Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Wow.  It has certainly been a long time since I've written anything.  It's not that I don't think about blog posts.  I have many good intentions; I have many ideas for posts and notes jotted down; however, I have moved my laptop from the couch to the table.  This is both good and bad.  It's good in that I'm less likely to get sucked into watching tv and hanging out online.  It's bad in that I don't hang out watching tv and hanging out online.  This change in location also means that I'm more apt to do "drive by updates" on facebook, but less likely to sit down long enough to compose something thoughtful.  I've read enough blogs to realize that the self-indulgent, thoughtless blogger is worse than no blogger.  Hence, my silence.

However, today was such a nice day that I'm compelled to share it with you.  Actually, the day had nothing to do with me.  It was a beautiful day for my youngest son, aka The Feral Third.

TFT has had a rough month or so.  You see, his soccer team merged with a team from another club and there will now be enough kids to have two teams.  Sadly, TFT did not make the A team.  Even sadder, all of his buddies did make the A team.  This has been very upsetting and devastating for him as you might imagine.  No matter what spin we put on it, he knows that he is going to be playing weaker teams, in a weaker division, not going to tournaments, and will not have the prestigious coach.  He also believes this marks the beginning of the end of his soccer career and he foresees playing JV in high school while his buddies all play varsity.  Yes, we adults know he's waaaaay over analyzing this all, but reality is that he is over analyzing this and this is his life right now.  He totally feels slighted, insulted, and demeaned.

Yes, we've all been there, done that and lived to tell the tale.  He just has a lot of emotional energy to put into this tale these days (weeks?  this has dragged on and on).

Anyway, to make what has been a miserable month shorter for the sake of the rest of you (no one else should have to live my misery and believe me, I've shared it enough already with others), he has felt overlooked by his friends who, being on the A team, do some sort of running club or something.  He was invited once and didn't go because we got off to a slow start (no pun intended) that morning, but he clearly feels that if he were wanted there, he'd have been in on it from the beginning and then he found out that they also play soccer afterward and, again, he wasn't "in on it".  He was an after thought.

Again, play me a violin....

So, that sets the stage.  Probably 99% of all of this angst is in his imagination, but he's been bringing that imagination to life in our family's daily life for a month now.

Last night, though, things began to look up.  Two of his mates spent the night and they never once talked about soccer.  Thank the stars.

It was a total flash back to 2005 or so, when my eldest (hmmm....do I have a blog name for him?  I might, but thanks to chemo brain, I can't remember) and his mates would get together.  It was a mini-me of the current teenagers hanging out here at the same time.

On top of the emotional wanking that has been going on, we've also had lots of late nights and slow mornings for the past month.  I was out of town for about 10 days, and my husband is an early to bed kind of guy, which meant that the kids were very, very late to bed.  Those of you who still have enough control over your children to have bedtime, might be shocked to hear that an 11 year old was regularly going to bed at 2 a.m. or later and sleeping until noon, but that is a pattern we've fallen into.  Add in a visit from the cousins which makes for a week with looser rules than usual, and...chaos regarding sleep hygiene.

So last night, I agreed to these other two boys spending the night in part to keep the hormonal Feral Third happy but also because I saw it as an opportunity to enforce a bedtime without an argument.  Who wants to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum in front of their friends?  The deal was OK to the sleepover if they agreed to lights out and a movie turned low at midnight. 

It worked.  I removed all the video game controllers so that they weren't tempted to cheat, told them if they'd lay still, they'd be cooler, and they were out.

The Third Wave

This also meant then were awake fairly early this morning.  I was reading and came out of my room at 8:45 and found all three of them awake.  Awake and looking like the older boys they so admire.  I have since begun referring to them as The Third Wave.

Sorting Game Pieces

Now, back in the day, in 2005 or so, my eldest and his buddies would have some wild Risk games.  They'd combine games, boards, pieces, and rules and play for entire weekends.  There have also been many Risk games played at our home by many, many young boys in this town.  It is also a tradition to play Risk with the cousins when they come to visit each year.  It was very heart warming to see The Third Wave getting it on with World Domination with such glee.

Of course, you can't have boys in the house (even if they are on the patio) without feeding them.  I was flashing back to the days when I would regularly stock up on cheap frozen pizzas, frozen burritos, jarred spaghetti sauce, and other food items in mass quantities because I never knew when I'd be called upon to provide food for the hungry hoards.

It's been awhile.

So a trip to the grocery was called for. Hoping that this will not be the last time we have a hoard of hungry boys, I stocked up. 


Then I got to do what I love doing the most.  Providing food for people I love. 

And these people were very appreciative!

The day continued without a hitch.  It included a walk to Walgreen's, a game of volley ball and one of badminton.  They then went to one of the other boys' homes for dinner, returned here, were playing something that involved yelling and running in the dark, and at 10 p.m., more than 24 hours after it  started, the "sleep over" ended.

No fuss, no muss (they did have to be persuaded to clean up the family room, but they did a good job), no arguments, and only one injury (and that was in the last 15 minutes).

I know my member of the Third Wave was asleep early and easily tonight, and I hope he is feeling better about his predicament or at least had 24 hours of not stewing over how unfair life can be at times. 

Yes, it can be, son, but it is still a wild and wonderful place and you might as well ride it hard while you can.

And I'm glad there are Risk players back in the house.

An unfamiliar position...

So, here's a sad and unfamiliar situation for me:

Some friends and I have formed a little support group. Some call it "Strong Women" some (OK, me) call it "Crazy Cancer Club."

One of our members is dying.

She is leaving behind a husband and children, young children.

As we do so darn well here in the Midwest USA (or maybe it's a Great Lakes thing), the community is doing its best to tend to the needs of the family. Meals are being brought in. Cleaning is taken care of. Christmas is being tended to. Teachers have been met with.

It's so incredibly sad. Heartbreakingly so.

During Cancer Club meetings, we've talked about some really intimate stuff. It's one time we can laugh about the indignities we've experienced. Some of them can be quite amusing. Some, out right funny--much of that has to do with chemo brain; some, in a warped kind of way--much of that has to do with chemo brain, or did I already say that? It's one time we can talk about how precious it is to be able to poop when you need to. We can laugh about losing hair. We can express frustration about fearing that every twinge is a recurrence. It's one time where "it is what it is" can really be what it is because we all have gone through it or may confront it. Some of us have "curable" cancers. Some might be on chemo off and on for life. But this is the first time one of us has died.

And I just don't know what to do.

My love language, apparently, is food.

Another member of the club and I took dinner to the family last week. And I could not stop making food. I made a frozen meal for some later date. I made two soups. I made Magic Mineral Broth. I could have kept going.

I understand my friend, who isn't seeing people these days, enjoyed the Magic Mineral Broth.

I'm not a close friend. We've shared intimate moments. But we've never otherwise socialized.

I understand my friend is in a lot of pain.

I suppose I fear that I soon will end up similarly.

But meanwhile, I feel very awkward. At a loss for words.

I know this journey, this transition, is one that is very individual and one that we all must undertake.

Yet, I wish I knew what I could do to make this easier for my friend and her family. I feel so helpless.

And so sad.

So very, very sad.

Life in the "Normal" lane

So, I've been absent from here for a while. It's not that I haven't thought about blog posts. In fact, I regularly compose them in my head. It's not that I don't sit down at the computer any more. Those of you on facebook know that's certainly not true.

I don't really know what it is that keeps me from blogging, other than it is harder and harder to sustain the intellectual energy required for longer pieces of discourse. I can snap off facebook updates easily, probably too easily. Certainly, I do that too frequently. However, crafting and sustaining coherent larger pieces of discourse just seems beyond my capabilities lately. In fact, I'm barely able to sustain coherence long enough to get the writing done that I need to do for work.

This is partially due to my cognitive capacity being damaged from chemo, for sure.

But even more so, I think it is due to the fact that there have been so many changes lately, over the past four months or so.

For one thing, I'm back at work, so I have to expend energy in that direction. More on that in another entry. For another, I'm going to bed a lot earlier, with the exception of tonight. For yet another, I've been getting up earlier in the mornings, but I'm not yet capable of figuring out what to do with myself during that time, being newly converted to being awake during the early hours. Furthermore, I'm no longer watching much tv, which is when I used to do quite a bit of writing. I just can't bring myself to watch tv any more. Sort of like those people who eat a favorite food to the point it makes them sick and then can't eat it any more, I no longer can really tolerate watching tv any more. I don't even have much of a desire for any of my favorite shows, to the point I can't even order the dvds from Netflix. I'm also using quite a bit more time exercising, so that detracts from the time I used to be able to devote to my blog. In fact, it's not unusual for me to be physically active for two or more hours a day. For instance, last week, I met a friend and ran in the morning before going to teach, taught from 9:30-2:30, then did a 2 hour bike ride, and went for a pedicure. Sure, it was only 7:00 by the time all of that was finished, but when one is typically heading for bed by 9:30 or 10:00, there just doesn't seem to be enough time to blog.

And I do miss it. I compose entries in my head whilst running and biking. I will admit that I don't while in the midst of the exercise classes I've been taking. Mostly what runs through my head during those is not fit to be printed where it might be read by those with tender sensibilities. Maybe those who have survived basic training in the military could read it, but the rest of you are probably better off without.

But the changes a friend asked me to write about, the new normal, are still becoming apparent.
For one, I no longer enjoy or crave animal flesh. While not by any means a vegetarian, I certainly won't go out of my way for meat and rarely consume it. In fact, last week, I made lasagna for Sunday evening dinner and bought the Morningstar Farms version for myself because the idea of the meat in the lasagna just turned me off at a deep, visceral level.

Second, I'm really enjoying life quite a bit and I'm generally not being bothered by little things that used to bother me. When I am bothered by little things, those kinds of things that really don't matter in the grand scheme of things, I'm much more aware that I'm being bothered by silliness and recognize it for what it is.

Third, I have gotten quite a bit stronger. In March, I could barely sustain 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes. Last week, I ran 4.5 miles without any walking and wasn't tired. I stopped because my feet hurt and because my back hurt. OK, so "ran" is probably a misnomer for what I did. But I can certainly say I was truly "jogging."

And, finally, as of today, I've officially dropped yet another pants (jeans) size. That's about 7 sizes in two years and probably 50 lbs in the past....um....15-18 months.

But really, I have a lot more musing rolling around in my head, and someday, I'm sure I'll sweep them into a corner, sort them out, and turn them into something sharable.

I promise.

But meanwhile, off to bed.

Getting My Girl On, part 3

Today was girlio day with Sophie.

While I can't say my teen years were terrible, I also can't say that I appreciated them for all they were worth. I mean, can any of us? Looking back, though, it does seem that at 13 girls are standing on the edge, ready to spring into life. I dunno, I can't really find a good metaphor. But they are so full of life, energy, hope, dreams....or maybe not quite. Maybe a workable metaphor would be more along the lines of a piece of fruit, on the verge of being ripe...although maybe that's too sensual to use in relation to my sweet niece.

Anyway, she's just entering a wonderfully exciting phase in her life, and it's enjoyable to watch. It's even more enjoyable because, ultimately, I have no responsibility for her success or failure. That burden lies on the shoulders of her parents.

After a decent sleep in this morning, we headed out to an early viewing of Eclipse. Not really my cup of tea, parts of the story make my skin crawl, and I'd be horribly upset if I weren't able to remember that it's really just fiction. Reading Tolkien didn't make me believe in Orcs and rings that lead to addictive behaviors. Reading Nancy Drew didn't make me able to shrug into clothes. So, I'm assuming that Eclipse won't harm Sophie. At least my big boys came home from seeing it appalled at the behavior of the guys. Overall, though, it was a more enjoyable film than the first two in the series. I dread the last, but this was watchable. It was also my favorite book, I think. They all, all but the last which I think is an abomination, blurred together.

After Eclipse, we had a wonderful lunch at Poco Piatti. We started with artichokes and hearts of palm; next, Sophie had calamari and I had Shrimp Saganaki and salad. It was awesome! While we were waiting for our food, I gave Sophie a bracelet to commemorate her coming of age, so to speak. I'm not normally touchy-feely, but this just seemed like an OK thing to do. The food, though, was probably more memorable.

We concluded the day by spending a couple of hours at Plato's Closet. I'd post the picture I took of her that we sent to her mother....Miss S dressed in multi-green satin hot pants, a rather risque top, and 4" heels....but I'd need permission from both her and one of those people mentioned earlier who are, ultimately, responsible for her outcome:) In the end, she made some really wise, yet fun, choices, and I also sprung for some light, mind-candy summer reading. Of course, for my own child, I chose something totally different. But then, I am responsible for his outcome. I am soothing my conscience with the assurance that the wonderful school Sophie attends, her highly literate and well educated parents, and the house full of quality literature that she lives in will serve her well, and will offset the crap I gave her today.

One difference between my boys and Miss S that I noticed today was that I can barely, just barely, get my boys to try clothes on. Only under pain of "I will NOT buy that for you if there is any chance in HELL that we will have to return it...you KNOW I stink at being able to keep track of receipts..." will my young men enter changing rooms. Yet, today, Sophie spent quite a bit of time in the changing room, trying on item after item after item. Meanwhile, during that time, I was snapping pictures of various tee and polo shirts and texting them to my boys for their approval. In the long run, that's so much easier than actually bringing the boys shopping with me.

How did we live without such technology? How would my life be ever so much diminished without my girlio? Good questions to ponder.

Eating Fish

On the suggestion of Pancake Goddess, I made fish tacos. I didn't quite have enough fish (cod), so I added some boneless, skinless chicken breast.

EVERY. SINGLE. MEMBER. OF. MY. FAMILY. ATE. MORE. THAN. ONE.

Yes, that was a yell. At least two members "hate" fish and those same two "hate" anything different, yet they ate it with gusto.

OK, maybe not quite as much gusto as usual. They only ate two and four respectively, but that was enough to not have leftovers:)

Detox Foods

Citrus-Spinach-Pesto Salmon and "side salad" of mixed baby greens, tomato, cranberries, and cauliflower dressed with mushroom vinaigrette.

Garlicky Greens and salmon baked with red onion and lemon. The left over salmon made for great salad topping the next day.

Balsamic Glazed salmon with a mess o' spicy greens.

A "green" smoothie. Where to begin with the ingredients: silken tofu, blue berries, handfuls of greens, yadda yadda yadda. It was OK.

Spring Break! part 1

Probably 7 years or so ago, the Jeffers and the Hubbell-Staebles started camping together. About the same time, Amy and I started the tradition of closing and opening each camping season with a moms only trip. We haven't always gone far. Sometimes no farther than Portage. Most of the time, we end up in Gibsonburg.

Of course, every time we camp alone, it's pretty much guaranteed that it will rain (or snow), but please don't think we are miserable. We take high quality bedding; we've mastered cold and wet; we tend to eat pretty well.

Well, stupid cancer got in the way of a lot of recreation this summer. Between moving and cancer diagnosis, I don't think our families camped. And Amy and I didn't get our trip. So, here we are on "Spring Break" in a motel in Port Clinton.

Truly, we could be anywhere. We have simple needs. Beds. Books. Wifi. Cable tv. Good food. Naps. More naps. Even more naps.

We arrived in our street legal pajamas. Not much has changed. I'm not in street legal pajamas, but I can change:)

And we've napped.

The weather is wonderful, and I think we'll head out here soon for a short walk and then a wonderful dinner. Since we slept through lunch, we can justify spending a little more on supper. In our street legals.

Last night, we ate a Perch and Shrimp dinner with lobster bisque at the Jolly Roger. Yum. Who knows what we'll do tonight.

Big plans for Wednesday night, too:) More on that later.

I think we are the only women in the hotel...it's us and guys working on the Davis-Besse project.

It's frequently like that when we camp, too:) Us and scuba divers and extreme rescue people.

I will miss something about chemo...

...the early days after treatment and having to eat whatever sounds good. I can't not eat it because of the steroid driven appetite. I can't not eat it because if it sounds good, it won't make me feel bad.

I just finished an entire small pineapple and green olive pizza from Pisanello's. Since 1980, that has been my absolute favorite pizza and absolute favorite place to order pizza from. 352-5166.

I have cancelled checks that go back to September of 1980 for this treat.

Since we no longer order pizza as a family (because it's way too expensive), I rarely ate it, until I started chemo crashes.

I'm feeling the urge again.....