I Crack Myself Up

My imaginary shoulder injury has been acting up for the past few weeks, so I went back to the orthopedic surgeon for a re-check. As I expected, he sent me to get an MRI, because I've exceeded my maximum cortisone injections and now we have to see exactly what's going on.

Because I had an MRI a few years ago, I already knew that I couldn't wear anything in the MRI room that had metal in it. That included the zipper of my jeans. But, you know, I only wear jeans. What were they going to make me change into? My fear was that I'd be given some weird gown that flashed my ass, or tacky medical pajama pants that featured an unnaturally large crotch area or something. Yeah, we all have our own private fears.

So, forestall a possible ass disaster, I stuffed my yoga pants into my tote bag as I headed out of the house. I didn't put the yoga pants on because I had an appointment before the MRI and, well, nobody sees me in non-restraining trouser-wear unless I live with them or they are medical staff. I'm hoping that personal loyalty or doctor-patient confidentiality keeps these folks quiet.  Read more »

The other day while waiting at a stoplight, Kathy and I found ourselves staring at the license plate frame of the car in front of us. "Rin and Rob," it declared, "Two hearts One Soul."

"You know what that means," Kathy said. "Somebody sold their soul to the devil!"

I laughed. "I bet it's Rob and Rin didn't even know. Now she's gotta share her soul and it wasn't even her idea. That figures."

Kathy motioned to the license plate itself. "Look, her name is Erin. Why doesn't it say Erin on the frame? Why Rin?"

"Don't you know? Rin and Rob is soooo much cuter. What's the sacrifice of a little E in your name when it means you are going to be just so adorable together?"

"Maybe. But you know what's going to happen when they break up..."

"He's going to take the soul," I said, nodding knowingly. "Rin will be left with a broken heart and no soul, not to mention a first name that's 25% shorter than what she started with."

We rolled our eyes. "Men!"

So I decided to get dressed and spent a quick moment, as I always do, collecting the clothes that I want to wear for the day. I put them in a pile in the bathroom, took off my jim-jams, and got in the shower. As I do.

But when I got out of the shower and started to get dressed, things began to go wrong. I reached for my brand new teal top and accidentally picked up the teal jim-jams I'd only recently removed. Oops, that's not a fashion statement. I dropped those and redirected myself to the other stack of clothes. Grabbing what I thought was my v-neck top off of that, I discovered that I'd put my teal workout pants into the pile by mistake.

How did I make this mistake? Because they are all the exact same shade of teal. EXACTLY!

I went out into the bedroom to find my top and finish getting dressed. Then I stopped and took a good long look around me. You know, at those metallic lagoon walls I painted a little over two years ago.  Read more »

I've written previously about my apathetic relationship with my cell phone - I have one, but unlike many people, I do not live with it glued to my hip. Well, when I'm out and about, it's by my side. But I'm a Radical Homebody, which means I'm not out and about so much, and at home? It seems it is never in the same room as me.

This would not be a problem if people just called my home or business line, but certain people-particularly doctors-always call my cell phone. This makes sense because if they called my home phone, you just know that it would be at the very moment that I left the house for my weekly drive around the block, just to keep my car battery charged. Okay, I am not quite that bad. But missing the call from a doctor is the kiss of death, you are never going to be able to call back and actually reach them. You missed your chance.

So, it seems like several times a week I am running at breakneck speed to find my handbag with my cell phone, before the call goes to voicemail...or walking around with a handful of phones as I move from room to room, making sure I don't miss a call on any one of my three lines. It's crazy. It's mad. How do other people do it?

I can only assume they have something I don't. Pockets.  Read more »

Two days ago, our house phone stopped working: no dial tone, no nothing. That meant that Kathy's DSL was down, too. Predictably, I was expecting a call from a doctor and she had lots of work to do, but we were out of luck.

So, I immediately used another phone to call the AT&T repair line, which, you'll be happy to learn, is automated for my convenience. Those AT&T guys are always thinking of me. Knowing that it would slow me down to actually talk to someone about the problem, they removed the option from their menus. All I could do was schedule someone to come out and fix the line...in four days.

Four days without our main phone is a big problem. Four days without DSL is a crisis. Not to mention, we actually use that phone as an intercom all the time, which meant that we had to get up and walk into another room to talk to each other. Gasp! Well, not really...we figured out our cell phones would work for that. I mean, there's no need to get all crazy-like.

I changed our outgoing message to say something snide about AT&T and tell people how to reach us. But I kept picking up the phone and trying to dial out anyway, because I am as trainable as a lab mouse.

This morning, I went upstairs to make myself some breakfast (appropriately clad in blue-green pajamas with accompanying wild hair) when I saw someone in an orange vest walking uphill in the rain, with some purpose to his step. Oooh, was he coming to our house? Or maybe a neighbor's house?  Read more »

I have been a bit behind on things of late. Like, writing in my blog, cooking food that humans are intended to eat, and...doing laundry.

The last issue led to an absolutely panicked moment this morning (okay, well, perhaps it was a half hour before noon) as I upended the last bits of clean laundry from my laundry basket onto the bed and began desperately sorting through the clothes to find a clean pair of underwear. I had already opened both drawers in the dresser to find them empty, so you can imagine how my heart was pounding as my hands skittered through the pile of clean-but-too-wrinkled-to-wear shirts and pants, finding plenty of socks but no underpants.

I tried not to get dizzy. I mean, omigod, what if I actually had no clean underwear?!? Do you know what this would mean? Even if I stayed at home all day and no one saw me, everyone would know, psychically, that I am the worst human being EVER! WITH NO CLEAN UNDERWEAR!

Frankly, the thought of me, Alix North of the Many Pairs of Underwear, running out-yes me, who bought those many packages in the soul-shriveling trip to the Store That Shall Remain Nameless-is sobering. Just think of how much laundry I must have stacked up. Like, maybe enough so that I can't vacuum the rug in the bedroom because of it!  Read more »

As we sat down at at Starbucks, I reached in my handbag for my notepad and a pen to make a note for my blog. The pen I pulled out was a red felt tip, which I tested carefully on the notepad. It worked, but I had my doubts.

"I think 15 years might be too old for a pen," I mused.

Kathy raised an eyebrow. "You are kidding me, right?"

"Am not. Tell me, when did you last see a Hardhead Flair pen?" I asked pointedly, holding it out so she could take in the tell-tale starburst cap and the half-rubbed off lettering on the side.  Read more »

Dear Kathy,

Phantom of the Paradise. I have so much I want to say, but mostly: I am so, so sorry.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, what is Netflix for, if not to follow-up on stray memories of movies you thought you liked XX years ago? Obviously, what I should have done was watch it alone -- prescreening it, as it were. Then I might have made a more responsible choice. No matter what, I should have known that the memory of a 10 year-old cannot be that reliable.

Anyone else would realize that if your partner has lasted for 33 years without seeing the 1970s rock opera staring Paul Williams and William Finley, she's probably just plain lucky. But sometimes my judgment slips.  Read more »

A few weeks ago, I spent a Saturday morning snuggling with the cats in bed, sipping coffee and reading New Scientist magazine. As you do. I was reading the "cheating death" issue, a fun-loving exploration of the current science around dying and resuscitation. When Kathy interrupted me to ask about our appointments that day, I had to take the opportunity to share what I was reading.

"Did you know that shortly after blood flow stops, a kind of 'death signal' ripples through the body, causing cells to self destruct?" I told her eagerly. "Apparently this is the big obstacle to resuscitation."

"Actually, I did know about that because it happens with injury, too. Remember that football player I told you about, Kevin Everett? They used hypothermia on him to stop his spinal cord from self-destructing."

"Oh, right," I said, continuing to read with fascination.

After a pause, though, I scrunched up my eyes and turned my face away from the open magazine. "Ew. Ew. EW!"  Read more »

Last week, I came across some very old journals where I had written down my dreams. By very old, I mean that I was eighteen when I wrote them. The dreams were pretty interesting, but I can see why I didn't keep up with writing them down. They tended to be so darn complex that it would be like writing a novella. At some point you just have to get on with your day and forget the iridescent aliens who planted that reverse propulsion bomb you had two minutes to diffuse, even if the showgirls had outfits with that fabulous design you really wanted to remember.

One dream of the distinctly not complex variety, though, involved spiders falling on me from the ceiling. As I read the dream account, I remembered dreaming that dream. It was so vivid at the time. Creepy! I put the journals away.

The next day, I gave my father a call to wish him a happy thanksgiving, and we started talking about whatever was up with him. As he was explaining his plans to see my brother, what should happen? A spider dropped down on me from the ceiling! I squealed, slapping at my face like a mad two-year old, trying to get it off of me. The spider fell to the floor and then disappeared under the bed. Don't ask me how, but my father didn't hear my yelps of, "Ack! A spider just fell on me!" and he kept talking.

Okay, that was a strange coincidence. Until the next day.  Read more »

Our hairstylist has a station set up in the back of a nail salon. It's not uncommon for Kathy and I to overhear the conversations from the pedicure chairs while getting our hair colored.

Last visit, a woman with long blond hair was loudly describing a spa trip to a friend, all while the nail professional massaged lotion onto her feet. The lavender body wraps, she insisted, were not to be missed, and she described the experience in detail. She had such a good time that she made reservations to try a new spa next week and this time, Shorty and Hooyay were coming with her.

All I could think was, what? She's not inviting Butt-head or Rocky?

Boy, are they gonna be pissed.

This past week has been a whirlwind of art, music, Doctor Who, and laundry, with a couple of migraines thrown in. While none have added up to a great story (thus my silence) I do have a few snippets to share.

Time Keeps on Slipping, Slipping, Slipping...

The week after a time change (damn daylight savings time) is always confusing for me. I walk around in a fog and everything feels just a little bit...off. It's not that I get any more or less sleep, it's just that things are...slightly wrong. I think it is 11 a.m. and when I glance at the clock, it's 10:05. "Wrong, wrong, wrong," says my lizard brain.

Meanwhile, "bad, bad, bad," says Tilly's tabby brain. That's because suddenly, with no warning, mom starts feeding her an hour late. Just like that! And she even acts casual about it, like this is nothing new.

On top of that, none of Tilly's efforts to fix the problem seem to work. Running at top speed across the room to leap on mom's chest and then rocket away in the other direction doesn't work. Spending an hour meowing non-stop at mom's feet doesn't work. Spending all day looking like the most persecuted cat on the planet doesn't work!

Possibly the worst thing is that mom actually tries to justify her actions with some lame story about how humans, except those in Arizona and parts of Indiana, possess the power to change Time at will. As if. If she's going to lie, you would think she would come up with something better.  Read more »

My head hurts today, so I'm just going to share a few silly moments from my weekend:

She Starts Me Up On Purpose

Kathy and I were out driving this weekend when she told me about a big accident that happened in Southern California. Only, she said, "I think it was on the 5 or the 101 - I'm pretty sure it was the 5."

My eyes were on the road, so I couldn't see her smirk. She was cranking me up on purpose.

You see, here in Northern California, we don't feel compelled to add superfluous articles in front of highway nouns. It's not "the 101"; it's 101! I don't take "the 680 to the 24 to the 80" to get to Berkeley. I take "680 to 24 to 80." Or, if I'm feeling extra fancy, I take Interstate-680!

But in Southern California - or maybe just Los Angeles - they do this weird thing, and I just don't get it. I don't know anyone outside of L.A. who prefaces a freeway-name with "the." It just sounds stupid! The only thing possibly MORE stupid than that is how crazy it makes me to hear it. Kathy sure got a chuckle watching my eyebrows move around while I tried not to react.

She calmed me down by pointing out that the news reports on the accident (at least, the national ones) deleted any stray articles of speech. The world was not spiraling into the Abyss; I could relax.  Read more »

As loyal readers know, I periodically review the searches that lead people to my site. Originally, I started doing this for site-optimization purposes, but lately, it's become more about entertainment value. Yeah, you think you're just looking for answers on line, but there is a small chance that you are also cracking me up.

Here's the best of my latest crop, by category.

Category 1: If only I could respond real-time

Good side telling the truth to patient - Uhhhh, you needed to look for a "good side" in this endeavor? 'Because it's the right thing to do' is not sufficient? I think I've had you for my doctor once upon a time.

No gowns at my gyno office - Holy cow. I suggest you grab your things and sidle out the back door. Run, don't walk.

Do mice turn into rats? - No, but I should warn you that housecats can turn into pumas.

My aunt made me wear girls slacks - Er, were you just compelled to make a confession to Google, or are you looking for camaraderie?

Another name for gaurage sale - Oh, I don't know. Maybe...GARAGE sale?

Importance of thinking - It pains me that people are searching for an answer.

Nutritional value deepfried packaged noodles - You mean, the answer "absolutely none" wasn't implied by the question?  Read more »

Yesterday I had to venture into the dusty Archives, the ones stowed away in the land of Deepest Darkest Garage. I was on a mission to find a greeting card that I remembered someone giving me in 1985, one that I will need for an upcoming blog entry.

Getting to it was no small feat. I had to push aside not only cobwebbed boxes but also yank out pale morning glory vines that were again twining their way through the dim light. (That's right; by the hammer of Thor, the vines are back.) I stomped and stretched to get to the box. A cricket skittered under a tool chest, startling me momentarily. But at last, I reached my goal: the box containing the 1972-1989 archives.  Read more »

A year and a day ago I wrote, "Cancer Made Me a Cold-Blooded Killer," exploring my most bizarre chemo side effect: losing my life-long bug phobia and becoming a shrewd-eyed bug killer. Overnight. Probably not a chemo side effect, sure, but that's the only thing I could attribute it to, given my sudden transformation from holding my skirt up while I shrieked from atop a chair to pummeling a wasp to death with a light-weight fly swatter.  Read more »

The other day we had a problem with our cable reception, with various channels coming in scrambled. I immediately called Comcast to try to sort it out. Kathy had already tested one TV upstairs and I had tested the TV in the studio, so I reported that we had the same problem in both locations. The call center guy, however, needed me to check the TV in the living room, too. So, with him still on the phone, I trotted upstairs and turned the other TV on, flipping to the scrambled channels.

While we waited to see the results, he made small talk. Kathy, who was in the living room doing something else, overheard only my end of the conversation:  Read more »

Kathy's company likes to give out corporate swag after big meetings. You know, weird toys, plaques, t-shirts, and electronic devices with the company logo on 'em.

Yesterday, she said she just received one that I absolutely had to see - not for the item itself, but the instructions inside. She came home with a hard mousepad that lit up around the edges when you plugged it into a USB port. The instructions, no doubt translated into English with the aid of a dictionary or computer program, were priceless (and all spelling is correct):

   Read more »

I have angered the Martini Gods. I am not sure how; perhaps it is blasphemy to reveal the secrets of the Vermouth Mister to the uninitiated. If so, I swear on the sacred altar bar of Ketel One, I did not know.

The gods used cunning to reveal their wrath and so I must tell you the story.  Read more »

Note: When I wrote this post three days ago, I planned to put it online Thursday. However, I ended up posting Hairstyling: A Cautionary Tale, instead, to perk up a friend who needed it. As luck would have it, another esteemed blogger posted something on the same topic as this on Friday, tempting me to delete my own piece. Kathy convinced me otherwise, so here it is.

On a regular basis, while checking my website analytics, I review the searches people do to lead them to my site. It's a good way for me to see what people are looking for, how search engines are indexing my material, and get ideas for new content. It's also, as it turns out, a great way to get a good chuckle or two as I read the crazy ways people end up on my site. Although, crazy is definitely in the eyes of the beholder.  Read more »

A few weeks ago, after having my hair dyed a very normal brown-red (no blue or magenta for a while) I explained to a friend that it would look much better, only I can't style it to save my life. As you know, short hair is not my thing. My stylist had to spend some time showing me what to do to make it look like something intentional. She managed to make it look pretty and I had hope.

But back at home, all the product and scrunching in the world couldn't make my hair look like Halle Berry's. I don't know where I went wrong, but no matter what I did, it just sort of...flopped.  Read more »

Spending too much time in movie theaters watching previews has led me to wonder: What if our lives (or portions of our lives) were rated like movies?  Read more »

Our friends Sue and Jois invited us to participate in their annual community garage sale this year. Eager to de-clutter our garage (and having no desire to host my own garage sale) I said we'd be happy to bring our stuff over and join in. After all, it seemed like a great way to kick-start my return to the Great Garage Project.  Read more »

When my brother's oldest daughter was just two years old, I caught her standing in front of a mirror, looking herself up and down. She turned her head from side to side, pursed her lips, and finally sighed.

"This doesn't go," she said, seemingly confused about how those shoes got on her feet with that outfit. I mean, anyone could see that it was a total mistake! I half-expected her to stare at her parents while shaking her head in a slow, disappointed rhythm.  Read more »

This past weekend, our friend Kelly Kilmer was up from Southern California, teaching art classes in San Anselmo. She was kind enough to accept our dinner invitation on Saturday, as well as meet us for breakfast and shopping on Monday. Being the good attentive blogger that she is, of course she provides an account of our adventures online, where she says she has never eaten with anyone (with one exception) who treats food with such high regard.  Read more »

My dream world is very rich; I tend to have long, complicated dreams that, if I take the time to write them down, fill pages. Thank goodness I don't always remember the entire dreams or I'd spend my mornings distracted by the plots. As it is, I usually remember just portions, knowing that they are part of a much larger whole.

The other day, I awakened from one of those lengthy, twisty dreams to remember one distinctive highlight: I married Johnny Depp.  Read more »

I have officially become a hypochondriac.

Yesterday, while heading home after the movies and a couple of errands, I was going to swing into Trader Joe's to get some dinner fixings. Only, I had a pain in that little divot behind my earlobe that was really distracted me. It had started an hour earlier when I was at Target and it just kept hurting more and more. It felt strange and it made me think too much about blood flow. Could that be a major artery or something? What on earth could go wrong there? It's behind my earlobe, for goodness' sake!  Read more »

The San Francisco Bay Area, like many U.S. metropolitan areas, offers traffic information for travelers via telephone, using voice recognition technology. It's pretty cool stuff: you call 511, tell it what kind of information you want and for what area, and the voice tells you what kind of traffic conditions to expect.

The trouble is, due no doubt to funky phone connections, the speaker's ability to articulate, and the phase of the moon, the traffic guy - whom I've named Kevin - doesn't always understand what you're saying. Sometimes the misunderstanding is understandable and predictable. When Kathy lived in Pinole, this would be her conversation:

Kevin: "Say your ending point."  Read more »

These two precious little girls graduated high school yesterday:

 Read more »

Today I stopped by a clothing store to try to find an outfit to wear to a graduation event. Actually, a dressy blouse would do - something classic and understated. Unfortunately, though, it is not classic and understated season. It is Summer, when bright colors, short sleeves, and wrinkled faux linen abound. I could shop all I wanted; there was nothing suitable.  Read more »

Cranky at my lack of success, I decided to see if I could find a new bra, since I was already there. When you've been rotating through four bras as you wear them around the clock for 54 days in a row (AND YES, I'm keeping track) you tend to discover all the deficiencies of your bra wardrobe.

The world of sports is a mystery to me, one that I do not in any way try to solve. I neither understand sports nor am I drawn to watching them. Kathy, however, likes to watch games. Baseball is her favorite, but she also watches football and basketball (and perhaps some others) all while seemingly knowing what is going on.

Though she is very considerate about not commandeering the TV for a game (if there is something I want to watch) I think it is only fair that she have adequate big TV time, so I try to encourage her to watch games in the living room. It's no big deal for me because I am trained at how to live with a sports fan.  Read more »

Lately, I've been feeling terribly sad that I've made it this far in life without learning to swordfight. I started "signing up for" fencing classes as early as my teenage years, but my commitment (more like my state of physical fitness!) has never taken me beyond a few sessions. On Monday, I resolved that I must address this ASAP, because what if I died without knowing how to swordfight? My god, what could be sadder than that?

It's pretty gosh-darn convenient that I would decide this at a time when my sword arm is definitely out of service. Months of shoulder pain have brought me to a point where it is hard to unfasten my seat belt, much less draw a sword from my side in a sweeping flourish! I know, I know, learn to do it with your left arm, not your right, but I'm not trying to be the Dread Pirate Roberts. So, yesterday I brought my sword arm to my orthopaedic surgeon to have him take a look-see.  Read more »

Last Sunday, Kathy and I went out to lunch at a diner-style restaurant. She ordered soup which came with the requisite packet of Saltines. She didn't eat them. Before the waiter came to take her empty soup bowl away, I snaked out my hand to grab the crackers and tuck them into my handbag. "In case I get hungry at the movie," I explained.  Read more »

And there it is: I've become my mother, gathering up uneaten food at the table to take home.

Given my ease with all things high-tech, it might be surprising to learn that I can be strongly resistant to advances in household technology designed to save time in daily life.

This first became evident back in the dark ages when speed dial came out. Initially, I resisted it because it was a phone service feature that you had to pay for and I was cheap. But later, when it became integrated into the physical phones, I resisted it for another reason. I was sure that if all I had to do was press a single button to call friends and family, I would forget all of their phone numbers.  Read more »

You know what would happen next.

When it comes to synchronistic events in my life, sometimes I can be really slow on the uptake. For example, remember when I found $300 lying in the street, maybe a week after talking about how I wanted to fund a personal project with found money? Kathy actually had to point out the obvious connection between the conversation we had and me finding the money, because I was so distracted thinking things like, "I bet whoever lost this is very sad, oh no! Could this be counterfeit? Is it drug money? Will I get arrested if I take this to the bank?" Uh, hello!

But this latest one is a blue-ribbon winner in the category of "slow on the uptake." You'll have to bear with me so I can explain.  Read more »

The other day, I was talking to a friend from the kitchen while she was in another room. I called out to her, "You know, I really have to do something about my laziness!"

There was a bit of a pause and then she called back, "In what way?"

"I'm just not getting enough done," I answered. "You know, my task list is a mile long, and..."

"OH!" she said, walking into the kitchen to join me. "You have to do something about your laziness. I thought you said labia."  Read more »

I was drinking coffee in bed this morning, watching the angle of light that seemed unfamiliar for the hour (thank you, daylight savings time, for confusing the heck out of my brain) when I took a moment to glance at my chest of drawers. For the first time, I noticed that I reserve my largest dresser drawer for...jim-jams.

Oh, my. What does that say about me?  I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to use the biggest drawer for pajamas.  Read more »

Lately, I've been thinking about the things that we surround ourselves with in life. Almost everyone has certain things that they have an abundance of, and the type of things vary from person to person. Typically, the nature of our things illustrate our values, show what we love and sometimes, broadcast our beliefs about what we think we need to make things better.  Read more »

I stopped by a beauty supply store yesterday to get some special shampoo. My hair wanted to go brassy after the bleaching and so I need a violet shampoo to keep it toned down. (Yesterday my stylist said, "Use it only every few days or your hair might start turning lavender." I responded, "And that would be a problem...how? Maybe I should use it twice a day!")

I had never been to this shop before. As I parked, I saw that they had cool wigs in the window, including a bright red one. I don't have a red wig. I pointed at the red long bob, looked at Kathy, and said, "oooooh!"  Read more »

Last night, over dinner, Kathy and I were watching TV. A preview for the return of Lost was going to air that hour, so we were actually paying attention to the commercials instead of whizzing past them, as I like to do. A commercial started that showed an overhead view of a small deserted island that was covered with tropical jungle. We paid attention, when bursting out of the jungle was...the Kool-Aid pitcher guy.

Kathy turned to me and said, "Maybe Mr. Eko was killed by the Kool-Aid Monster!"  Read more »

As I expected, my doctor decided today that I must have a bacterial antagonist living inside me because I shouldn't be running fevers this long after having the flu. She prescribed an antibiotic; we'll see how that goes. In other news...

As seen on the drive home...

I drove behind a postal police car all the way across the Bay Bridge. I've never seen a postal police car! It had a rack of lights on top and looked very official, in that "armed officers will hunt you down and make your life scary" kind of way.  Read more »

Yesterday, I had a dental appointment to have a crown put on. I know that I promised to rest for a week to help myself get over the bronchitis/asthmatic thing, but I reasoned that it was a quick appointment that I had already postponed twice already, so it was best to get it over with. Because it would be so fast (maybe 30 minutes) I decided to forego lydocaine and do it without any numbing. I thought it would make it easier to have lunch with a friend immediately afterward if I wasn't doing embarrassing things like biting my cheek repeatedly or drooling.  Read more »

Angela Kinsey, who plays Angela Martin on the US version of The Office, was on Conan O'Brien just last night. Because I like this actress and read Angela's blog, I made sure to watch it. As it turned out, she was hysterically funny. Angela is from North Texas and she had some great stories to share about her first time in New York City (as an intern on the Conan O'Brien show, ironically enough) and her early jobs.  Read more »

This was the perfect day for my electric blue hair. I love the color of that wig. The wig itself is not high quality. If you compare the fibers to those on, say, my "Aqua Purple wig ," there is no contest; Aqua Purple has more fluidity, silkiness, and strength. With the electric blue wig, you don't want to comb it too much (read: at all) if you can help it.  Read more »

Today the lead therapist looked at my breast as I was being positioned for radiation. She asked me, "What are you taking for that?"

Confused, I said, "Uh...nothing?" I mean, obviously my skin stings, but for some reason I never thought of actually taking anything for it.

"That's gotta hurt," she said sympathetically. "Try ibuprofen to bring down the swelling. If you normally take 4, take 6."

I'm pretty sure she meant that if I take 400 mg normally, take 600, but I really want to go in tomorrow and tell her I'm feeling great, especially after taking six Advil! Ha!

* * * * *  Read more »

The radiation center has certain guidelines that patients need to follow during treatment, such as not wearing antiperspirants that contain aluminum salts and not wearing underwire bras. To conform, I am wearing Tom's of Maine deodorant and the micro-fiber leisure bra that I got for recovery from surgery.  Read more »

Kathy and I ran errands today and I was driving the car. On the way back, while starting to turn onto a street, my head jerked to one side and I said, "Hey, that's money! Looks like a large bill!"

I pulled over (this was on a residential street) and asked Kathy if she could hop out to see. She said, "It's probably play money," but she humored me anyway.

The bills were blowing down the street, toward open space, when she grabbed them. She got back into the car and showed me: three bills totalling THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Oh my!  Read more »

I crack myself up. Today I stepped out of the shower, dried off, then wrapped the towel around my head.

Um...Alix? Did you forget you have no hair?!?

The day isn't going as I had planned. I am just so very tired, not to mention nauseated. I get worn out just slouching on the couch. I know I'm anemic, but I don't think I'm that anemic. This cycle all the side effects have started early, with thrush and diarrhea starting the day after the infusion. I had to cancel my appointments today as I knew I couldn't drive. However, I do need to manage to get to the post office today, no matter how I feel.  Read more »

I learned a valuable Life Lesson today, one which you may already know. But just in case you DON'T know, I'm going to share it here. It's that important.

Never, under any circumstances, put Junior Mints in your purse.

The scenario: An afternoon movie matinee at a theater that doesn't carry Junior Mints.

The crime: A swing by Walgreens to purchase contraband Junior mints on the way to the theater.

The error in judgment: Discreetly reaching into the purse in a darkened movie theater to open one end of the box, slip out some mints, then close the box again. LIKE IT EVER STAYS CLOSED!

Dun-dun-DUN!  Read more »

Today I received three bras via mail order, all without underwire. They are in different sizes because when you are super busty, you find out that the cup sizes are not consistent across brands. I don't have a good history with bras that don't have underwire. It's not that I like metal shoved up under my breasts, it's just that bras tend to fit me badly without it.

With some trepiditation, I struggled into the first bra. It both flattened and thrust out my breasts in an alarming way, making them look like flying saucers. This reminded me all too much of a bra I tried on 20 years ago, in an experience memorable enough to remain burned into my brain.  Read more »