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.

Thrown for a Loop

Man, oh man have I been thrown for a loop and through the ringer. This stupid Crohn's flair-up that started early last year is still kicking me in the shorts. It is still like reliving 1996, at least this time it is without all the family drama. Well, OK there is family drama, but not like then! Here we are 25 days into the new year, our nation has a new leading man, I have a new job (OMG!!! Thank you to Laurie, Kenny and Terry!) and my GI tract is playing drama queen. My head feels better, even if my guts don't. I love my new job and and I am so fortunate to have it. I have my mucho-mucho needed infusion tomorrow morning, by Tuesday morning (better if tomorrow afternoon) will be ready to take the world by the horns.

Everyday I drive to work and home I give a verbal "Thank You!" to what ever powers that be. Karma, I am paying it forward! I do not care if the Tucson rush hour traffic thinks I am nuts for being happy. They can take the smile on my face and the thanks I have on their drive home everyday. Muhahahaaaa! I am making a fraction of what I have made in my previous employed lives, but I'm working. Have I mentioned how happy I am to have a job?

I am on the little sad side to miss Paul this weekend. While I am at home in Tempe, he is camping with the doggers and friends in the Superstition Springs Mountains. A big Trans-Supes 4 Day Adventure. It will be Daisy Mae's second camp trip and Mina's first. I look forward to hearing all about it. Any who, I am in the house and it is quiet with the occasion crazy cat action. I wanted to be here two days ago, but thought better to leave yesterday, to be incapable of getting out of bed all day. OK, I did make it out of my bed to the back of the house for the Clarabelle check and to the sofa to watch a movie. But that wasn't until sometime after 4. I was able to get down and keep down some rice, jello and toast. They must have given me the gumption to get on the road today, 2 days late. Poor Zelda had been without her pill crazy pill and was a touch manic when I pulled into the driveway.

Being chronically ill and having animals around all the time can be a bit off putting. I love the companionship. I love the unconditional love (with the exception of Clarabelle's mood swings and biting issues, but I have grown to accept those. So, I care for a cat with falconer gloves? What's wrong with that?). The part that unnerves me is the sitting vigil. Like they are waiting for me to explode? Implode? Die? Burst into flames? What? What am I going to do? I was stoned to the gills on my various anti-thises and anti-thats meds with Clarabelle curled at my stomach, Pepper (Mom's brainless cat) at my feet and Bridgette at the bedroom door. I slept in one position for a few hours and not one cat or dog moved. To be honest, come dinner time the dog had different priorities and abandoned me for the length of a can of Mighty Dog, but returned to her post. Poor Katie Scarlet was at the other end of the house making sure my bed didn't fly off to outer space in case I should return for another nap. She read me the riot act when I came to bed after the movie. Honestly, I do not know where I would be without my kids. Tonight, who will be my companion in bed? D'Eggo for sure. Zelda more than likely. Possibly Casper, too. There isn't enough room for all of them and me. Good thing the sofa will not be covered in dogs in case I need some sleep.

Tomorrow is my infusion and I will need to be sure to have the next one scheduled sooner than the typical eight weeks. I do not like the fact I have fallen so far from healthy. I have not been able to run or even walk far. I move about the house like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. Not pretty at all. I hope I can make it six weeks. I think I will have a hissy fit if I need it every four weeks. And so what if I do? I will be the picture of health sooner, not later. 'Cuz let me tell you: "This blows."

Thanks for listening!

Good News

I have abandoned the ranks of the unemployed! I am back in the black and working. What a relief! Today was the first day after being hired pretty much on the spot, yesterday. My new boss was quite frazzled after her last office manager up and left after giving her 2 seconds notice. I have a friend of a friend and a that friend to thank for recommending me to the new place and vice versa.

There was some deep irony somewhere as I was driving to and from the interview listening to NPR report the numbers of the unemployed. A dark irony was there, somewhere.

Today was a good day. It was the first day on the job and I worked with the new boss lady. I think it is a good match. She has had some bumps and bruises along the way with my predecessors, but in a few hours I left them in the dust! I dazzled her with my Excel spreadsheet skills. It was truly fabulous. I feel fabulous!

After applying to so many jobs to never receive any feedback or learn via NPR the companies where I had applied were cutting jobs, I was discouraged. I began drowning my sorrows in third grade AIMS pretest Math test grading for Mom and a fellow teacher. Hey, I got an Endanger Species chocolate bar out of the deal. That doesn't suck at all. And then ring-ring went my phone and here I sit today: employed.

So far 2009 is smoothing itself nicely.

The Good of 2008

My current list of The Good of 2008:

• Appreciating my family, Paul, Bridgette, Clarabelle, Casper, Grendel (rest in peace, my old man), Katie Scarlet, Pixel, Reece and Zelda
• Loving Daisy Mae, Diego and Mina, our newest family members
  
• Thanking old friends: Laurie, Gary & Renee, Grant, Heather, Golondrina, Monica, Suzanne & Todd
• Reconnecting with long lost friends: Robin and Meredith
• Making new friends: Luz, Yolanda
• Vampire Masquerade Ball w/ my dancing peeps
• Duran Duran concert w/ Laurie
• Girls’ Weekend w/ Heather (oh, the cheese...)
  
• Deciding to return to school (for sure) in January ’09: Human Resources watch out.
• Raised $4501 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
• Raised $350 for the Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America
• 5k for the Cheetah Conservation Fund
• Half marathon for LLS (Both good and bad)
• Running improved my bone density back to normal levels!
• Battled new and improved complications of my CD and won for now. Suck it Crohn's. You haven't heard the last of me.

A few days into 2009 and it isn't so bad

I was madder than a bag of cut snakes until noonish on January 1, 2009. Spending the day doing nothing of worldly importance other than buying sassy underwear, drinking tea and skulking through Bookman's with my dear Suzanne; I felt much better come dinner time. After Paul slept off the remainder of his sick, he took me out for a bite to eat.

The first day of the new year was saved.

Happy New Year 2009

It has been only 11 hours since the new year began. I have not slept, yet. I went to a party, but left early thinking it would be best to ring in the new with Paul. I got to the house with minutes to spare. I popped the bubbles, Mina stole the cork (and has been nomming it since), we clinked glasses with friends visiting from CO, and a few minutes later the fun began. Paul got sick and puked everywhere. The sofa, the rug, his shirt, a pillow, a blanket. What a freakin' mess. I cleaned everything he graced. He was like a little kid or a dog, retching... retching... retching. I stayed up and watched him until the spice stopped flowing. A couple hours ago the visiting friends departed, Paul got himself cleaned up and in bed, I made myself breakfast, Daisy stole it and ate it. I think I'm going to get cleaned up and head out. Seriously? Is this the beginning of my new and improved year? Ugh.

I am compiling a list of all the things that were good in 2008. In the same token all the things that sucked. I will keep the sucking list to myself.

"Ordinary World"

~Duran Duran, 1993

Came in from a rainy Thursday
On the avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly

I turned on the lights, the TV
And the radio
Still I can't escape the ghost of you

What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some are saying
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

Passion or coincidence
Once prompted you to say
"Pride will tear us both apart"
Well now pride's gone out the window
Cross the rooftops
Run away
Left me in the vacuum of my heart

What is happening to me?
Crazy, some'd say
Where is my friend when I need you most?
Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

Papers in the roadside
Tell of suffering and greed
Here today, forgot tomorrow
Ooh, here besides the news
Of holy war and holy need
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk

And I don't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

Every one
Is my world, I will learn to survive
Any one
Is my world, I will learn to survive
Any one
Is my world
Every one
Is my world

The Right Decision

For my entire life I have had a hand in animal rescue. I blame my dad. He was constantly bringing home homeless creatures: a skunk, a snake, a jackrabbit and others. After moving to Arizona, the salvation kept going. After my childhood dog, Socks, died, I went o the Humane Society to save another life to companion our other dog, Tara. Tara was heartbroken when she lost Socks. Then there were the sparrows, quail, cottontails and other desert dwellers. Eventually, I was back to cats. Clarabelle was found with her mother and littermates under a dumpster. Bailey was found hiding under the wheel of our truck. Katie Scarlet needed a home. Smokey was abandoned and mine for a few days when his family came back for him. Paul has had 20 some cats in and out of his life of cat rescue. For the last almost five years, it was cats only. When we moved in together there were 7 cats: Casper, Grendel, Pixel, Reece, Zelda, Clarabelle and Katie Scarlet and the two of us. Two years ago I had to place Clarabelle with my mother after Bailey died. She could not take the competition of 7 cats. It broke my heart, but I knew she was in the best hands. This September, the house was upped one cat, Diego and one dog, Daisy Mae. They were only going to stay until their previous owner could place them. Well, they stayed. Seven cats, one dog and two humans are a lot to manage. Then Mina came along. Which brings me to my story…

Monday morning Paul and I ran some errands. Upon our return from the morning errands Paul and I noticed 2 dogs running down our street. We went after them. Paul in one direction to the Brindle Bull Terrier, me after the yellow mutt-type dog. Thankfully, the yellow mutt had only gotten out of her yard and the owner was home. The owner was apologetic, but did not know anything about the terrier.

Who would know? Linda, the cat/dog sitter for the neighborhood. We asked and she was pretty sure the dog belonged to a person on our street.

After calling all the disconnected phone numbers on Spanky’s tag, Paul took him to the house believed to be his, left a note on the door, left him on a leash tied to the door and a bowl of water. Our concern was taking Spanky to the pound could be one extra step for his owner to make. We wanted man and dog to be reunited without so much fuss. Just get him home. If it meant babysitting Spanky for a few hours, what would that hurt us? We went to finish the errands we had on the list. Maybe a half an hour later Paul received call from a woman about Spanky. Spanky was not her dog. Paul told her he would be back in an hour or 2, could she please call animal control to pick him up. OK, fine. We did what we could and it was time to get The Man involved.

Paul and I returned to see the leash was on the ground next to the bowl of water. Great! Spanky was on his way to somewhere! No, the stupid bitch took him off the leash and let him go. LET HIM GO?!?!?!!! He was 2-doors down from her house. I was livid. I wanted to go to her house and tear her a new one. WTF was she thinking? “Not my dog. Not my problem.” People like this making me punching mad. I grabbed Spanky and held him until Paul returned with the leash. I ran into the house, got our dogs inside, so Paul could bring Spanky into the backyard.

Paul and I started searching online and trying to decipher Spanky’s well-worn tags. Nothing. Paul asked me if it was the right thing to take Spanky to Animal Care. I agreed. Spanky had been out for a few hours, he was still in the ‘hood, he was well cared for, well mannered; he just broke out. We loaded Spanky into the backseat of the truck and made our way to Animal Care. He had a record with them, not a bad one, just registration. We had to pass by the kennels to get him to where animals are dropped. Passing those kennels with all those dogs was crippling to me. I was trying so hard to believe this was the right decision. After all, no one was looking for Mina. If Paul had brought her here, there was no guarantee she would find a loving family and home; she would be doomed to die. I will not live with that. We waited in the rain for the door to open. I cried and cried. A volunteer came to us and asked how she could help. Probably thinking I was crying because we were giving up our sweet, handsome dog and I could not live with myself. Paul told her the story of the day and how he recently took in Daisy and Mina and his home for wayward cats. The volunteer was touched and shared if Spanky’s owner didn’t come to claim him in 4 days, he would be put up for adoption. She also shared since he is a pure-breed he will be adopted very quickly. There were two families already in the facility this week looking for a bull terrier. I guess that helped. The door finally opened and we took Spanky in the building. I was so relieved to hear his owner had already been in looking for him a few hours earlier. No matter what, Spanky’s story was a happy one in the end. Then, I had to walk by the kennels again. I was inconsolable and could not breathe by the time we got into the truck.

It was the right decision to keep Mina. It was the right decision to take Spanky to Animal Care. It was, wasn’t it?

In this rough time our country is facing, people are failing to be the least they can be: Human. They are abandoning their homes, leaving their pets inside the home or in the yard with and without food and water. They are opening their gates and letting their pets fend for themselves. Some are even driving their pets to the desert or another part of the city and dumping them. They are callously throwing away the one member of their family who never judged them, always loved them unconditionally and asked for only love and a good home in return. Why not dump your baby in the desert somewhere? That may sound obscene to most, but it is NOP DIFFERENT in my book.

I cannot give every abandoned animal a home with me. But, I can watch over the animal for an hour, a day, a week or a month until he or she can be placed with someone, who will love unwaveringly.

Come on America. Get your shit together. It is the right thing to do.

A New Girl in Paul’s Life

Her name is Mina. She was known as “Yellow Dog” for the first 2 weeks, while Paul tried to find her family and home.

Paul was walking Daisy and Bridgette (my 12 year-old dog visiting from Tucson) when he came along a dog with a collar, but no tags. He spent days and days putting up posters in a 2-mile radius of where he found her wandering the canal. He posted her picture on every lost pet website he could find. No takers. Well, there was this one guy who thought claiming she was his dog without any other information about her was a fun, practical joke. Suffice it to say the situation escalated into involving the police and the guy backing off asking “What? You can’t take a joke?” Paul was fit to be tied. He was upset by this jack-hole, he was upset because no one was looking for her. Was she abandoned?

After exhausting his search options, Paul started to grow fond of this yellow dog. She is Daisy sized. She and Daisy romp, play, tussle, nom and nap together. It has been good for Daisy to have a playmate since her old buddy, Grendel, is gone. Paul did not want to name her. Once she was named, she was going to stay. He started thinking through names. I suggested Mina and a few others, but Mina stuck. It felt right and she seemed to like it. How ever much a dog can like her name. Mina has warm, loving eyes that make him turn to a puddle, every time she worms her way on to his lap.

Caught in a love triangle, Paul is thinking it will best to give Mina a home of her own. He has such a strong, special bond with Daisy. Right now, only time will tell if Mina will stay or find a home of her own. If she does find a home of her own, I hope it is close to Paul and Daisy. Close enough for play dates and adventures. A home where she will be top dog and receive the love she deserves and returns ten fold.

Grendel

He was 18 years-old. For the last 2 years of his life he was on medication for a hyperthyroid, he was on IV fluids and special food; he was so skinny. To me, he was my "Old Man". He was sweet and cuddley. He loved to curl up with me to watch a movie, read and sleep. I loved it, too.

Grendel on his blue blankey.

Paul would regale me with stories of his more thuglike years. "He took out Nanook's eye." When I met "G-Dog", he was the biggest brute in the house. But, he was a lady's man. My friend, Heather, described him as the "George Clooney of cats". He was. In his later years he acted more like a typical, "Get off my lawn, you damn kids!" old man. He would sit on the floor at the foot of our bed and yell at us to get up and feed him. He eventually he made these subtle, little chirping sounds with a lilt on the end. Aaron nicnamed him "Grenpa". I always imagined him as a Peter Falk type, grumbling and wearing a rumpled suit, one with elbow patches. For a cat who had never lived with a dog, he and Daisy became the house's odd couple. Quite the May-December romance. She watched over him, cleaned him, napped with him.

Grendel and Daisy in their typical nap stance.

He went peacefully in the best way for him. He never gave us "the sign" that he was ready to go. He simply asked to be let out yesterday afternoon for his daily nap in the sun. He curled up in the warmth and went to sleep. Grendel, you will be missed. You had a good life. I am lucky to have been a part of it.

From Grendel to his droves of adoring female fans...

To all the girls I've loved before

Who traveled in and out my door

I'm glad they came along

I dedicate this song

To all the girls I've loved before

Thank you to my friends who have said wonderful things about Grendel. The house wasn't the same without him.

November 2008

Where to begin? I started the month sick and ended the month even sicker. I started the month employed and ended it unemployed. Once upon a time I had health insurance, now I no longer do. And my stepfather died. It was a long month.

Due to losing my health insurance, a very long and tragic ordeal, I was unable to receive my infusion (the VERY EXPENSIVE) drug, that keeps me in remission for 8 weeks at a time, for 5 weeks. After some paperwork was filled and sent to the drug company I was approved for a program that gives patients the drug at the cost of the time spent in the doctor’s office. Tell me why I did not hear about this program before I started paying through the nose to COBRA? Suffice it to say, the cost of time spent in the doctor’s office is a fraction of the amount I was paying to not have to pay regular retail ($5000/infusion). Yes, $5000; that was no typo. Since Nike I have been sick like it was 1996 all over again, except this time I knew what I was fighting. I lost 15 pounds from malnutrition, vomiting and other nefarious indigestions. Why wouldn’t everyone want to try this diet of losers?

Then I lost my job. I am looking and it is getting harder by the day. I think I have a good lead and it disappears. Did you know 533,000 people lost their jobs in November? At least I am not alone out there in the market already saturated with job seekers. I’m in great company and out numbered.

After a long, defeating and ugly battle with emphysema and COPD my mother’s husband of 25 years finally died November 18th. Mom took a leave of absence to care for him in his final months. She was a real trooper. He was a real SOB. He was only worse as the end dragged on and on. If I believed in it, I would probably go to hell for that ”SOB” comment, but I wouldn’t be alone. We did not see eye to eye and I will leave it at that.

After his death Mom and I spent time with family in CA. Friends and family we had not seen in almost 3 years, because we were unable to leave her husband alone for more than a couple of hours, we got to see.

As this year draws to a close in 21 days, I look back on it. It sucked. I spent most of the year sick, fighting with my changing disease and symptoms. I stood by my family in Tucson and watched death take her sweet time. I lost my job. I couldn’t even run my half-marathon. I lost more than I gained in 2008.

Yes, I am down. I am very down. I hope 2009 is an improvement. I usually fight and put on the face of someone who does not give up or let "it" get me down. I do not have what it takes right now to fight and I am very tired. I ask for permission to be sad and feel defeated.

Nike Women's Marathon 08: Monday & Wrap-up

I received this email last night after I had posted my recaps. It is from my friend and leukemia survivor, Alice. She says it all with only a few words.

Erica,

You did it under terrible circumstances…. But the point is… you did it and didn’t give up. That’s what beating these diseases is all about huh?!

Great job!

Alice and the boys

Alice~ You said it. That is what this is all about. Yes, I felt like crap and it took me longer than I had hoped, but I could not have made it through and finished without the love and support of my family and friends. No, they were not there. I had to make the journey on my own. Just like the journeys the patients make. Ultimately, the patient must find the will, strength and survivor instinct from within. My little, urpy walk through San Francisco on a chilly day canNOT hold a candle to the journey the patients make. It does make me appreciate my "good" health more.

Monday! Monday! Monday!
All through Sunday night I would suddenly jerk awake after the sensation of falling. My legs were having a good laugh. Very funny. Ha ha.

I rolled out of bed at the crack of 11am. I could not help but glare out the hotel window at the clear blue skies smiling down on us. I guess we could do nothing but, get out there and under the the blue. (Wasn't it grey just yesterday?) We had just enough time to clean up, pack and check out. OMG, I felt like I had been hit by a garbage truck. It took a full hour to choke down some oatmeal. And then it just sat in my throat. Sat there, mocking me. Luz and I decided to take a little walk downtown. What the crap was I thinking?

Of course when we hit the streets of San Francisco it was lunch time. Every bloody shack, shop and eatery was bulging at its seams. We kept passing this super cool looking restaurant and bar, 40 Cycles of Yesteryear. Luz was hankering for some soup, so we peaked at their menu; but not before falling in love with the red-headed Mr. Higgins napping on his red velvet sofa!

He was HUGE, a real bounder. I had a Coke, while hanging with Mr. Higgins. Luz had some soup. It was so good to see her get her appetite back. Me? The mere thought of food sent me reeling. Mr. Higgins' caretaker and owner of the bar, Norman, sat on his own read velvet sofa across from us. We chatted a bit. Thanked them and headed into the day.

We stopped at Boudin Bakery for a loaf of sourdough to take home to Mom. Some how we ended back at Union Square and meandering through the biggest Macy's for Women I had ever seen. I got to the second floor and crashed onto a couch weaker than ever. I could not move another step. But, I did have a couple of hours to get myself back that 1 mile to the hotel.

By the time we got back to the hotel I was tossing my guts, again. I had nothing left, only bile. That's fun. I had no choice but to take out the big guns: my Crohn's meds. Anti-spasmatics and anti-emetics. This double dose makes me stooopid and sleepy. I was pouring sweat and getting dumber by the minute. I cannot believe I claimed my bags, got to the bus, fell asleep on the bus, check in at the airport, made it through security, found the gate and fell asleep in the waiting area. And might I say the waiting area was so cold you could hang a side of a cow in it? Sweet cracker sandwich, it was cold. Luz loaned me a sweatshirt and a coat to keep warm. We got to the airport 2 hours prior to our flight and then news came: Flight delayed. Bugger. Good thing I had enough drugs in me to tranq an elephant.

We finally boarded the plane and we were on our way home. I slept through the 2 hour flight. When we landed in Phoenix I was coherent enough to call Paul to tell him where we were. When I saw him at baggage claim, I was so relieved. I was home.

I crashed. I could not get out of bed for anything. Paul brought me Gatorade and Matzo ball soup. Here it is 4 days after the Nike Women's Death March and I am starting to feel sub-human again. I happy to be surrounded by my Paul, kitties and puppy.

Would I do it again? Yes. For two reasons: #1 For Alice and Daddy and the fight we must continue to fight. Fight until I attend the Last Pre-Race Pasta Dinner, because the cure is here. And #2 To whip this race! I set out to run in the Nike Women's Marathon and by gum, I will. It has not beaten me. I will see it, match it and beat it. I probably will not win it, but that isn't even in the top50 reasons to do it for me. (I have seen the numbers of the winners. I could not beat them in a car.)

So, yeah... I have a score to settle in my future. I think I will get a few other half marathons under my belt before I go slapping NWM with the white gloves. Who knows, it could be in 2009?

Nike Women's Marathon 08: Sunday

OMG! I can only report on the pieces I remember and those that were shared with me. I don't remember getting up, showering, eating oatmeal, dressing, donning a garbage bag and getting to the Start Line. I do remember throwing up the oatmeal before leaving the hotel room. Great. I remember staring at the Patron billboard during the National Anthem, unable to find the American Flag. I remember it was cold. Very cold. Something around 57 degrees and wind.

The gun went off at 7am. I started running. I ran slowly to the pier. I ran for a little over 4.5 miles. Then I hit the wall. And threw up on it. I could not run another step. It took every bit of energy I had to put one foot in front of the other. I ran. I walked. I jogged. I barfed. I dragged. I tried to drink water. I stopped three times for water. I drank my Gatorade. I choked down a package of Sharkies.

It was growing colder. The sky was grey. I had to keep moving. When I saw our assistant coach, Sarah, somewhere around mile six. I was trying to keep it together. I had another 7+ miles to go. I could not hear the support crews cheering me on, calling my name. All I could hear was ny stomach pleading with me to quit. My legs were cramping. No fuel. I grabbed a wedge of orange. Mistake. I kept moving forward. Just move forward. It was so cold. I never took off my jacket. I was passed by a chic in flip flops. I was passed by a chic in crocs. Ugh. I was dragging myself every step of the way. I was so relieved to come to mile 10, where it overlooked the finish zone. I knew I had 3+ miles to go. Somewhere on the course I realized: This course is longer than 13.1 miles. My GPS was telling me I had an additional .4 of a mile to get to the finish. (Another runner of the half verified it in passing, as did Paul from info online!)

All I knew was: I must keep moving to the finish. One thing at a time. I saw my coach, Roland, right before the chute and started to cry. I was almost there. Run. Run to the end. I started running and crossed the finish line approximately a week after I started. Kidding! It took a few seconds shy of 4 hours. It was brutal. I started on empty. I ended on less than empty.

One thing at a time. Focus on one thing at a time. Get Tiffany's pendant from random fireman. Pick up Finisher's t-shirt. Remove timing chip. Oh, a banana (I might keep that down). Was it colder? Yes. Go to next point. Wrap in Mylar sheet. Check in with TnT. Grab food: sandwich, Cheetos (my fave part, my victory dance), cookies and a COKE (Elaine said it saved her at IronMan08). I could not eat. I sipped the Coke. The thought of food made me want to wretch more. I had nothing left to expel. I was so cold. I had to get warm.

Focus: one thing at a time. Get checked bag. Go to changing tent. Change clothes. More like pile on what ever clothes I had. I couldn't stop shaking. I was trying not to cry. I hurt all over. I wanted so desperately to have Paul there. I needed his support, warmth and help. I had to do with only text messages. Everything was so loud, my ears were ringing. I was turning hypothermic. If I had to do this by myself, I wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as I could.

But, then I thought about Luz. She was out there alone, too. Sure, we had the Team support, but no one close. No one who could hold our hand for an extended period of time, before being called to the next one in need. I made my way to the massage tent. Maybe a quick stretching and massage would give me some juice. The student who worked me over was awesome. He popped every bone in my back. It hurt like mad, but I stayed there and let him help get the toxins out of of muscles. I poured off the table and thanked him.

Something in me made me go back to the TnT tent to look for Luz. It was insanity in there. Everyone was trying to find a inch of space to keep warm. I walked passed a bunch rows and made my way into the crazy. I looked down, there she was, sitting one aisle over. I sat next to her and she went to pieces. My brain turned my body off. I knew I had to take care of her. I didn't have anyone, but she did. She finished the full marathon, but burned all over her sugar, fuel, everything. She wanted to get out of there. It was so cramped and loud.

We went outside and huddled against the wall separating the street from the beach. It was so cold, but it was not crowded and loud. I dug through my stores of every drug I had with me. I took some Vitamin I (Ibuprofen) and Vitamin V (Vicodin). That helped my body forget the pain and burning stomach. After about 30 minutes we noticed we had been sitting behind the First Aid Tent! I went in to see if they had room for 2 more. It was not crowded and it was WARM! I helped her to a cot. I sat in a chair next to her. She started her vomiting. The nurses who watched over us were wonderful. One brought me a Coke, a warm Coke-The BEST! Another got me a PB&J sandwich. I ate slowly, it burned with every bite. We stayed in there until they started to close the event down.

Luz was in really bad shape. She eventually was taken to St. Mary's Hospital for evaluation. She was released a few hours later. She had not fueled enough over the last weeks of training to get her through this event: 26.2 miles of running. She had been burning muscle. She received fluids and returned to the hotel later. I was unable to go with her to the hospital.

I made my way to the TnT buses back to the city. I almost cried when I found my bus. I did not believe and ad to ask a woman with a clipboard. I found a seat and collapsed. I called Paul. I called Mom. I cried. I tried not to get sick. Thankfully the nice people at the massage tent were giving away towels. I wrapped mine over my head and clippied it to my chin to keep warm. I pressed a corner of it over my mouth to keep from sicking up the bus. Our hotel was the second stop. I raced to the room, trying to beat the next wave of my every churning stomach. I made it back to the room. I was "home".

I peeled off all my clothes. Started brewing tea. Finally, opened my Tiffany's package. Took a hot shower (post race ice bath be damned, I was ice cold.) I crawled into my jammies and bed with my tea and fell asleep for an hour. I felt I needed to make it to the Victory Party. Why? Who knows? I walked over by myself, ate mashed potatoes and a cookie. I talked with a few people and returned to the hotel. I was back in the room for 15 minutes when Luz walked back in. She was looking so much better! We had our own Victory Party in the hotel bar with some chicken noodle soup. Team members started to pour into the hotel bar and come by to say, "Hi." Shortly after, we said "Good night".

It was over. We survived it. What a long day. But, we did it. It was 50 degrees when I finished. No wonder I was cold! Oh, there was the fever making dumber than a box of hair.

Nike Women's Marathon 08: Saturday

I made it through the night and broke my fever. I awakened feeling OK. Luz's friends wanted to take us out for breakfast at Lori's Diner. It was so comforting to be with "familia" for a meal. They may not have been my familia, but that did not matter. By the end of breakfast, we were. Nana and her son Ed live in Sonoma, but have a time share in the city. They were wonderful.

After breakfast Luz and I hit the downtown shopping area like mad! We shared many sights, smells and sounds. We ventured back to the Expotique for postcards and visit the mass hysteria that it was Saturday. By the way, the temp dropped 20 degrees, Saturday was 64 degrees.

We hit Lush, H&M, the Westfield Mall, Lady Footlocker (I was so excited my running shoes came in a new color, just released!! I had to have them.) We tromped around downtown most of the day. I was getting really tired by the time we started heading back to get ready for the pasta party. We got back just in time to clean up and head to dinner. We walked to the Mascone Center to receive an amazing reception from our coaches and staff.

Again, I could not eat much. This was making for a very bad pre-race fuel. My stomach just said, "No. We're all done here."

We still needed to get our race gear ready for the 4:30am wake up call!

By the time I got to bed my fever was in full swing again and I was incoherent. Bad. Very bad.