first of all, from the rat's nest,
A comment:
You would not believe how many people misspell "desertification", using a double "s". Therefore it occurred to me to win the lottery and open a sweetshop called dessertification. It could have a drought theme...
also,
A letter:
To the gods of the earth, sky and sea,
Wherever ye be,
Do you really think it's fair
For a person to have no hair
on her head
Yet have to wax her mustache and shave her legs?
I invite you to descend from the heavens and
bite me.
Love,
Humpty D. (emphasis on the Dumpty)
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
As promised
On the perch,
(identities hidden to protect the innocent)
the toothsome fellow was actually allowed to approach the world's weirdest, most psychologically-impaired four-footed friend, Sir Louris.
(identities hidden to protect the innocent)Saturday, April 24, 2010
In search of substance
From the ratoncito's nest
My new high-speed internet is being temperamental. Hopefully, however, the green machine will operate in perfect harmony with the gonnegtion when it arrives with Pierre on Tuesday.
I am still processing my impressions of the visit of the life-giving visitors, on the eve of my next visitor, who is not really a guest because it's my bro and it's different. I'll say this: I sure knew how to pick 'em. I had high standards for my friends in school. I think it freaked them out a bit sometimes. But I just spent 9 days with two other women in very close quarters and loved every minute of it. We talked about everything under the sun: families, health, friends, politics, food, sodes. We didn't actually DO very much, since I couldn't, but it ended up not mattering. It was a weird combination of reconnecting and yet feeling like no time had passed since I'd seen them. Anyway, it felt great. I won't overanalyze.
I say what I want here, so I'll say this because it's in my mind. If that was goodbye, it was a good one. It'll be something they can remember and feel good about and look back on. I think.
I feel so lucky that the close relationships in my life are real, substantial, with people I can talk to honestly. I don't think many people have that, maybe they don't want it. I have said before that I'm not sure whether it's because I'm sick, or old, or it's my "borderline OCD" that can't deal with too many layers or directions in anything, much less relationships, but I have to say, there's very little bullshit in my life right now, very few bullshit interactions. I can't take them, and I don't have them, and that's huge. I am, or at least, used to be, so good at things like diplomacy (nice word). I could dish out the fake charm, pile on the malarkey with the best of them. A very good liar too, when I wanted to be. Small talk, no problem. I'm glad that I don't really (have to) do much of all of that any more. Of course, I don't go out much these days. I can't remember the last cocktail party I went to. So I guess if you're not social, you don't have to be sociable. Maybe some day I'll have to readjust.
On a different note: A tribute to my friends from the Land of Oz: I have a full-sized map of your country/continent on my hip. In a brilliant shade of eggplant. I salute you daily.
Back to the drawing board with your friendly neighborhood tumor. As soon as I can reduce the 'roids a bit more I'm having another surgery to biopsy the mass. It has been behaving so strangely that they want to see if it has changed at all since the initial diagnosis. Surgeon is smart and serious (same as last time). And, best of all, no visible scar. Because of the previous scar tissue, he needs to go in from the side this time. More complicated, more dangerous but hey, no visible scar.
Dappy should be arriving in New Jersey about now.
My new high-speed internet is being temperamental. Hopefully, however, the green machine will operate in perfect harmony with the gonnegtion when it arrives with Pierre on Tuesday.
I am still processing my impressions of the visit of the life-giving visitors, on the eve of my next visitor, who is not really a guest because it's my bro and it's different. I'll say this: I sure knew how to pick 'em. I had high standards for my friends in school. I think it freaked them out a bit sometimes. But I just spent 9 days with two other women in very close quarters and loved every minute of it. We talked about everything under the sun: families, health, friends, politics, food, sodes. We didn't actually DO very much, since I couldn't, but it ended up not mattering. It was a weird combination of reconnecting and yet feeling like no time had passed since I'd seen them. Anyway, it felt great. I won't overanalyze.
I say what I want here, so I'll say this because it's in my mind. If that was goodbye, it was a good one. It'll be something they can remember and feel good about and look back on. I think.
I feel so lucky that the close relationships in my life are real, substantial, with people I can talk to honestly. I don't think many people have that, maybe they don't want it. I have said before that I'm not sure whether it's because I'm sick, or old, or it's my "borderline OCD" that can't deal with too many layers or directions in anything, much less relationships, but I have to say, there's very little bullshit in my life right now, very few bullshit interactions. I can't take them, and I don't have them, and that's huge. I am, or at least, used to be, so good at things like diplomacy (nice word). I could dish out the fake charm, pile on the malarkey with the best of them. A very good liar too, when I wanted to be. Small talk, no problem. I'm glad that I don't really (have to) do much of all of that any more. Of course, I don't go out much these days. I can't remember the last cocktail party I went to. So I guess if you're not social, you don't have to be sociable. Maybe some day I'll have to readjust.
On a different note: A tribute to my friends from the Land of Oz: I have a full-sized map of your country/continent on my hip. In a brilliant shade of eggplant. I salute you daily.
Back to the drawing board with your friendly neighborhood tumor. As soon as I can reduce the 'roids a bit more I'm having another surgery to biopsy the mass. It has been behaving so strangely that they want to see if it has changed at all since the initial diagnosis. Surgeon is smart and serious (same as last time). And, best of all, no visible scar. Because of the previous scar tissue, he needs to go in from the side this time. More complicated, more dangerous but hey, no visible scar.
Dappy should be arriving in New Jersey about now.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Humpty Dumpty stood on a (6-foot) wall
(near the perch)
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. And landed flat on her face. AGAIN.
I was trying to uproot a plant. Abaroriza (no idea what it's called in English but it's geraniumy and repels mosquitoes). Pulled hard enough to lose my balance and the fig tree branch I reached for slipped through my chemo-numbed fingers. Typical for the 100-year-old lady I have become. Aye yae yae.
The toothsome fellow is amazing-- he eats everything! Seasoned for adults! Curried vegetable pie with feta! And, of course, staying at the rat's nest, EGGS. That's not really a surprise for a youngun, I know, but still.
The life-giving visitors are preparing to go. I will talk more about them when they are gone... tee hee hee.
New biopsy planned. Good thing but I have spent the last two and a half years slathering scar gel on the last spot. Oh well. Scar chest sera yo. Alive with scars is better than not.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. And landed flat on her face. AGAIN.
I was trying to uproot a plant. Abaroriza (no idea what it's called in English but it's geraniumy and repels mosquitoes). Pulled hard enough to lose my balance and the fig tree branch I reached for slipped through my chemo-numbed fingers. Typical for the 100-year-old lady I have become. Aye yae yae.
The toothsome fellow is amazing-- he eats everything! Seasoned for adults! Curried vegetable pie with feta! And, of course, staying at the rat's nest, EGGS. That's not really a surprise for a youngun, I know, but still.
The life-giving visitors are preparing to go. I will talk more about them when they are gone... tee hee hee.
New biopsy planned. Good thing but I have spent the last two and a half years slathering scar gel on the last spot. Oh well. Scar chest sera yo. Alive with scars is better than not.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Hitting the beach with the girls
Briefly abandoned the perch for an hour at the beach.
E and I decide to relax.
Then a dog came by to check us out. Slobbered a bit and moved on. Good thing I am well-versed in Victoria Stillwell's commands because I had to put some of them to use. EH EH, shaggy wet sandy pooch. (According to work, we're not putting commas between adjectives any more. Things changed from last series of books to this, apparently. Must keep abreast.)
Warning to fellow bloggers: If a friend tells you she reads your blog entries and keeps up with your life and all the important things you say in your blog, some of which may be significant life lessons and information about your cats, and things they hunt, and stuff you say about buying underwear and not wearing it before you wash it and all the other earth-shattering things you chronicle, describe or outline, it may be a complete and utter lie. Trap her by asking specific topic-based questions. Then mock her with your other friend who actually does read your blog.
E and I decide to relax.
R decides to skip stones and actually almost hit us with some huge rocks I mean pebbles.
E did not manage to capture any of the amazing multiple skips on video despite repeated attempts. Faulty camera work? No decent multiple skips? We'll never divulge all the secrets of this evening.
Then a dog came by to check us out. Slobbered a bit and moved on. Good thing I am well-versed in Victoria Stillwell's commands because I had to put some of them to use. EH EH, shaggy wet sandy pooch. (According to work, we're not putting commas between adjectives any more. Things changed from last series of books to this, apparently. Must keep abreast.)
Warning to fellow bloggers: If a friend tells you she reads your blog entries and keeps up with your life and all the important things you say in your blog, some of which may be significant life lessons and information about your cats, and things they hunt, and stuff you say about buying underwear and not wearing it before you wash it and all the other earth-shattering things you chronicle, describe or outline, it may be a complete and utter lie. Trap her by asking specific topic-based questions. Then mock her with your other friend who actually does read your blog.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
A toothsome fellow
The rat's nest...
is bursting at the seams with life-giving energy. Bed, sofas and pod are occupied. Reminiscing abounds. Last night we dragged out the yearbook and perused senior portraits.
So anyway one of the visitors is young "J", an eleven-month-old gentleman with an exceptional disposition. He's the occupant of the pod. He is capable of giving his Mom just a bit of a hard time in the sleeping department, but wakes up VERY cute, with hooded gaze and then a big smile. Today he was fascinated with the colors in Mer's quilt. He is also the mega-star of the trip video. I will add a photo soon (from behind to protect the innocent).
I'm bushed so will elaborate in a later post because it's off to the perch for the weekend! A bit of fresh air, maybe some gardening. Thought we'd be getting waited on by the old timers, but apparently they've been eating cookies and omelettes, so we're going to take our left-over spinach pie and chicken pot pie (yes, I made it again) to subsist.
CT update is that cancerous mass is bigger. For the mentally challenged among us: this is a bad thing. Waiting to hear what the next step will be. Dr D said that maybe it's so thick and dense that the chemeo is having trouble eating away at it. (My translation.) Interesting idea.
Why oh why did I have seconds of pot pie at ten o'clock when I was already stuffed? It wasn't hot so it wasn't even that good.
I leave you with this:
THE LORD OF THE TOFU
is bursting at the seams with life-giving energy. Bed, sofas and pod are occupied. Reminiscing abounds. Last night we dragged out the yearbook and perused senior portraits.
So anyway one of the visitors is young "J", an eleven-month-old gentleman with an exceptional disposition. He's the occupant of the pod. He is capable of giving his Mom just a bit of a hard time in the sleeping department, but wakes up VERY cute, with hooded gaze and then a big smile. Today he was fascinated with the colors in Mer's quilt. He is also the mega-star of the trip video. I will add a photo soon (from behind to protect the innocent).
I'm bushed so will elaborate in a later post because it's off to the perch for the weekend! A bit of fresh air, maybe some gardening. Thought we'd be getting waited on by the old timers, but apparently they've been eating cookies and omelettes, so we're going to take our left-over spinach pie and chicken pot pie (yes, I made it again) to subsist.
CT update is that cancerous mass is bigger. For the mentally challenged among us: this is a bad thing. Waiting to hear what the next step will be. Dr D said that maybe it's so thick and dense that the chemeo is having trouble eating away at it. (My translation.) Interesting idea.
Why oh why did I have seconds of pot pie at ten o'clock when I was already stuffed? It wasn't hot so it wasn't even that good.
I leave you with this:
THE LORD OF THE TOFU
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Something you should buy at the store
the rat's nest emphasises:
Do not be a snob on this subject. Do not waste bio eggs, bio flour and bio milk on this recipe. Just buy the sweet Easter bread at the sweet shop. Don't try making it. It is a pain in your ass and you'll end up turning it into sweet-bread shortbread (it wishes) which has no taste and just wastes electricity to make. Also, why is there so much fake yeast around? Who ever heard of fake yeast? That looks like white powder or is made out of like 4 ingredients, even if it is from the bio store?
See? I'm fair. Not everything has to come off the farm.
Do not be a snob on this subject. Do not waste bio eggs, bio flour and bio milk on this recipe. Just buy the sweet Easter bread at the sweet shop. Don't try making it. It is a pain in your ass and you'll end up turning it into sweet-bread shortbread (it wishes) which has no taste and just wastes electricity to make. Also, why is there so much fake yeast around? Who ever heard of fake yeast? That looks like white powder or is made out of like 4 ingredients, even if it is from the bio store?
See? I'm fair. Not everything has to come off the farm.
Eggs, myths, friends and chemeo
Don't read this post if you want to stay awake.
Here are my random thoughts for the day.
I am a sort-of eggspert. Why do I claim to be an eggspert? Not because I know how to cook every type of egg, but because I eat eggs almost every morning. (Wetted rye rusks, two eggs over-easy, tomatoes and mushrooms) You're thinking: If the cancer doesn't kill you, the cholesterol and calories will. (Reminder in my defense: HUGE amounts of steroids make you hungry.) I think eggs should be on the list of things that you should get from the source, not the super, like olive oil, honey, lemons and so on. You know: the more spherical the yolk when you break it, the fresher the egg. So last week I had some eggs from the country where the yolk was a perfect globe. No joke. Yummety yum. The other thing is that eggs from the super have really thin shells (something to do with what they feed the chickens), whereas eggs from the village have really hard shells that you have to bang against the side of the pan with lots of power just to get a small crack. Have I said enough about eggs? Moving on.
The Myth Busters annoy the hell out of me. Is that unfair and rude? Is it because I'm not smart enough to like sciencey shows? It's just that I'm prepared to believe that these things are myths without having that goofy bearded guy jump through all those hoops to prove it. I'm so disappointed when I turn on skai tsannel to see one of my nature/animal shows or makeover shows and it's the Myth Busters (or, worse, worst of all, Takaheshi's f-ing Castle). I know this is an unpopular opinion. I am willing to stand alone on this, though.
Eva and Vlad stopped by on their way back to Kefalonia from Evia just for a flying visit. Thank goodness for life-giving friends!!! Babis the dog stayed in the car, which I think was wise because...
I had chemeo today, nasty MTX, so I am a bit...zavlakomeni...how to say in Engliss...stupefied, out of it. I'm just glad I didn't get rejected again.
Here are my random thoughts for the day.
I am a sort-of eggspert. Why do I claim to be an eggspert? Not because I know how to cook every type of egg, but because I eat eggs almost every morning. (Wetted rye rusks, two eggs over-easy, tomatoes and mushrooms) You're thinking: If the cancer doesn't kill you, the cholesterol and calories will. (Reminder in my defense: HUGE amounts of steroids make you hungry.) I think eggs should be on the list of things that you should get from the source, not the super, like olive oil, honey, lemons and so on. You know: the more spherical the yolk when you break it, the fresher the egg. So last week I had some eggs from the country where the yolk was a perfect globe. No joke. Yummety yum. The other thing is that eggs from the super have really thin shells (something to do with what they feed the chickens), whereas eggs from the village have really hard shells that you have to bang against the side of the pan with lots of power just to get a small crack. Have I said enough about eggs? Moving on.
The Myth Busters annoy the hell out of me. Is that unfair and rude? Is it because I'm not smart enough to like sciencey shows? It's just that I'm prepared to believe that these things are myths without having that goofy bearded guy jump through all those hoops to prove it. I'm so disappointed when I turn on skai tsannel to see one of my nature/animal shows or makeover shows and it's the Myth Busters (or, worse, worst of all, Takaheshi's f-ing Castle). I know this is an unpopular opinion. I am willing to stand alone on this, though.
Eva and Vlad stopped by on their way back to Kefalonia from Evia just for a flying visit. Thank goodness for life-giving friends!!! Babis the dog stayed in the car, which I think was wise because...
I had chemeo today, nasty MTX, so I am a bit...zavlakomeni...how to say in Engliss...stupefied, out of it. I'm just glad I didn't get rejected again.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
BAT HUNT
Activity on the perch...
reaches fever pitch.
Yes, there was a bat on the perch. Until Jameser and/or Lou took it down. Sorry, bat. I really am sorry that the boys got the poor creature, but can you imagine if the rents had found a live bat flying around the house this morning?
QUICKDATES from the rat's nest:
Pre-approved for chemeo tomorrow.
New laptop ordered. It's GREEN!!!
Stitches coming out tomorrow.
Made chicken pot pie for the 5th time in a month tonight.
Life-giving guests will be here this time next week.
reaches fever pitch.Yes, there was a bat on the perch. Until Jameser and/or Lou took it down. Sorry, bat. I really am sorry that the boys got the poor creature, but can you imagine if the rents had found a live bat flying around the house this morning?
QUICKDATES from the rat's nest:
Pre-approved for chemeo tomorrow.
New laptop ordered. It's GREEN!!!
Stitches coming out tomorrow.
Made chicken pot pie for the 5th time in a month tonight.
Life-giving guests will be here this time next week.
Friday, April 2, 2010
THIS HAPPENED ON MONDAY
in the rat's nest, the following refrain echoes:
Lappie รจ morto.
Not the original lappie, but anyway, my computadora is dead dead dead, like a squashed cuca on the ground floor outside the elevator by the sewage hell mouth that I may just may have mentioned in this blog before.
So actually I'm in the priests' hole catching you up on a crazy week beginning with:
FLYING LESSONS
I tried to fly and landed on my face. I will say that again. I landed on my face on the pavement. And had to go to the emergency room for stitches and a tetanus shot. The edge of my frameless glasses, the edge of the crystal, dug a deep gash into my eyebrow. Well, a 4-stitch gash. Now I'm going to be like Notis from Fame Story, or those other people that shave a line through their eyebrow to look cool, but four years after the trend!!! On top of everything else, man. Then in the ER, the resident was surrounded by about eight whippersnappers and called out, okay, who wants to try some stitches? I said, Augh, please somebody with a steady hand, I have enough problems including low platelets! Anyway, there were no volunteers so she did it herself. Pali kala. I am an f-ing freak show. I am a walking talking freak show. This is not even funny. The humor left this situation a long time ago and is now vacationing in the Bahamas.
REJECTION
Got rejected from chemeo again on Wednesday. Screwed up platelets. Set back, way back. Also, neither of the sibs is compatible for stem cells. I am at the mercy of a kind stranger. Will see if that kind stranger exists. Apparently if there is a kind stranger, and this person saves your life, and you live for another year and a half, and they want to, you can get their address and send them a letter to thank them.
OTRAS CO
Can't think of much else, actually. I should probably say that my mother is a hero of social medicine of sorts. She accomplishes stuff with bureaucrats that you would not believe. It's like the one nice and competent person in these offices hones in on her appearance of damsel (but the old lady version, not exactly demoiselle) in distress and rewards her persistence with results. So here I am saying, just go home, there's no way you're going to figure this out today, and she comes home with two signatures, an appointment and a success story about telling off a line budger. Unbelievable. She gave a gardenia to one of her favorite doctors in the fund offices, a plant we had planned to give my onco to thank her for being nice when I called her late at night from the ER to see if I could get a tetanus shot, but she wasn't there so Mom was carting it around on her errands.
Lappie รจ morto.
Not the original lappie, but anyway, my computadora is dead dead dead, like a squashed cuca on the ground floor outside the elevator by the sewage hell mouth that I may just may have mentioned in this blog before.
So actually I'm in the priests' hole catching you up on a crazy week beginning with:
FLYING LESSONS
I tried to fly and landed on my face. I will say that again. I landed on my face on the pavement. And had to go to the emergency room for stitches and a tetanus shot. The edge of my frameless glasses, the edge of the crystal, dug a deep gash into my eyebrow. Well, a 4-stitch gash. Now I'm going to be like Notis from Fame Story, or those other people that shave a line through their eyebrow to look cool, but four years after the trend!!! On top of everything else, man. Then in the ER, the resident was surrounded by about eight whippersnappers and called out, okay, who wants to try some stitches? I said, Augh, please somebody with a steady hand, I have enough problems including low platelets! Anyway, there were no volunteers so she did it herself. Pali kala. I am an f-ing freak show. I am a walking talking freak show. This is not even funny. The humor left this situation a long time ago and is now vacationing in the Bahamas.
REJECTION
Got rejected from chemeo again on Wednesday. Screwed up platelets. Set back, way back. Also, neither of the sibs is compatible for stem cells. I am at the mercy of a kind stranger. Will see if that kind stranger exists. Apparently if there is a kind stranger, and this person saves your life, and you live for another year and a half, and they want to, you can get their address and send them a letter to thank them.
OTRAS CO
Can't think of much else, actually. I should probably say that my mother is a hero of social medicine of sorts. She accomplishes stuff with bureaucrats that you would not believe. It's like the one nice and competent person in these offices hones in on her appearance of damsel (but the old lady version, not exactly demoiselle) in distress and rewards her persistence with results. So here I am saying, just go home, there's no way you're going to figure this out today, and she comes home with two signatures, an appointment and a success story about telling off a line budger. Unbelievable. She gave a gardenia to one of her favorite doctors in the fund offices, a plant we had planned to give my onco to thank her for being nice when I called her late at night from the ER to see if I could get a tetanus shot, but she wasn't there so Mom was carting it around on her errands.
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