in this latest girl drama.

That is so not fair.

But neither is life, and I learned that a long time ago, when I was in the 4th grade. The age my daughter is now. There was a Jewish girl in my class who got picked on. I was friends with her, but I was also friends with the people who picked on her. One day on the playground some boys pulled her pants down. She was mortified and cried her eyes out, as I would have too. Kids can be so cruel. Her mother had a loud conversation with the principal. I was brought in for questioning as the ringleader. I told the truth: the boys pulled her pants down. None of the girls were involved in the pantsing. Or is it de-pantsing?  I still don’t know.

Her mother thought the girl was being picked on because she was Jewish. The principal asked me if that was true. I didn’t even know what Jewish was. How strange to be thought of as the ringleader when I didn’t even know the victim was different. She was my friend. I didn’t care about her religion. I still don’t care about things like that.

Later the principal told me that I’d better get used to being thought of as the ringleader. That people will always look at me that way because I’m outspoken and opinionated. Because I’m a leader. I didn’t think of myself as any of those things at that age. But if the principal said it was true, it must be.

I didn’t think of it at the time, but I’ve looked back on that conversation a lot over my life and realized that there’s a heavy burden in being a leader. And that it seems unfair to place that burden on someone just because they’re willing to do something that others aren’t willing to do: lead.

Being outspoken and opinionated is not something I think about, it just is. Like how some people have red hair, or some people have long toes. It is an inherent part of me.

Sometimes it gets me in trouble. Sometimes people assume I’m involved in something when I’m not. Sometimes people assume I know something about a situation when I don’t.

I’m not complaining, that’s just the way it is.

That’s the price you pay for being the ringleader.

Blogging is the last thing I should be doing right now…

Posted: October 7, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 10 Comments

But in between tennis drill and the next chore on the list, I stopped by the mailbox. Haven’t been all week, and the box was crammed full. There’s the usual overload of flyers and junk mail, then a box from Amazon containing the book Payton has been waiting for, and way in the back of the box, a lovely surprise for me. 

I love getting surprises in the mail. 

I’m especially in love with the “Air Mail” sticker. Something about that “Par avion” seems so exotic and speaks of faraway lands interspersing with the everyday aspects of my home life.

Even the return address sticker is beautiful and exotic.The package was so pretty I waited a while to open it. And y’all know I hate waiting. 

The “Petit Paquet” label was so cute and charming that it deserved its own photo. Thank you, Maria, for such a lovely surprise in my mailbox.

After a sufficient waiting period (5 minutes or so, which is a long time for someone as impatient as me), I tore into the package. What a cute little box I found inside. 

I would have been perfectly happy to have a “build your own rocking rabbit” but what was inside the cute little box was even better.

It’s the artwork I ordered from Maria Pace-Wynters.

Oh. My.

It’s even more beautiful in person, and her blogsite blows me away every time I look at it.

I had to just stand there and stare at the cellophane-wrapped pieces for a minute.

And then I tore into them.

Couldn’t get them open fast enough, so I could behold their beauty and revel in the explosion of color.

I came across Maria’s artwork randomly, as I searched google images for an adornment for this post, a while back.

I promptly fell in love with her art. The colors. The composition. The little girls. The foliage. The dreamy quality. I could go on and on, but I’m gonna let the art speak for itself.

The smile on this little girl’s face is such a good antidote to the doldrums, the bad days, the things that go bump in the night. I sure wish I’d been gazing upon that face Wednesday after my terrible, horrible, really bad, no-good day (more on that later, once the stink of that day is fully gone and I can write about it without cussing too much).

Macy picked this one out, for her new room. Well, it’s the same room but we are going to re-do it. Give it a makeover because she refers to it as her nursery. Now that she’s all grown up and doesn’t need lilac walls and a lime-green ceiling, she’s trending toward a bolder wall color, like the vibrant blue of the birds in this pieces. She also really loved the “body art” (yes, she used that term, and she knows who Kat Von D is, so I’m scared, really scared). Nothing against Kat or the inked population, just seems a little freaky for my girl to be so well-versed at such a young age. 

I really did have every intention of putting this print on Macy’s wall, once we lose the baby paint and get the big-girl stuff on, but then I noticed how lovely it looks against the goldenrod paint of my dining room.

Oh, and it looks even better against the fireweed paint in my kitchen.

Come to think of it, they all look great in the kitchen.

I love how the girl’s red hair is set off by the red paint.

Oh, hers too!

But wait, they look pretty great against the olive green of my office, too.

I think I’m gonna need some more artwork.

 

 

Marquee madness

Posted: October 5, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , | 14 Comments

I was having lunch with the girls and could barely concentrate on the conversation. I’d chosen a seat that looked straight out the window, in direct line of the restaurant’s marquee. Big whoop, right? You read the marquee in 3/4ths of a second and your brain moves right back to the conversation. 

Uh, not so much.

Not for me.

See, I used to be an editor. My eyes are specially trained to spot mistakes — in type, on marquees, in people. I can’t turn it off; it’s like my superpower except not as useful as being able to say, leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Once I find a mistake, I’m like a dog with a bone. It bugs me –a lot–if the mistake goes uncorrected.

Of course I had to tell the waiter, and he looked at me like, “So?” To say that he was unconcerned with the marquee containing a spelling mistake would be quite the understatement.

So I did what I had to do — called in the manager.

He was a teeny bit more concerned than the waiter, but only because he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone. Clearly. But I told him that it was bad press to have a marquee mistake, and that it connoted sloppiness that just might permeate his entire operation. His ears pricked up a bit at that, but I’m not sure if it was the message or the overload of syllables that got his attention.

He tried to tell me that they were out of “E’s” and I told him that’s no excuse. Flip over a 3 to create one. Or, even better, delete the “D” and the question mark and go from an interrogative to a declarative sentence.

I ended the grammar lesson by telling him to get the ladder, man!

And he did.

Guess this guy drew the short straw and has to climb the ladder. Or maybe he won and gets to get out of the greasy kitchen and breathe some fresh air. While the boss man breathes down his neck, that is.

He’s on a very important mission (but he probably doesn’t know it). Actually, it’s a double mission: correct the error and shut the bossy lady up. 

What’s next, boss?

Boss man has the offending “D” in his hand, so now ladder boy needs to lose the question mark.

And away it goes….

All done and back to the greasy kitchen. School’s out.

That’s SO much better!

The best photo

Posted: October 2, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

I posted tons of photos in yesterday’s post from the Race for the Cure. Many of them were touching, some were funny, a bunch of them were moving, and a few were even tear-inducing. My head is still full of the sights & sounds of the event, and frankly I didn’t expect it to affect me as deeply as it did. I’m still processing the swirling emotions involved in participating in the race as a survivor. Maybe I will sort these feelings out, and maybe I won’t.

One photo I did not post, however, demands to be seen. It was in the Houston paper this morning, and my race buddy texted it to me before I saw it myself. I’ve been thinking about it all day — through 5 sets of tennis & beers at the club, during my shower, while I started laundry, and as I absent-mindedly helped Macy with her career day project for school, then some more as I scrolled through the Chronicle’s online photo gallery of yesterday’s race.

So without further ado, here it is — the best photo from the 2011 Houston Race for the Cure. Photographer Mayra Beltran outdid herself with this shot. 

Race for the Cure, Houston style

Posted: October 1, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 12 Comments

My fair city hosts the largest Race for the Cure in the country. Yep, that’s right — everything’s bigger in Texas!! Today’s race was pretty great. They say a picture is worth 1,000 words, so I will simply let the photos speak for themselves. 

Pink porta-potties, of course. (My germophobe self did not use them!)

The best hat award goes to this guy….

The Houston Fire Department was out in full force, walking with these cute shirts. 

These 4 young boys had boobies on their minds! Their shirts were in loving memory of a woman named Kathy. I’m sure she’s very proud of these guys. 

There were lots of signs in celebration of or in memory of someone. Very powerful.

Christy & me at the start of the race. Ready to pound the pavement!

There were several groups sporting mohawks, but this girl won for best hair.

One of the many groups at the race. This one was in honor of Moni, who I’m assuming is a grandma. 

One of several little boys in a pink cape. So sweet!

This gal had the best photos for her “In memory of” and “In celebration of” signs. The photo of her mama made me a bit misty-eyed. And the idea of her gene pool made me fear for her. 

I’m guessing this group raised a lot of money for the cause.

This t-shirt was so sweet and so heart-felt, and a great example of simplicity at its best: no neon colors, no bling, just a powerful message that brought me up short.

This guy was not walking next to a women, which  made me wonder if she was too sick to race. Hopefully she was off in a group of survivor sisters, laughing and celebrating.

One of the many bald girls rocking the race.

Of course this one made me want to bawl.

Best tattoo award goes to this chick. Love the font and the message. 

There were lots of long lists — too many, really. I loved this one that mentioned the best 4th grade teacher. How cute is that?

One of the many fancy carriages we saw. By the end of the race, I wanted to ride in one!

Supergirl cape — I want one!

There were lots of guys in pink, but this one in a tutu was one of my favorites.

The “We miss you so much” part of her sign got me, big time. 

The balloon archway at the starting line was awesome! Not so great for the environment, but cool.

“Walking to defeat breast cancer” shirts had a beautiful look. Love the font and the flowers.

Lucy E. Payton, I hope you knew how much you are loved! I’m sure your family  misses that sweet smile every single day.

Another long list. Love the “me!” at the end.

These shirts in memory of Tina Cullum were sweet. I really like the butterfly, and these shirts prove that you don’t have to have pink to get your point across.

1955-2009 is not nearly long enough of a lifespan.

Some of the nearly 40,000 people on the race course.

Lots of people.

Guess who was pushing this stroller? Nana! In her survivor shirt. Go Nana!

I’m assuming this guy’s mom was racing. He was trying to take my picture as I tried to take his — I won!

Cheerleaders had special cheers for us racers today.

I absolutely LOVE this shirt. Can you imagine a world of stage none???

This darling little girl was riding on her dad’s shoulders. I did not envy him. 

The rules said no dogs allowed, but this guy must have slipped through.

She didn’t have any hair, but she did have tissue expanders in preparation for implants!

Race route sign. The logistics and details of pulling this huge race off are staggering.

Her shirt reminded us to never, ever give up hope.

A new survivor celebrates her good fortune. Hooray!

Cutest bra, and it’s on a dude!

One of many shirts about boobs. Not sure what her business is, but she’s in it.

This wagon was all decked out, but no rider in sight.

How utterly sweet is this?

H

He’s got her back.

Another young boy in a pink cape — fantastic!

Getting close to the finish line, which was crowded with supporters, whooping & hollering!

I cut off the edge of the image, but like the sentiment of his sign nonetheless.

The downside of having the biggest race in the country.

She raised more than $2,000 and got a special bib.

Taxi!

The best part of the race — finishing in the SURVIVORS lane!

Our post-race feast…well deserved.

Living my life

Posted: September 30, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 9 Comments

I’ve been quite busy the last few days living my life.

I’m going to say that again — living my life. Those are 3 beautiful little words to someone dealing with cancer. Past or present, once you’ve tangled with the beast, the idea of living, i.e., surviving, is sweet. The idea of living your life, even sweeter because it means that in some way, you are getting back a semblance of  the pre-cancer life.

It’s almost October, which brings a multitude of conflicting emotions and thoughts. National Breast Cancer Awareness Month is confusing for me, and for many other cancerchicks. On one hand, I’m grateful to Komen for destigmatizing what once was a shameful disease. I’m thankful for the research and the advances that have been made, which allow women like me to deal with BC much more easily than my pink ribbon sisters before me. On the other hand, I’m uncomfortable with all the pinkwashing that occurs. At what point can we declare enough with the awareness? Is there really anyone who’s not aware that BC exists and rips people’s lives apart to the tune of 1.3 million worldwide every year? More on that later.

While I’m torn about the Komen issue, I decided last-minute to do the Race for the Cure, which is tomorrow. The Houston version of the race usually attracts nearly 40,000 people so it’s a big deal, literally. I’ll be among the sea of pink tomorrow morning, wishing that the organization putting on the race would focus more on research and metastatic disease and less on putting a pink ribbon on products from fried chicken to dog treats to toilet paper. I’ll proudly wear my hot pink SURVIVOR shirt, basking in the glow of having made it through the plethora of crap cancer threw at me, but I’ll also mourn those who didn’t make it through. 

But that’s tomorrow. Today I’m going to be kicking some butt on the tennis court. It’s the annual member-guest tournament at our club, and Christy and I plan to dominate. She’s a fierce competitor who wants to bring home the hardware. Me too, but I’m also happy to be living my life.

Fiat fever!

Posted: September 9, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

I’m very fortunate to have a good and generous friend in the car business. Thanks to the Rajah, I have been tooling around town this week in the hottest car to hit the streets in a long time — the Fiat 500C. It’s even better than the <a title="I Fiat 500 I drove a while back.

I am in love. The industry’s talking heads have lots of good things to say about this car, namely that “the cutest car just got cuter” with the addition of the fully-automatic canvas soft top. The 500C is super cute, super fun and super chic. I love every single thing about it, which came as a bit of a surprise for this card-carrying member of the “bigger is better” SUV club. Downsizing from a Tahoe loaded with more features that I even know how to use to a Fiat that could practically fit inside the bed of a pickup truck is extreme. And fantastic. And liberating. Oh so very liberating. 

I’ve had so much fun driving this zippy car. I’ll admit, I just wanted to drive it but wasn’t even considering buying it. My Tahoe is cool and comfy and big enough for a family to live in, but after driving the Fiat I realized the Tahoe is not fun. Or zippy. Or chic. It’s nice looking, luxurious, and functional, but not fun. And don’t we all need more fun in our lives?

I’m not a die-hard convertible lover. Trevor has had several convertibles over the last 15 years, and I have to say I’ve never loved any of them. Every once in a while, on a beautiful day, it’s fun to take his car, but I never wanted a convertible.

Until now.

The Fiat’s 3-way power retractable roof changed my opinion about convertibles.

fiatusa.com

The 2-layer canvas roof is awesome. With the push of a button, you have 3 options for topless excitement: sunroof, in which the top slides back from the windshield; panoramic, in which the top slides back further to open up the roof over the back seat; and the full monty, in which the entire roof folds itself accordian-style into a neat stack above the trunk. This effortless motion is quiet, smooth, and fast. And the best part: you can operate the roof while driving up to 50 mph. If raindrops start falling on your head, no need to pull over to put the top up, just push the button as you keep on truckin’. Multitasking at its finest. The rear window is glass, and it covertly slides out of sight when the roof opens. Another super smart feature is that when the roof is open and you need to access the trunk, the car automatically moves the neatly-folded pile up a bit and out of the way, allowing full access to the trunk. If only everything in life worked that smoothly.

caranddriver.com

Perhaps the best part of the 500C is that when the top is open, the roof rails stay in place. It’s quiet and you’re less exposed to road noise, allowing for normal conversation and stereo volume with much less wind. It’s having your cake and eating it, too: you still get the convertible experience without the wind-blown hair. 

The divided side-view mirror on the driver’s side is nice too. The smaller pane of glass shows a more remote view of the traffic behind, so changing lanes is safer. The specs are in line with what you’d expect from a small, sporty car. The engine is a 4 cylinder, 84 cubic inches (whatever that means). The 16 valve engine has 101 hp. The 6-speed automatic that I’m driving is plenty zippy in the 40 to 50 mph range, which is the majority of my driving. On the highway, you’re not going to win a drag race with a bigger car with a more muscley engine, but you shouldn’t be drag racing on the highway anyway. The top speed is 110 mph, which is plenty fast even on Houston freeways. This little beauty weighs somewhere around 2,550 pounds and I’m no car expert but am guessing its lithe frame accounts for its zippiness. (I think I just made that word up but am granting Fiat full permission to use it in promotional materials.)

It may be small, but it’s safe. With 7 airbags, I feel very secure, and I like that the 500C earned Best in Class for rear seat leg and shoulder room, as well as Best in Class for interior sound quality. Another safety feature is the Blue&Me, Fiat’s collaboration with Microsoft that provides hands-free mobile access in the car. As long as your phone is in the car, whether on the dashboard or in your purse, you can make and receive calls using the in-vehicle, voice-activated Blue&Me system.

The gas mileage makes me want to dance, then drive around all day. It sips instead of guzzling (hear that, you greedy Tahoe?). The standard transmission gets slightly better gas mileage than the automatic, at 30 mpg city/38 highway, but the automatic is no slouch at 27 mpg city/36 highway. Even with my limited radius of driving, i.e., noncommuter driving, I was filling up my SUV to the tune of $80 to $90 every week or 10 days. The Fiat can go, go, go on its petite 10-gallon tank. I always dreaded filling up my SUV, not only because of the cost but also because it took forever to quench that beast’s thirst. The Fiat fill-ups are quick & easy, just the way I like it. 

I haven’t attempted this pose, because I don’t actually own the car yet, but this chick at the 500C launch party in England makes it look tempting.

Supermodel Elle Macpherson has the exact car I’m driving, except her steering wheel is on the other side. She’s a loyal Fiat owner who’s been quite outspoken in her love for these cars.  “I love the Fiat 500C, it has that sexy, cool, Italian thing going on!” 

With all the color combinations and the retro styling in the interior, it’s as much a fashion accessory as a car. Here’s the inside of Elle’s 500C, which looks just like mine except for the stickshift and the steering wheel on the right sideHere’s mine.The bone-colored leather steering wheel is so fine, and the shiny red accents across the dash are the most stylish thing in the car world. 

George Clooney is a Fiat fan, too. Check this out.

In one article I read about the Fiat 500C, the proclamation was made that “If you like being the center of attention, never has the price of admission been this low.” This car most definitely gets people’s attention. I’ve seen drivers craning their necks to get a better look as we drive; several times I’ve come out of the store to find someone taking a picture of the Fiat in the parking lot. I’ve answered lots of questions (how does it drive? what’s the gas mileage? how much do they cost? what colors are available?) and happily introduced the curious people in my neck of the woods to this cute little car. 

At the New York Auto Show, the 500C was called “relentlessly adorable” and it was said that its “oddball modernism still astonishes.” It’s “super-chic, super-stylish, and effectively retro.” Nice. 

I read another review that had this to say about this little Fiat: “The new 500 is remarkably similar to its predecessor with a flowing and harmonic design which softly mutters – rather than screams – retro. In flowing Italian. The end result of Fiat’s effort is a car that people smile at – on the streets, in parking lots and in traffic jams. Not many cars can be called ‘sweet’, but the Fiat 500 can definitely satisfy any automotive sweet tooth.”

If you need a sweet little Fiat, get with the good people at Fiat of Clear Lake. Tell Joey and Donald that you need a dose of Fiat fun. Ciao!

 

 

 

I <3 Fiat!

Posted: July 21, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

This week I’ve had the pleasure of driving a Fiat 500 from Clear Lake Fiat. Oh, how fun!

I love this car.

It’s so cute, so fun, so zippy.

It’s way better than a Smart Car or a Mini Cooper. Much more stylish, and it gets a lot of attention.

I’ve had tons of people ask me this week what kind of car it is. The waiter at my favorite Malaysian restaurant chased my bud Sharon & me outside after lunch because she left her credit card. He took one look at the Fiat, parked right in front, and asked if it was electric. No, not electric but way cool. He expressed in his broken English that he lusted after the Fiat. Big love. I can’t count how many times someone has commented on the Fiat this week.

It’s a teeny little thing. Way smaller than my gas-guzzling SUV. It’s super fun to drive, with its tiny size and rockin’ engine, it feels and sounds like a high-performance sports car. I can’t help making the “nunnn nunnnn” sound when I hear the engine rev; this car is made by the same people who make the Ferrari after all.  I feel like Mario behind the wheel. The other day with Payton in the front seat, we were just like Mario & Luigi.

googleimages.com

Lest I sound like a traitor with all the Fiat love, let me state that I do like my SUV. It’s big, it’s comfy, it wraps me in a loving embrace of protection from any unpleasant jarring or ruts in the road. It allows me to tower over other drivers (something I secretly really dig), and I feel safe in it. But this little Fiat is something else. It possesses few attributes of my SUV but is so much fun I don’t even care. It’s zippy and carefree. Doesn’t everyone want to live a zippy, carefree life? (Get a Fiat, and you can!)

It has a super-tight turning radius and I can whip in and out of any parking space, even if I’m going “up the down staircase” as my sweet mama used to say. Sometimes I park my big ol’ Tahoe at the end of the row of parking spaces and trek to the door of the store, just to make sure I can get in and out easily. No such worries with the Fiat. Any parking space, any time, and no adjusting necessary. 

The hatchback is so lightweight I can easily reach it and shut it with one hand, while the other hand is laden with my tennis bag, a cold beverage, bags of groceries, or the ever-present iPhone. My SUV’s hatch is so wide and so heavy it doesn’t even have a strap for shutting but rather a button to push to close it automatically.

This would be a great car for a teenager. I’m no teenager, but I covet it as my wheels when I’m free of kids, carpool, a Costco haul, baseball gear, and all the flotsam & jetsam that weighs down a suburban mom.

Man, even the wheels are cute on this little baby.

There’s not a car on the market that matches the 500 in stylistic expression. This car scores major style points. The interior is decidedly European, with the seat-adjusting controls on the right instead of the left. Never fear, though–the steering wheel is on the left side. You might start speaking with an Italian accent, but that’s up to you.

Everything inside the Fiat is designed to be stylish and fun. Check out the teensy little dashboard, all rounded like a race car. 

The gear shift on this particular Fiat is automatic, with the option to paddle shift, or shift gears without having to clutch. Personally, I like to clutch as it allows one to peel out if one so chooses, but the paddle shift is a nice option if your hands tend to be full while driving, or if you’re on an incline. 

To paddle shift, you push the gearshift straight down, near the “D” and the plus and minus at the bottom, which allow you to shift and downshift. How many times can I use the word shift in my text? Shift, shift, shift. If you don’t want to paddle shift, push the gearshift down and to the right, and the smart little Fiat will shift for you. It’s the best of both worlds, really.

One word of caution about the Fiat 500: the gas tank is small. Like the rest of it. No junk in the trunk here. The tank is 10.5 gallons. I think my SUV uses that much gas just to get out of the neighborhood. Fuel economy is fantastic in the Fiat: upper 20s in town and mid-30s on the highway. 

One of my favorite things about the Fiat is the round headrests in the backseat. How cool are those? Super chic.

Chic, and safe, too. The European version of the Fiat 500 was awarded a 5-star crash rating, and the US version has had several safety-minded upgrades, making it even safer than the 500s across the Pond.

I’m loving the Fiat. I haven’t even thought about driving my SUV for a week, and once I do, I expect to feel like a stranger in a strange land. I’ll be channeling Gulliver and wishing I was Mario instead. 

Meanwhile, back in suburban Houston

Posted: June 26, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

Hi, this is Trevor. Nancy said it would be OK for me to fill in a little about how we are coping for the weekend with Mom not around. To sum up, we are getting by but there’s no doubt we are all ready for her to come home.

For me it means struggling to coordinate logistics and that isn’t made any easier by the cold I developed Thursday night (I am much improved this morning, thanks for asking). Everybody is so busy and has so many places to go, it’s tough to track. Fortunately Nancy is very organized and left a nice list. And very, very fortunately there are plenty of people around us to help pick up the slack whether it’s Macy being invited for a sleepover or one of Payton’s coaches getting him home from practice. And then there’s Ed who is the most selfless and helpful beer drinking buddy ever. Thanks to all of you.

It’s tough to get a read on Payton, still waters run deep and all that. He misses his mama but would never show it outwardly. Besides, he’s much too preoccupied with baseball at this time of year. If you are interested, the First Colony American 11’s are rolling again this year, winning their first three games by a combined margin of 41-6. I realize that I’m now venturing into bragging territory, but Payton is really playing well, as are his teammates. Some stats in three games against the all-stars from around Houston: 6 for 9 with two doubles, two walks, 7 RBI. The boy can play a little and he did not inherit a lick of this talent from me. But the competition gets tougher as they advance and we will definitely need all of our Greek mamas in the stands to cheer them on in the next round against West University which is the only other undefeated team left in the District 16 tournament.

Macy has had plenty of activities to keep her busy in Nancy’s absence. There’s been a humane society camp, a sewing camp, the aforementioned sleepover and tennis lesson this afternoon. Click to her blog to get her take if you dare. Be forewarned she has a pretty warped sense of humor, I’m pretty sure she did inherit that from me. She did mention her favorite part of Mom being out of town is the fact that Dad isn’t as punitive towards those who pass gas.

So all is well here. We want to strike that balance of being capable of coping without Nancy so she can relax and enjoy her long weekend yet being grateful that the absence is not too long. We can keep it together for a long weekend, but any more than that requires a bigger village. And to all of you reading from that village, I want to express my sincere appreciation for all that you’ve done for us over the past year. I think one of the best tributes to Nancy and what she means to so many people around her is the fact that dozens of people rallied to our side and got us through the worst of her “journey” if I can borrow her scare quotes. Thank you very much.

National Cancer Survivors Day

Posted: June 5, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Well, we have Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, Grandparents’ Day, and even Bosses’ Day for pete’s sake, so why not Cancer Survivors Day? Makes perfect sense, as there are millions of us around the world. I do wonder, though, why there’s no apostrophe in the title. I double-checked it on the NCSD website and sure enough, no apostrophe.

It’s today, by the way — I feel like I should wear a shirt that says “Kiss Me, I Survived Cancer” but I’m not really the kissy type. I guess I could wear my “cupcakes” t-shirt, which I love, but then it seems like my “cupcakes” get the credit for kicking cancer to the curb when really, they were the culprit in the first place. Without them, I never would have had breast cancer, so I’m not giving them the credit for having survived it. I will wear it to the gym, though, because I love the look on people’s faces as they read it, then do a not-so-subtle double-take at my chest.

So what is National Cancer Survivors Day all about, anyway? Probably something a little more meaningful than wearing a snarky t-shirt and giggling to myself as the shockwaves from said shirt ripple through the gym. According to the NCSD website,

“National Cancer Survivors Day® is an annual, treasured worldwide Celebration of Life that is held in hundreds of communities throughout the United States, Canada, and other participating countries. Participants unite in a symbolic event to show the world that life after a cancer diagnosis can be meaningful and productive.”

Well, I’m certainly proud to be part of an annual, treasured worldwide celebration of life. Although I think I missed the parade. Considering how many people are affected by cancer, you’d think this day would get a bit more press. There’s probably a Lifetime for Women movie about it and I missed that too.

As usual, I have lots of questions about this annual, treasured worldwide celebration of life. Who qualifies as a survivor? And when does survivorship begin? What time was the parade? The National Cancer Survivors Day Foundation defines a “survivor” as anyone living with a history of cancer – from the moment of diagnosis through the remainder of life. I think it’s perhaps a bit more personal than that. I also think it’s more than just surviving cancer. I also survived a nasty infection and a nearly  year-long regime of some pretty bad-ass antibiotics. I survived a complicated and intense reconstruction process, and I survived yet another long, hard recovery.

I considered myself a survivor as soon as my mastectomy was over. Surgically removing the tumors, and thereby the cancer, from my body was when my status changed from “regular person” to “survivor.” So for me, I became a survivor in the late afternoon of May 13, 2010. Although I certainly didn’t feel like much of a survivor at the time, bandaged and battered, stitched up and sore. Moving my body at all was a seemingly unattainable feat, and raising my arms high enough to put chap stick on my lips was definitely unattainable. I wasn’t able to slick my own lips for a day or so.

At the time, I had no concept of what a double mastectomy truly meant or looked like. So focused was I on ridding the cancer that I gave zero thought to the aftereffects of the surgery. Even now, in the hazy afterglow of just one year’s time, I struggle to remember exactly what I looked like after that first surgery. In fact, when Trevor gave me The SCAR Project book for my birthday a few days ago, I looked at the portraits of mastectomied women and asked, were my scars vertical or horizontal? For a brief moment, I couldn’t remember. (They were vertical, BTW.)

Deborah Lattimore

That’s why I’m so grateful for things like The SCAR Project and for women like Deborah Lattimore. Like the women who were photographed for The SCAR Project, Deborah Lattimore didn’t want to forget what she looked like after being mastectomied. This defines a survivor, IMHO: facing a shitty situation with not just courage but with moxie. Reading Deborah’s blog, I’m so impressed and moved and in awe of her take-no-prisoners attitude. I immediately felt a kinship with her as I read what she wrote about her post-cancer silhouette soon after her bilateral mastectomy: “my body is still ‘re-architecturalizing’ and will for the coming year. eventually my chest will be completely flat and the scars will be an even line. i really love my skinny small body!” Cheers to Deborah on this annual, treasured worldwide celebration of life. Wish I could tell her happy National Cancer Survivors Day to her face, and to bask in the supreme power of a strong, confident, self-assured woman who tells cancer to bugger off then shows the world the true face of a survivor. No padded bras, no prostheses here. Not that there’s anything wrong with padded bras or cutlets. How we face the world post-mastectomy is an immensely personal decision, and I in no way want to imply judgement on how any woman makes that decision. For me personally, I applaud women like Deborah who celebrate their mastectomied bodies and view them as a badge of honor. In our breast-obsessed culture, this is no easy thing.

So happy National Cancer Survivors to everyone. I’m thinking we should all have cake. What kind of cake is appropriate for NCSD? Something festive, for sure (you know how I love celebrations). This one is nice:

Love the colors, but the pink butterfly kinda creeps me out.

Maybe this one, then:

Nah, I’m not much of a cat person, and it’s not a birthday cake I’m after, although I do love the idea of the cat eating a fish-shaped cake. Maybe we survivors should eat a tumor-shaped cake. Ewww, gross. Never mind.

Ok, so something breast-cancer related:

Or not. Definitely not.

This one is pretty, and the lemon filling looks yummy:

This one is hilarious, although not appropriate for the annual, treasured worldwide celebration of life:

Maybe something from this bakery:

Surely they’d have just the right kind of cake for the annual, treasured worldwide celebration of life. Something like this, perhaps?

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →