What the Future Holds

Mom had her last official round of chemo today. This consisted of a four hour infusion of one therapy and the wearing/dispersing of the second cocktail over the following 44 hours. She looks forward to a speedy recovery from all the side affects of the treatment. It should be somewhere between 3-6 months. Her doctor thinks she might recover faster, because of her attitude and enthusiasm for recovery. Mom has been able to maintain a modified and minimized version of her ‘work-out’ schedule. This is key in pushing the goods through her system and healing all her parts. Mom discovered the major importance of a strong support network, positive attitude, and protein increase over her cancer journey. The port the doctor installed will remain for two years. This is just in case further therapies are needed. But, we all know she has kicked it but good, right?!?!

She is dying to have a beer and a taco or a glass of wine. Soon, very soon!

I cannot thank enough all the wonderful people who have come to the house to visit. It has been such a relief knowing someone and some days several someones are watching over Mom.

I am also eternally grateful for the love and support I have received from my friends and family, who over the years may or may not have known Mom. There were times that seemed dark and I had you to make the time less stressful. I kept the texts, emails, notes; everything for those days I needed a boost of my own. I know when my day comes for facing the battle; I can count on you to light my way.

Thank you and more love than you can imagine.

Casper

My Little Man

Paul and I believed Casper got in line twice for good looks, three times for 9 lives and skipped the smarts department. He got into more trouble and always broke the tape to the winner’s circle with a few scratches and bumps, but he came out. This time it took him to the other side of the sun. Daisy and Mina found him first, when Paul realized what and who they discovered, his heart fell to the ground and broke. I fell to the floor, shattered and inconsolable. He was 15, maybe? Too young.

He was a flirt. He would stare deeply into my eyes with his squishy face and give a wink of his right eye. I would be too distracted by his charm and extreme good looks to notice he was after the steamed milk sitting atop my coffee all along. He looked left. He looked right. Without moving a muscle… his prickly, pink tongue would slide into my mug and steal the froth!

Although it was never proven with DNA testing or photographic evidence, I remain firm in my belief Casper single-pawdedly took down the mighty and elusive Hillshire Farms Kielbasa and delivered this kill to our back door. He was a mighty hunter. A mighty, lazy hunter, maybe.

Every summer he would get his summer hair-do. To accomplish this new wig every year, Casper would endure a humiliating shave of almost his entire body. He looked like a pristine, ivory mini-lion. OK, he looked more like an angry Persian in Uggs. He was lanolin soft and so cuddly. If he was in need of his summer cut closer to the cooler months, he camped on an electric heating pad. He was very royal, a feline Little Lord Fauntleroy. Incidentally, we were asked by several PetsMarts to never return with that demon ball of spit, hellfire and claws of fury.

He loved to cuddle. He was my cuddlebug. Gawd forbid, anyone disturb him when he was doing so. He started a growl, which progressed into making muffins in some catatonic state. Muffin. Muffin. Muffin. Got to make muffin. Muffin. Muffin. Muffin. It could go on for hours and days, if he wanted. This was least adorable in the middle of sleeping. He would eventually settle and curl on my pillow on my head.

Such a talker, too. “Meh. Meh. Meh.” or “Mur. Mur. Mur.” He would go on benders in the cemetery for days. He would return to regale us with his adventures. He would return sometimes reeking of dog food and cheap perfume.

So put me on a highway…
And show me a sign…
And take it to the limit one
more time.

Rest well, my little man.

LA Adventure

LA Adventure

I took a 3-day mini-break to LA a couple weekends ago. Why I ever came back, I do not know. It was a blast. There were some kooky moments, but they make it all worth the while. I miss my LA: the clubs, the nights, the shops, speeding through the canyon, and My PEOPLE! I trekked out to see G&R, Little GV and Heather. The time went too fast.

The first day was a long one with a ridiculous start time: five am. After all, Suzanne, Todd and I had been up until sometime after one, tossing back a few ourselves. What a great night and way to start my weekend! Great friends seeing me off in style… Off to LA I went…

I love the smell at Burbank Airport: gardenias. Never mind the jet fuel from crossing the tarmac. Got my rental loaded with GPS, because that is how the powers that be intended for all of us to drive. My rental was a Pontiac Vibe. This thing had more blind spots than Ray Charles. It was a freakin’ deathtrap. I dislocated several vertebrae checking my blind spots of which there were 37. Off to Venice!

Heather and I grabbed a quick lunch and crammed as much of our latest trials and tribs in the too, too short time we had. Both nursing coronary wounds, work drama, health trauma, etc. Not enough time! I was back on the road to WeHo to check my old stomps: Jet Rag: My fave vintage clothing shop turned very disappointing after all these years it devolved into a smelly Goodwill, not good at all; HOB: still jumping and full of life; Hustler: full of porn and sin-sational naughties, why else would you go there? Time to race the canyon! Yeah, that Vibe really opens up. Pshuh.

Returning to Burbank for the night with Fam Laramore. We set forth to the back 40 to watch GV jump-jump-jump on his “Trampalampaleen”. Little Man took a shine to me right off. Now, that does not coincide with how nature actually works. Kids generally hide, cry and run away from me. I am not affected by it, as a matter of fact it is better for all those involved that I do not have any actual contact with children. I’m better with animals, they speak my tongue. And so… Beautiful Renee began mixing cocktails and cooking a storm of pasta and goodies. Yum! At some point Gary announced he had a lead on a BB gun. What the hell for? Bear in mind I had partaken in Master Mixer Renee’s imbibes and was probably more compliant than I would have been if I had not been bending my elbow: I got in the car with G to get said gun. Eventually, my good senses took over and the mouth came out… That must have been around the time Gary realized I regained the feeling in my feet. Thank you, Renee!

Here’s the first of those kooky moments… Witnessing the purchase of a firearm from a paranoid, right-wing, Obama-bashing, conspiracy theorist on some dark street, so my Gary could "deal with a squirrel" that had been menacing him ala Caddy Shack style, picture Gary as Carl Spackler. At some point I actually interrupted the rantings of the gun-toting lunatic with my freaky-deaky, animal-loving, tree-hugging, bleeding-heart, atheist liberalism and touted I had no use for humans of their kind and could not support the execution of a squirrel on the merits that it chewed on some lawn furniture and pooped on a weight bench. I wish I could have accented it with a driving away in my electric car, but I was the passenger in a non-electric/hybrid and could not. Gary, I love you, but your red neck is just too much! Oh crap, that’s one of your most endearing things. You have the most amazing capability to make me laugh until I pee or milk comes out my nose.

A long day drawn to a close, we headed for slumber.

A bright, new day began when Renee’s Pop magically appeared with a box of Krispy Kritters. Shortly thereafter the coffee aromas wafted from the kitchen. The day was in the “on” position. At some point in there, prior to me getting some kaffe and nut-o-dough, Little GV came running to me and climbed on me to greet me with the ever-popular morning chant: “I’m wet!” Oh, Gawd. I replied, “You are gonna wanna talk to your mom about that.” And off he went. Wow! That was easy. The kid likes me and he listens? Oh, the trouble I am going to cause with that info.

We had a beautiful, quiet, relaxed SoCal day. Clear skies all around, I miss those days. Renee and I headed into Glendale to shop for a bit and grab pizza for the boys. Gary was off to Canyon Country for a magic gig. I had the ambitious plan to follow him out, hang with more LA peeps and blow back to Venice for the night of debauchery with Heather. Yeah, I never made it to the canyon. I headed to the water.

Along the way, the GPS died. Ah, crap! I think I stroked her out. The previous day she said: Turn right. I went left, because I spied a Starbucks (I know crap-evil in a cup, but I had to pee like a race horse and bought tea as not to feel like a complete tool for using the facility and running.) Miss GPS replied to my left turn with "Re-configuring! Re-configuring! You stupid cow! Don't you know where we are?!?! You'll get us rolled in this hood!! You've Killed Us All!! Damn you!!!!" I so want to get one of these! I am a total gadget whore. Back to the night at hand…

Lucky for me, I was not to far from Beechwood when Miss GPS keeled. Heather guided me the remainder of the way. What a leader! Heather greeted me at the door and we headed to the table where her friends were waiting. This is where we walk into…

Another one of those aforementioned kooky moments… On the patio were Heather’s friends toe-to-toe with a drunken, Papa Smurf t-shirt wearing, scrawny-assed dill-hole, who thought it best to start a fight with a girl at the bar. Seriously? A guy picks a fight with a girl? Oh, yeah... This “girl” was with us and she would have flattened Papa Smurf's scrawny ass. And then her larger friend would have handed that flat ass to him in bite-size pieces. It was a sight to behold. Finally, the twerp backed down and withdrew into the crowd. As we packed to leave, these 3 Brute Squad members jumped in to compliment the tough girls for not taking any crap from the guy. They also informed us they would have had him on the ground before he could have recoiled his girly arm. We packed and left for a darker, quieter bar, where patrons refrained from “choking out” fellow patrons. Nice.

After several hours of Venice style whooping, Heather and I headed back to the warehouse for some Showroom Sleeping; after all there are skylights and windows galore that would let the sun shine into our weary eyes in a few hours. There is something to be said that we slept in Pam Anderson’s former bed. What is to be said? I don’t know. I am sure it is tawdry.

I was awake and puttering about the vintage pieces and antique skat and birdhouses shortly after the sun burned from the ceiling, after sleeping only a few hours. There is a haunting quiet and she shifts through the warehouse, lurking in corners, dangling from chandeliers and skulking on tops of bureaus. He space and clutter were truly beautiful and the silence, She was deafening. In my humble opinion, Heather is the strongest chica I know. She lives among the ghosts and prevails. The ghosts run not rampant within the walls and furniture; they dance, sing and scream in our heads. In the Quiet, Heather writes her stories and spins her tales. She, the Quiet, is a blessing and a curse. Heather is the storm; she rustles the leaves and shakes your windows in the indigo. I love my Heather Girl.

Heather and I got our gumption together and went into Santa Monica for a fantastic cup of kaffe at Café Luxxe and some tasty morsels of badness. We hit the shops. We regaled each other with all the things we had missed the day before. We made plans. We made promises we will most certainly keep, to each other and ourselves.

After what seemed to be a very short time, I was back on the 5 headed to Burbank and my plane home. I had one more stop to make: the Laramore Lodge for more goodbyes. I love these magical and gorgeous Laramores, even the new, little one. Little GV, the original “Appletainer”, has grabbed a hold of my heart. Triple threat Renee is the voice you hear when sun shines a brand new day, full of opportunity and hope. Gary is the devil old your shoulder who eggs you into trouble and is carted off to the pokey with you saying, “What a great night!” I love them all.

I ask why I came back to AZ... Because that LA shite is more fun! I miss all of you and look forward to our next adventures.

The Voice from the Doll House

Yes, I am fun. I am oodles of fun. My biggest, most epic heart break even told me I am crush worthy. He also said I was a powerful combination. I like things boys like: to swear, to burp, to perfect the perfect sound effect, make an arse of myself, get dirty, and fall down; all the while loving anything to do with science fiction, car chases, gun fights, explosions, ninjas, pirates, robots, kick-ass stunts and I can give the thumbs up/down to hot/or not chics. I like things girls normally don't like and many women find me as a threat. How preposterous could they be? Married men and spoken for guys think I'm cool. I remind them of their... Their what? Youth? Lost years? I don't know. Young, mid-land to old, boys think I am just swell for a spell.

Well, guess what spoken for ladies? Just because I can quote Star Wars doesn't make me a threat to you and your man, it makes me a dork. Boys love dorks, they don't want to run away with them or marry them. So, you are safe. For girls like me and sisters, you know who you are... It makes for a lot of cold, lonely nights watching reruns of Firefly and MASH alone, while you are in bed with the man, who adores you with every ember of his being. One day there may be a man who will be that to me, but that man ain't your man. The idea of taking another woman's man ranks up there with eating a live cockroach. Or a dead cockroach. Not gonna do it.

Yet, it doesn't stop the reality that single boys only take me out from behind the glass and off my shelf to play with me for a while. When they are done I get tossed aside, left at the lake or thrown from the window at 95 mph. Every time one of these or some other ridiculous thing happens, I pick myself up, collect all my broken bits and bobs, and heal myself on my shelf, safe behind my glass for the next one... And I let them.

Take it from the doll left on the shelf...

• Lick your wounds in a classy, sassy hotel.
• Drink hot tea with real honey in your room, no matter how much the cute check-in guy tries to sell you the bar and drink specials, tells you he knows how you feel and he gets off shift at... to your sad, bloodshot eyes. Walk away. Order room service.
• Do NOT drown your sorrows in a crappy movie made for Sci-Fi movie starring Lou Diamond Phillips. Come to think of it... Don't watch Lifetime either.
• Never, never, never let them see your tears.
• Stay in your room surrounded by big, cozy pillows, covered in a fluffy comforter.
• Take the Aveda the staff so kindly left for you.
• When an old friend offers to make you a cup of coffee or a quiche: say, "Yes." Even if He broke your heart or you broke His a lifetime ago, in a galaxy far away... Go, because He, as any good friend, will listen and always be on your side. If the old friend is a she, She will have your six, a glass of your fave Shiraz or the best broken heart cure: Mac'n Cheese ready with a box of the good tissues when you hit the front stoop.
• Most important to always remember: Do not hate those single, toy-loving boys for being human. People are people, feelings are feelings; no one can stop another from being who they or what they feel. OK, the only time you get to hate him is if he backed over your cat or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

And in the morning, when the hurt has lessened and the day is new... Drop the top, put the hammer down and hit the highway like a battering ram. Do it all over again.

I know the signs. I see them, but I still walk into the fire. I cannot feel the heat without the chance of being singed. I have one life to live and I will live it by my rules. I will drain this life of its juices and have as much fun one can possibly muster!

I Run for Life

Members of Holaway Elementary School participated in a 5K today to benefit breast cancer.

Christina, Lindsay, Ingrid, Stacey, Mary Lou and Marcia enjoyed some of these sights along the way...

Weekend Away

Several friends and I descended upon the magical, far away land of Portland, OR for the Seventh Annual Vampire Masquerade Ball. I will start with I love my friends dearly and could not have made it without them. Thank you for the Vitamin H2O and the Cheez-its. I probably would have landed in the ER without the electrolytes and nourishment. Thank you for picking up the tabs on the imbibes and eats, even if both tried to kill me. (I should also add, I am still alive, but on a daily dose of pain killers and I am pretty sure the internal bleeding has stopped, but the daily pain is stating to bore me.) Yeah, it was one of those weekends. I'm going to leave the drama of smarting a toe and ankle, eating 1.5 sick cheese blintzes. Alas, it was the tasty salad that took my lunch money. What was I thinking?!?! I will also check the personnel drama at the door as not to offend anyone.

In the beginning, I thought the ball was a pile of suckage, because I felt like hell on toast my attitude was complete crap. I was corrected by my peeps: the ball itself was actually pretty lame this year. The music was pleh, the emcee made me want to impale myself, the stage performers were more high drama than network television. Alas, the attendees were stunning! Damnear everyone was incredibly dressed, especially those at our table. Our group was spectacular!!

It was wonderful to see Larry, Deb and Leslie again. I'm totally bummed it was only for a few, short hours. We have agreed to do Portland in style next year, sans the VMB.
After all was said and done and I was sitting in my tiny, airline seat on the return flight, when I was accidentally punched in the head by a flying waitress and given no apology for it. Keep one eye open when flying these days, you never know when napping will turn into a case of fisticuffs.

Inventory

I was inspired to write this list by some silly Facebook thing. So, I took inventory of myself and this is what I re-learned about myself...

1. I started taking dance classes when I was 4: tap, ballet, acrobatics, jazz, modern and some others.
2. I learned how to crochet in the 4th grade and recently started again with a vengeance. Anybody want a scarf for their birthday?
3. I learned how to knit 4 years ago and promptly forgot.
4. I have owned only 2 cars: a 1978 Chevy Caprice Classic in border patrol green and my love, my 1997 Saturn SL2 in white.
5. My dessert of choice is NY cheesecake. Sans fruit.
6. I’ve seen Cher in concert at least 9 times, the Farewell tour something like 5 times. I just couldn’t say, “Goodbye”.
7. I love vampire movies. No matter how cheesy. I saw Blood Rayne (mostly because of Billy Zane), it sucked. But, I refuse to have anything to do with Twilight, it makes me ill.
8. I do not care one iota for or about Harry Potter. I’ve seen all the movies and cannot tell them apart.
9. I will always believe the original Star Wars trilogy is the best!
10. I think pasta can cure anything.
11. I was the second person from my high school to graduate with an award for taking Phys Ed all 4 years. I danced partly to avoid those horrible physical fitness tests! I still can’t do a pull-up to save my life.
12. The first Sidney Sheldon novel I read was “If Tomorrow Comes” over 6th grade spring break.
13. The first Nancy Drew book: “The Haunted Bridge”. I was unimpressed with Miss Drew and promptly quit; much my mother's dismay. She loved Nancy Drew books, so should her daughter. Boring.
14. I read over and over again “If I Should Die Before I Wake” by Lurlene Mc Daniel. It was about the short relationship between a cancer patient and a volunteer. I cried every time.
15. I LOVE roller coasters, Cedar Point rocks!
16. I love and collect sassy sticky notes and socks.
17. I will NOT buy or use any body or home products tested on animals or harmful to the environment.
18. I think the best thing to happen in fashion was the incorporation of spandex and denim.
19. I think all women’s underwear should be matching-matching aka the balcony needs to match the orchestra.
20. I regularly put myself between wildlife and uncertain peril. I have stopped traffic for Gila monsters, a dazed squirrel (that let me pick it up and carry it to safety in the desert!), ducks on Baseline (mama and her 6 little quackers crossing 7 lanes. Rescuing animals is in my blood, thank you Daddy!
21. I have 2 HUGE pet peeves (the kinds that make my eyeballs wobble): the use of the nonexistent word “irregardless” and the misquotation of “…the love of money is the root of all evil…” as “money is the root of all evil”. Makes me batty! That is the only quote I know from the Bible and I’ll keep it that way, thanks. Yeah, even Pink Floyd irritates me with that one.
22. I love music. I have more in my head than should be permitted, much of it crap, too. Ex: I still know the lyrics to Young MC’s “Bust a Move”. Embarrassing, I know. Last year, I was in a Blockbuster with Paul when it came on the PA and I started rappin’ it; I thought he was going to die from shock.

“New movie's showin’... so you're goin’
Could care less about the five
you're blowin’
Theatre gets dark just to start the show
When you spot a
fine woman sittin’ in the front row
She's dressed in yellow, she says
"Hello,
Come sit next to me you fine fellow"
You run over there without
a second to loose
And what comes next, hey bust a move”

23. I think two of the best songs ever written were Don McLean’s “The Day the Music Died” and The Eagles' "Hotel California".
24. I love Dr. Pepper. Cold, warm, fizzy, flat; it does not matter. Just keep it neat, aka hold the ice.
25. My best friend from grade school and Jr. High and I made the most hilarious and embarrassing video in high school of us dancing and lip syncing to much of the Saturday Night Fever and Grease 2 soundtracks. Sadly, the tape was lost years ago, but we are still friends!
26. I still love to play dress-up. Wigs and all! I don’t wait for Halloween.
27. I fell off my treadmill twice. I loved that machine, too.
28. When training to run the Nike Women’s Marathon and fundraising for LLS, I thought it would great motivation and what ever to run to Pink Floyd’s “Money”. Yeah, NEVER do that on a treadmill. You’ll kill yourself. It must be the love of money misquote not the 7/4 tempo.
29. I still don’t understand what “New Moon on Monday” by Duran Duran is about. “Shake up the picture the lizard mixture”? What the crap does that mean! Ouch. My brain hurts.
30. My favorite fairy tale as a kid was “The Little Mermaid” by Hans Christian Anderson. You know the one where the Little Mermaid takes her own life, instead that of her prince, in order to return to the sea? Not that Disney debauchery with the yodeling sea-roach. I also had a love for Edgar Allan Poe and the Brothers Grimm. I never wanted anything to do with the always happy-ending tales. Life isn’t always that way.
31. I stopped listening to the radio and all the crap it spews in 1997. I started listening to NPR a few years ago and haven’t turned it off, yet.
32. I believe in Karma. She, like gravity, can be a harsh mistress.
33. I have been haunted by a ghost. She tucked me into my bed at night.
34. I had 2 dreams as a kid: to be a can-can girl and to be in a dance company. I was 17 when I made first and 28 when I made the second come true.
35. I knew the entire soundtracks to Hair and Fiddler on the Roof when I was 4 years old
36. I have walked through the lava tubes of a live volcano in HA.
37. I abhor Wal-Mart. This world would be a better place, if it never happened.
38. I can’t sleep while wearing socks, no matter how cold.
39. I had the chicken pox when I was 12. It was right after my first Billy Idol concert, 8th grade graduation and summer was off to a bumpy start.
40. If I have loved you once, I will for the rest of my life, whether you are currently in my life or not. (My ex-husband is the only one excluded from this and we all know why.) If we were friends once for five minutes or 30+ years, today or 30+ years ago; I will always remember you, fondly and you have a special place in my heart.