A sad blog post with a happy ending.

I've been thinking lately about some sad things.


My Mom passed away in February, 1994 from pancreatic cancer.  While I've moved beyond the true "hurt" of that, I miss her a lot (more than a lot).  I think about her all the time and there are many, many things that remind me of her.  I often cry when I hear certain songs or see certain movies or other things that remind me of her.  I see things and often think, "Mom, you would have loved that!"


My Step-Mom passed away this October from breast cancer.  She fought a long, hard battle.  She was brave and did all that she could to survive.  I miss her.  I especially miss her silly giggle and her always positive attitude about everything.  She was the kind of person I could only wish to emulate.


I'm sad for my Dad who lost two very special, very beautiful women.  He's lonely and I wish I could make that go away.


My Sister-in-Law had breast cancer.  She is a survivor!!  What makes me sad about this is that she had to go through surgery, chemo, and radiation when she didn't deserve to.  I understand that life isn't fair but it still sucks big time.


About two weeks ago, I went for my yearly mammogram.  I've been getting them done longer than a lot of women because my family is "loaded" with cancer.  My doctor felt we should start a baseline earlier than most women (well before my 40s). 


A few days after my yearly "squishing," I got a call from the clinic saying that the radiologist had found something "concerning" and wanted me to come back for more images and possibly an ultrasound.  I couldn't get an appointment for two weeks so the waiting game was on. 


I tried to not think about it but it was hard.  I thought of my Sister-in-Law and her successful battle.  I thought about my Step-Mom and her unsuccessful battle.  I thought about my Mom and wished she was here so I could cry on her shoulder.


My follow-up appointment was yesterday.  I got squished big time in that machine.  Lots and lots of pictures.  Then the tech asked me to come back for more after the radiologist had reviewed the first set.  I have to admit; when she called me back I thought, "This must be bad."


The radiologist came to see me and said that everything was fine.  She explained that in a mammogram, the images are 3D not one dimensional like an x-ray.  I know that but what I didn't know (which she explained) is that you can get something called "bounce back" in the image.  This can come from veins, fat or muscle.  It shows up like a "spot" on the image.  The original spot from two weeks ago wasn't there and there were some others that were more obvious (images were taken from many different angles this time).


My drive to the clinic was hard.  I was sick to my stomach and a little scared.  My drive home was happy and I felt elated.  I thought of all the people who drive home with the word cancer in their diagnosis.  I hope that for all of them, success is the path their lives will take.


It was a bag of mixed emotions for me recently but the ending was happy.  I'm so glad I can say that.

Who are They?

While we were out and about yesterday, someone said:  "You know, they say you should take care of that right away."

That got me thinking (and no, my brain didn't start smoking from being used!).

Who are "They?"

They say a lot.  Sometimes it's true or good advice.  But sometimes, it's a lot of hogwash.  Nothing that anyone should even listen to, let alone do.

What makes They the experts?

Do They have a degree in the thing that's being talked about?  Do They work in that particular field?  Are They some sort of doctor?  Are They a rocket scientist?

What makes us think that They are right? 

"They say" is used in a lot of conversations.  I know that I usually nod and agree.  Why?

Am I the only crackpot thinking about this?

Another set of questions that I assume won't be answered. 

Maybe They know?

Fun with words and pictures

I found this "game" at one of my favorite blogs, Look! A Baby Wolf!.  It's in my blog roll . . . check it out.

Here are the rules: “Answer these 10 questions by typing your answer into Google image search. Take the number image that corresponds to your question number and use only that image to illustrate your answer. You don’t have to use images you find objectionable but otherwise you must use whatever image comes up, whether you think it makes sense or not. Post the questions and your image answers on your blog.”
Ready?  Here we go!

 1.  What was your first job?

2.  What is your job now?

3.  What is your first born child's name?  (I don't have kids so I'll use the first pet I ever owned as an adult.)

4.  When you were a child, what was your favorite cartoon?

5.  What genre of music do you listen to most?

6.  Where were you born?

7.  Who is the first US President you can actually remember being in office?

8.  Where would you most like to visit that your haven't been?

9.  Describe in one word your first boyfriend/girlfriend.

10.  What would you say to Barack Obama if you could only  use five words or less?

 

Even I . . .

could be a stripper.

Let me explain.

Many years ago, two very good friends were getting married.  The most important crucial part of a wedding, the bachelor party, was planned and Angry attended wasn’t going to miss it.

As usual, a group of guys travelled from strip club to strip club enjoying the “scenery” and drinking copious amounts of beer. 

I waited up for Angry to hear details about the party.  How much fun did everyone have and how did they all behave?

He regaled me with tales about the evening:  What strip clubs they went to, how much it cost to get in, what beer they bought for the bachelor, how many girls danced, how pretty the girls were, how fake the boobs were.



Enough fake boobs & high heels for everyone!

Then he told me about the last strip club they went to.  It was only about half an hour from bar time.  He said the club was not “that cool” and that the girls were not “all that great.”  I asked him what that meant.  He explained that the strippers looked “skanky and used up.”

Next thing I know he stops talking, looks me right in the eye and says, “You know, even you could be a stripper.”  WHAT?  I said, “good night” and starting walking towards the bedroom.  He followed me like a lost puppy and said, “Wait, you’re not THAT bad.”

This story has been used for years to humiliate Angry.  I think everyone that has ever heard the story has told it to every single person they know.  Angry is famous!!

Cats with Thumbs

Because I'm too damn lazy to write an actual blog post, I'm going to share this video with you.

Yes, it's an ad.  Yes, it's FUNNY!