Showing posts with label my love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my love. Show all posts
where i've been
Update: I've decided that my habit of using initials instead of names makes some sentences confusing and nearly unreadable. Henceforth, I will use my discretion - and mostly use names.
Hey there.
Hey there.
March has been a busy month for our little household. And last week was March Break. We all drove to Toronto and then our oldest, Sacha, went to visit two of his parental grandparents in Florida. It was his first flight (other than a short hop between Toronto and Ottawa) on his own (and he's now too old to be an "unaccompanied minor").
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It seems that I'm not so great at multi-tasking these days. I have lots of blog posts in my head but before I write them, I thought I'd catch you up on what we've been up to since my last post.
On Saturday, March 12, I ran a bunch of errands and packed for our week away. We also went shopping for new clothes that my 7 year old could wear for a theatre date with his Grandma in Toronto.
He was very pleased with this outfit. The photo doesn't do him justice.
On Sunday, March 13, we drove to Toronto. That evening, Tim and I went out for a delicious Indian meal to celebrate our 20th anniversary (we celebrate the anniversary of our first date because our wedding anniversary is September 7. At that time of year, our lives are so busy. Besides, March needs a reason to celebrate). It's hard to believe it's been that long - and we still like each other.
I started my day on Monday, March 14 by lining up outside the Toronto office of Passport Canada, since we had realized the previous Friday (at 4:30) that our son's passport had expired (I can now safely confess this, as he has been and returned to Florida and you all can know that our parental ineptitude didn't lead to tragedy). I was second in line (well before dawn) behind a woman and her two young children from Northern Ontario who had been turned away from their flight to South Carolina the previous day (the woman's MP had assured her that her son could travel to the US on an expired passport. He could not). Her name was also Laurie and her boys were also five years apart. We bonded, as we stood on the pavement outside the passport building for 90 minutes.
Once the new passport was sorted, Tim and I took our youngest to the zoo (Sacha opted to go check out the TIFF building with his Grandma). I didn't take any pictures but we had a great time. It's a sprawling place with animals that appear to be reasonably content. At least I hope so. Daniel was ecstatic. His favourite animals were the gorillas and the bats (no photos. I was too distracted and perhaps still groggy).
On Tuesday, March 15th, Tim drove Sacha to the airport in Toronto (I was happy not to go, since I was beside myself with anxiety) and then headed back to Ottawa to work (he was extremely patient with me as I texted him every forty-five minutes for updates).
I was happily distracted by the wonderful company of my friend Andrea We went out for brunch and then spent a few hours at the Purple Purl, one of my favourite places in the world. Andrea's spouse Patchen joined us for dinner and we three had a lovely meal. I was back at my Mom-in-Law's place before my seven year old who had spent the day with Grandma and gone to both a Second City kids' show and Billy Elliott.
On Wednesday, March 16, Daniel and I took the train to Guelph, where we hooked up with some cousins and went to the Butterfly Conservatory. Despite the heat in the building (I looked with envy at the folks who'd worn shorts), we had a great time. Besides the amazing butterflies (a gorgeous blue one landed on Daniel, to his great delight) there were many kinds of birds, fish and turtles.
Daniel and his young cousin Y. had some strong mutual admiration going on.
On Thursday, March 17, was primo cousin hanging out time. Daniel loved being the oldest cousin. Five year old N. (whose two older sisters were in Florida with Sacha) seemed equally pleased to have some boy time.
I took the boys to see Mars Needs Moms in 3D (great animation, problematic movie) and then we went to a really great park. That evening, the boys entertained each other happily over dinner out (at Swiss Chalet - the pubs were packed with partiers dressed in green) and my brother-in-law and I had the chance to converse in complete sentences (my poor sister-in-law was at home recovering from a very bad case of food poisoning. She was more of a trooper that day than I would have been in her shoes).
On Friday, March 18, we returned to Toronto and I got to spend the afternoon and evening with my dear friend Leslie. We had lunch, browsed the Distillery District, went for a big walk along the Boardwalk and then had dinner at our favourite pub over pints. Meanwhile, Grandma took Daniel up the CN Tower and for a swim at the Y.
We took the train home on Saturday, March 19. We watched far too many episodes of The Magic School Bus but not once did Daniel say, "How much longer?" or "Are we there yet?"
It was a very good week.
scoped
I once had a colleague who was a former Fleet Street journalist. I can't remember his name but I do remember a story he told over a particularly boozy dinner.
"The worst kinds of press releases," he said, "keep all the best bits for the end. That's just not how it should be done. It's like reading a news story that says 'A crowd gathered at Buckingham Palace today. There were also fire engines and ambulances. The corgies were brought out to safety. The Palace burned to the ground. The Queen is dead."
As I went on to work in communications, I kept that anecdote in mind and tried to make sure that the most important facts were kept in the lead of my news releases.
But this is not a news release and I can tell my story in way that pleases me.
I had an endoscopy yesterday.
I wasn't terribly worried when the secretary at reception couldn't find any record of me. I credit the Ativan for that. You still feel the anxiety but it's further away. Almost like it's someone else's anxiety.
She must have found me in the end, because I was called into the endoscopy unit, given an id bracelet and told to change into a robe.
The endoscopy unit at the Civic Hospital could use a facelift. The paint was peeling off the walls in the waiting room and the beds in the prep and recovery area are separated by curtains. My neighbour and I learned a lot about each others' medical histories and bowel movements.
Every nurse I spoke to was very taken aback that I should have metastatic breast cancer at my age.
Every one of the nurses was really kind.
The nurse who took my history and prepped me for the anesthetic noted my "crappy veins" but she got the vein accessed in one poke, so major kudos to her.
My bed was eventually wheeled into the room where the procedure would be done. At this point, I met Dr. A. for the first time. There was another doctor with him who introduced himself so quickly that I didn't catch his name. This second doctor, who I assume was a resident (why don't they introduce themselves as such? Residents always say, "I work with Dr. So and So." They never say "I am learning from Dr. So and So. Do they think the patients can't be trusted with this information? This really bugs me because I can always tell they are residents and I would be much more forgiving if they were honest with me) began to very rapidly list off all the horrendous risks of the procedure and then handed me a waver to sign.
It's a good thing that I had done tons of my own research (and that I had taken the Ativan) because I might have demanded that they wheel me out of there.
Dr. A. asked me if I had signed the waiver and if I had any questions. I said, "I just want to get this over with."
I mentioned my strong gag reflex to Dr. Resident. He instructed the nurse (pompously? Am I being biased?) to give me some extra shots of the anesthetic spray for my throat (I had the distinct impression that the nurse was going to do this anyway but perhaps I am biased). Then they hooked me up to the drip, placed a plastic frame with a hole in it in my mouth and shoved a tube down my throat.
I then proceeded to gag, choke and gasp for breath. Tears streamed down my face.
I'll never forget the nurse who gently held my head and spoke comfortingly to me.
It's amazing how big the endoscopy tube looked to me. There's no way it could have been that big in real life.
I heard Dr. A. say something about how studies had shown that the gag reflex was greatly diminished when Fentanyl is administered.
I heard Dr. Resident sound surprised.
A nurse administered Fentanyl via my IV. And then I was really, really stoned (I just read that Fentanyl is 100 times more potent than morphine and I had a cocktail with other sedatives).
Not sure if I passed out or not but I was pretty woozy. I know they called T. to come and get me. And I know that one of the nurses suggested I try and get dressed.
I sat up and nearly puked. The nurse got me to lie back down again.
Lather, rinse and repeat a few times.
One of the nurses gave me some apple juice, which helped.
I asked what drugs I had been given. A nurse looked that up and said with surprise that I had been given a drug in the Valium family and Fentanyl. She said, "No wonder you're so wasted."
I heard someone mention Gravol (known as Dramamine in the US). I now understand why they give it to me each time they give me Demerol at the cancer centre. They gave me a barf bag.
I texted T. to see why he still hadn't arrived. He texted back that he was in the waiting room. I told him to come get me. He said that the secretary wouldn't let him past the waiting room.
If he wasn't allowed past the waiting room and I wasn't allowed to leave without him (nor could I walk on my own), we were kind of stuck.
One of the nurses went to get him.
Before I left, Dr. A. came to talk to me. He said that I am to come to his office in around four weeks, at which time I will get my results. He also told me that there were no visible tumours (see what I mean about burying the good stuff under a whole pile of details?).
I went home and slept for 6 and a half hours. It would have been longer if T. hadn't come into the room to check on me. I was pretty dopey all evening (giving all my online Scrabble opponents an unfair advantage) and hit the hay before 10.
My throat hurts today and I'm still kind of tired but I did get out for a run (it's 10C here today that's 50F), so I guess I'm recovering pretty well.
In a months time, I'll find out if the biopsies revealed any pre-cancerous cells. Or if I have celiac disease. And Dr. A. promised that if they don't find anyting, he's going to want to do a colonoscopy.
feeling better
Because I've been able to go out for walks and for runs with the dog.
Because I had a really nice weekend and a very nice Valentine's Day (especially for someone who doesn't really celebrate it).
Because I have so many wonderful people in my life.
Because some of my symptoms have improved considerably (and they most definitely did not improve at all before I was diagnosed with the recurrence of cancer).
Because I have survived experiences that have been far more physically traumatic (like giving birth. Twice) than an endoscopy could possibly be.
cluck, cluck.
The following things have occurred in my recent past. My spouse has moved his office to our house and I have acquired a smart phone and the knowledge/ability to send text messages.
Now that we are in the same house all day, it's possible that we actually speak less. He works in the attic and when I want to talk to him, instead of picking up the phone to call him, as I used to, I'm more apt to send a text (I'm late to the texting party, I know but I'm making up for lost time with a vengeance).
The following conversation took place this morning, via text message (the blog post in question is the one directly below about last night's dream):
Me: "Can you proof my blog?"
T.: "Sure."
Me: "Thanks!"
T. (a few minutes later): "No typos, that I could see. Just weirdness."
Me: "Do you want to have me committed?"
T.: "Hardly. We need the eggs."
Me: "I don't understand."
T.: "Old joke about a man who thought he was a chicken."
Me: "SNORT."
riddle me this
I had a very vivid dream last night.
Perhaps you can help me understand it.
I was a participant in a "So You Think You Can Dance" type show and it was time for three "girls" (I know I am long past girlhood but that's how it was worded in my dream) to be voted off by the other contestants.
When it came time for the results to be read, I felt absolutely relaxed. I was very confident that I would not be cut - and yet my name was the second one read out. I was voted off the show.
While I was surprised at this, my disappointment was fleeting and almost immediately replaced by relief. Euphoria even. I wondered to myself if I'd been voted off because I was viewed as a threat but mostly I was just happy to get the hell out of there.
All of this had taken place in a doctor's office waiting room and the three of us who had been ousted were expected to leave right away.
But it was winter and I had lots of gear to put on and then I couldn't find my mittens (this kind of thing happens to me in dreams a lot). I checked in the closet, under chairs and then finally in the bathroom. As I left, after giving up, I noticed that the show's producer (a bland, balding man with a pocket protector) was looking worried.
I quietly asked if I could help with anything and he said, "Not unless you can defuse a bomb."
To which I replied, "Well, actually I can."
When he looked skeptical, I handed him an invisible business card, which he took from me without hesitating. I told him to call the number on it to confirm that I was indeed an undercover agent.
I went to the guest room (yes, there was a guest room. It had a single bed and and a faded bed spread, carpeting and a big closet) to lie down and await the go ahead. I was visualizing defusing the bomb and mentally preparing himself.
A few minutes later, the producer came in a with a younger, heavily made up woman (as though dressed for success in a high end law firm). She was holding a set of rental car keys and said, with disgust, "The number you gave us was for a car dealership."
I was perplexed but determined to sort things out. I gestured towards the cell phone that the man was carrying and dialled the number on the car keys. The phone rang a couple of times and then an automated female voice said, "You are being connected to Leila."
The call was forwarded to Leila's voice mail and I said, "Leila it's Juno. I'm at the studio and there's a bomb here that needs defusing. I need you to get in touch and give the OK."
And then my alarm went off (in real life) and I woke up, very disappointed that I didn't get to defuse the bomb.
I told T. about the dream. He agreed that it was pretty weird. I instructed him to call me Juno all day today.
up to my eyeballs in print: my best of 2010
I read a lot of books last year. Seventy-one books, to be precise. And some of them were really big.
These are my favourites. These ten are the ones I think you should read, too.
Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel - winner of last year's Man Booker award. I found it slow going at first and then was completely swept up in the life of Thomas Cromwell and the intrigues of life in the court of King Henry the VIII. It's made me want to read a lot more about Henry and the folks who advised and served him.
An Abundance Of Katherines by John Green- my twelve year old rediscovered reading when he found John Green and he begged me to read this book. I reluctantly agreed, not having read much young adult ficiton (or YA, as the kids call it) and then went on to devour this novel and almost everything else this author has written.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan - the authors alternate the chapters in this book. The title refers to two high school students (one straight, one gay) named Will Grayson. The real star of the book, however, is a gay football player named Tiny who writes and directs a musical of his life story. I loved everything about this book.
by Patchen Barss - This work of non-fiction puts forward the theory that, from the beginning of humanity, pornography has driven technological change. The argument is very persuasively made but it was the author's writing that really captured me. I am not particularly interested in technology and not really interested in porn but I could not put this book down. I kept going back to re-read turns of phrase and often found myself laughing out loud. Several folks got this one for Christmas and I'm not done giving it away.
Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen - This book has been out for a while but I read it with my book club this year. It was kind of a boring meeting because no one had anything critical to say about this beautiful story, told very well. I now want to read everything else the author has written.
Villa Triste by Lucretia Grindle - With a name like that, how could she not become a writer? This book is part murder mystery, part historical novel. I fell in love with the characters in this book and could not stop thinking about them when I had to put the book down. Set in Italy during the second world war, the book tells the story of several women involved in the Resistance movement, whether by choice or out of necessity.
The Princess of Burundi: A Mystery by Kjell Eriksson - Steig Larsson was not the only Swedish writer. This book had been on my shelf for a few years and I'm not sure why I waited to read it. Darkly funny with a smart mystery and flawed, likeable characters this book held my interest from the very first page. Be warned, the book has little to do with Burundi and quite a bit to do with tropical fish.
The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger - Last summer, I finally found out what the fuss was about. I read this book on holiday, reading during quiet moments and listening to the audiobook when I was out for walks with my dog. It really is a beautiful love story that, in my opinion, never descends to the realm of the schmaltzy. And it stayed with me, which is impressive, given how quicly I read it.
The Devil's Company: A Novel by David Liss - Another brilliant, well-researched historical mystery from David Liss. I love the roguish Benjamin Weaver and the intelligent humour of all these novels. You could go back and start with A Conspiracy of Paper,the first Weaver novel but it really doesn't matter.
This year my goal is to read seventy-two novels (I don't watch a lot of television) and, since reading around here is a family affair, toying with the idea of a family book blog.
happy new year!
In 2010, I:
Made soup.
Started running again and kept at it (in fact, I did the Resolution Run 5K last night before breaking into the wine and fondue).
Started editing my novel. It doesn't really have an ending yet but I don't totally hate what I've written, so that's a start.
Found a writing buddy.
Knit a lot of dish cloths.
Played lots of Scrabble/Lexulous
Had my heartbroken when my dog died.
Went to Florida in the in the summer to get away from a heat wave.
Spent some quality time with girlfriends.
Organized a team for the Run for the Cure, called No Pink for Profit. By run day, we were more than 40 women and we raised more than $20,000.
Fell in love with Twitter.
Finally got a smart phone.
Learned that grief is not a linear process.
Spent a lot of time thinking about community, friends and family. I am very, very lucky.
For 2011, I wish us all love, peace, good health and many wonderful adventures.
but i have an excuse (actually i have a few)
I bailed on National Novel Writing Month on the first day, having written just under 700 words.
I felt like there were too many other interesting bits of writing that I wanted to do, including continuing to edit last year's novel.
And then my life became insane. I've been really hard on myself for all the things I'm not doing lately. This week, though, I've had two people who are very important to me (my coach/therapist and my friend DM) listen to me unload and then tell me that I would have every right to feel overwhelmed with a fraction of what I've got on my plate.
I tend to be hard on myself because I don't work outside the home right now. If I don't go to a job I feel like I should just sail through my other commitments. It felt really good to list everything going on in my life and have two women I respect offer support and sympathy. I've decided that I need to cut myself a lot more slack.
I can do NaNoWriMo next year. I'm OK with that. But I did feel a pang when my son sent me this video:
NaNoWriMo was a fun kind of crazy. I just couldn't let the rest of my life go to do it this year.
makeover day
We arrived at the studio very early.
The anticipation was far worse than the experience of being on camera, which went pretty smoothly. And I didn't fall down!
The Fab Four with Tony from L'Elégance Hair (Tony gave us hours of his time - all day Monday and early Wednesday morning - taking great care with our colour and cuts. This lovely man is an artist. You should all go to St. Laurent Centre and get him to do your hair).
My favourite interviewer.Blogging on the fly today (more pics and words about all of this soon) but I didn't want to let another day go by without acknowledging those who made this possible.
My friends AB for nominating me, SS for coming on Monday and MR for getting up early and joining my family at the studio.
My man and my boys (all photos courtesy of SKW) for the nomination, for getting up early to come to the studio and cheering every step of the way (and for saying that I was beautiful BEFORE I had the makeover).
The staff at Laura, Town Shoes, and L'Elégance Hair Salon.
Tasha and Renée from the St. Laurent Centre for the styling and the support.
To the lovely and talented woman who did all of our makeup on Wednesday morning (her name is escaping me. If you know it, please let me know so I can credit her).
And most of all, to Bernice from the St. Laurent Centre and Beth from the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. These women are dynamos who combine talent and determination with an enormous amount of compassion and kindness.
And finally, I need to mention Paula, JL and Tanya - the women with whom I went through this experience. The love, support and joy that each felt for each other and for me is impossible to express in words. Thanks so much for being so beautiful. I really do love each one of you.
It must be mentioned that this was all in aid of the Courage Campaign of the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. The Foundation is building a Wellspring Centre that will provide "emotional, psychological and educational support, free of charge, to individuals and families living with cancer." As a an ongoing cancer patient, I can tell you that this the kind of thing that Ottawa needs desperately, to go along with the cutting edge medical care from which we all benefit.
It's not too late to make a donation! (The St. Laurent Centre, in addition to funding the makeovers, donated an additional $10,000 to the campaign. I know where I'm doing my Xmas shopping this year).
makeover show tomorrow
For those in the Ottawa area, my makeover will be televised on the A Channel tomorrow morning. My segments will air tomorrow morning at 9:13, 9:35 and 9:48.
Yesterday, I shopped and had my hair done. Tune in tomorrow for the big "reveal." Look at my smile in this pic. I was very spoiled and surrounded by amazingly caring people all day. I was overwhelmed by the kindness and enthusiasm of everyone I met, including the other three women who joined me in this adventure.
Thanks so much to the St. Laurent Centre and the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation for making this happen, to T. and AB for nominating me and to SS for coming with me for moral support (and taking all these great photos).
when the doorbell rang (part 1)
It's 3:00 am and about half an hour ago, my doorbell rang.
At least I think it did, but my spouse thinks I was dreaming. I remember that I was dreaming but about eating pastries while being handed a wad of twenty dollar bills. Who interrupts a dream about eating pastries and getting free money by dreaming the door bell? Some kind of Freudian diet police?
My reaction to the doorbell ringing was swift. I woke up my husband.
And then I lay there all cozy and warm in our bed while he went downstairs to investigate. I even muttered (somewhat sheepishly), "Be careful."
It was like something from one of the sitcoms I watched when I was growing up. Except that by then it was the seventies and eighties and in the sitcoms the wives would tiptoe downstairs behind their husbands.
And the men would usually be clutching a baseball bat.
We don't keep a baseball bat by the bed. We don't even own a baseball bat. The only thing close at hand that would be the approximate size and weight one could swing at an evildoer would be the dog. Who, incidentally, wasn't barking. I suppose one could take that as further evidence that I was dreaming.
So T. went downstairs and checked the front and back doors. There was no one there.
I think that whoever it was ran away. T., as I said before, thinks I dreamed it.
Fortunately, my dear spouse fell back asleep almost immediately. He's snoring now, as I type this, wide awake. Some kind of karmic justice?
The thing is our doorbell did ring, at around this time, last Saturday night when I was out of town. It was also the night before Hallowe'en, which at least in the telling, makes it creepier. But that's a story for another blog post.
Maybe now that I've confessed, I'll be permitted to return to dreamland.
what i would miss
I just did an interesting writing prompt from Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldberg:
"Tell me what you will miss when you die."The instructions were to write for ten minutes without censoring yourself. Here's what I wrote:
My kids
My spouse
My family
My friends
My dog
Beautiful fall days
Walks along the canal with my dog
Getting lost in a book
Taking a nap on a cold afternoon
Knitting with friends
The feeling of euphoria when I write something good
Music
Good food
Laughing
Wondering at art
A hot bath after exercise
Physical intimacy (all kinds)
The happy feeling when I unexpectedly run into someone I like
Learning new things
Aha! moments
Seeing people do good things
Being proud of my children
Noisy gatherings around my dining room table
Doing fun things for the first time
Doing familiar things that make me happy
Connecting creatively or intellectually
Making new friends
Having old friends and family members who 'get' me
Scrabble
Fresh starts
Clean sheets
Small kindnesses
Spectacular acts of bravery
Feeling proud of myself
The way the pavement smells after a summer rain
The possibility of tomorrow
What about you?
ottawa october
All photos: K. BruinIn October, I live in the most beautiful place in the world.
On, Thanksgiving week end (two weeks ago for those of you reading outside of Canada), my family was so fortunate to have a wonderful guest. My friend K. and I have been friends since we were 17 years old. We met as new room-mates in Room 1 of McLaughlin House at Lester B. Pearson College of the Pacific. She was there representing the Netherlands and I hailed from Hawkesbury, Ontario.
We became friends pretty much instantly, through struggles with friendships, school and heartbreak and whole lot of fun. We travelled to Vancouver together and she once took me out on a sail boat into the bay so I could engage in a little primal screaming.
In my second year, after she'd graduated, I missed her terribly. We've been lucky though. Work has brought her to Canada three times in the last five years and we've been able to spend time together. My family has fallen in love with her. And I can't wait until next year, when she comes back.
When we were at school together, we lived in a very beautiful place and I know that K. loves this country almost as much as I do. But until this year, she'd never seen Eastern Ontario on a beautiful fall day.
This year, we had a chance to rectify that and we took advantage of the long week end and the glorious fall weather to go for a walk in Gatineau Park. K. was the only one of us who took photos on our outing and she's given me permission to share them with you. My only regret? There are no photos of the two of us together. We'll have to rectify that next year.
just another conversation
I've started to record bits of conversation that occur at our house. This one took place yesterday morning betweem my spouse and me.
T.: "Can you send a Facebook message to someone who's not your Friend on Facebook?"
Me: "You can. I get emails all the time from strange men saying they can't live without me."
T.: "You do?"
Me: "Yes, sometimes they say they saw my photo and that they can't stop thinking about me."
T.: "Wow."
Me: "I especially wonder about those because my profile photo is of the dog."
(Conversation interrupted by laughter)
Me: "I think they might be spam."
T.: "In those cases, I hope they are, because the alternative is disturbing."
down-time at the ottawa folk festival
My spouse and youngest son and I went to the Ottawa Folk Festival this past week end. I love these shots T. took of D. and I chilling out between the afternoon and evening programming.
I didn't have any pockets, so I resorted to an old habit of sticking my cable needle in my cleavage. Except, I don't really have cleavage any more. The pointy cable needle kept falling over and I had to keep reaching into my bra to fish it out.
This amused me.
The scarf I'm making has one asymmetrical cable.
This amuses me, too.
i get personal with the Run for the Cure
This is the text from my page at Run for the Cure site;
Thanks for visiting my personal page.
I was diagnosed with very agressive breast cancer in January 2006. In November of that year, I learned that it had spread to my liver.
My oncologist told me that the were "more tumours than they could count" and when I asked how long I could expect to live, he reluctantly answered, "Years. Not decades."
Fast forward to June 2007, when after several rocky months of treatments, I started feeling much better. Then, on June 30th 2007, a scan confirmed what my body had been telling me - there was no longer any sign of cancer in my body!
I have been in remission for three years. I'll remain in treatment (chemotherapy and Herceptin every four weeks) for the forseeable future, though. There are so few women in my postion that no one can reliably say what will happen if I stop. But I've noticed that my family and are planning ahead and casually making reference to events that will take place years in the future and assuming that I will be there.
I am running on October 3rd so that more women will be granted a future they thought had been stolen from them.
I'm running in the hope that some day soon women like me can walk away from treatment with confidence that the cancer is behind them.
I'm running so that my nieces and other young girls need never worry about breast cancer at all.
Can you support me (please)?
I have added a permanent link to the blog (top right hand side) that you can click on any time, if you want to make a donation.
I have added a permanent link to the blog (top right hand side) that you can click on any time, if you want to make a donation.
43 things (part two)
15. My family gave me the Regretsy book, and two cds (Hannah Georgas and David Francey) for my birthday. All were excellent choices.
16. I also had a birthday pedicure. I chose the least conservative colour, a sparkly blue-green. I have since lost a lot of time staring at my toes and smiling.
17. My right foot is a half-size bigger than my left foot.
18. The other names my parents had on the short list for me were Beverly and Andrea. I would have liked to be an Andrea.
19. Sometimes people tell me I am intimidating. I don't understand it at all.
20. I read Pride and Prejudice for the first time when I was 8. I came across it while browsing the adult section (as opposed to the kids' section. Hawkesbury's library did not have those kinds of materials!) of my public library. I had already read pretty much all the books that appealed to me in the kids' section.
21. I read The Grapes of Wrath for a book report when I was 12. I think it made some of my classmates hate me.
43 things (part one)
Yesterday was my birthday. I decided that it would be fun to write a post with 43 things that I had never written about on the blog. This proved to be quite a challenge, especially since I don't seem to have a lot of writing time these days (and it was my birthday, after all).
I've decided to post the list in stages, since I stil only have less than 20 and a post with 43 things would be way too long to be interesting (and I'm hoping this is interesting).
So here goes:
1. I am 43 years old (hence the 43 things).
2. I've decided that I want to lose 44lbs before my 44th birthday.
3. My most memorable birthday presents were my little black dog (who was a Mother's Day, birthday and Christmas present all rolled into one), my trip to BlogHer in '07 and the red bike with the banana seat that I got for my seventh birthday.
4. I wear much less make-up now than I did when I was fifteen.
6. I'm married but I have never celebrated my wedding anniversary. I have celebrated the anniversary of the beginning of our relationship. In March, it will be 20 years (we've been married for 14).
13. I can't curl my tongue, although both kids and my spouse can. This makes me feel oddly left out.
