another snap or two,
of the wondrous niece,
bemused, befuddled and perplexed
by Carrot, rat's nest denizen and world traveller.
What to make of this wide-eyed, wide-lipped creature?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Carrot confounds
from the rat's nest,
another snap or two,
of the wondrous niece,
bemused, befuddled and perplexed
by Carrot, rat's nest denizen and world traveller.
What to make of this wide-eyed, wide-lipped creature?
another snap or two,
of the wondrous niece,
bemused, befuddled and perplexed
by Carrot, rat's nest denizen and world traveller.
What to make of this wide-eyed, wide-lipped creature?
Spaz Attack!
this from KAS HQ
(the rat's nest, dontcha know):
In my waking dreams I am the ideal Auntie. My niece Kazzie and I ride our scooters through the woods, accompanied by my (our) faithful dog, the legendary King Arfur of the House of de la Haye. Kazzie is wearing a helmet and knee and elbow pads. Arfur carries sandwiches, juice boxes (Capri Sun) and art supplies in the pouches of his utility vest. I am full of fun, energy, pep and verve.
In reality, however, I have turned out to be a bit of a dud Auntie. I'm not sure I would hire me to be a free nanny some day.
In the week that I have known the Spaz, we have spent most of our time together NAPPING. I do not mean that she (rightfully, as a small baby) (and I mean small) (she is really little) naps as I flit about the rat's nest making myself useful. I mean that we both sleep sleep sleep. The spazzie life-giving energy makes for good snoozing karma.
I have one more week to recover before I go back in for the second round of the most evil chemeo yet. This time I know what to expect so it's almost worse. My neck will have barely recovered from the mega mainline before they slice into that nice chubby jugular (?) to reinsert the new one. Hopefully I'll get some energy back in the next few days and will liven up some. Then the Spaz and I will be able to hop and dance around a bit, which she seems to like when her Granny does it.
The KAS reports:
**Today during one of our naps Kazzie had a grip on one of my fingers. We were both snoozing when she suddenly had a spaz attack and squeezed my finger so hard that I woke up...
**We are all afraid that the Kaz may have inherited my nose. Both her parents have very nice noses. If, despite the best of parental intentions, you got my schnoz, Kaz, I'm really sorry, baby.
**Kazzie likes to sleep with her arms over her head, fists closed, in a victory gesture. I will try to get a pic as this is very cute.
(the rat's nest, dontcha know):
In my waking dreams I am the ideal Auntie. My niece Kazzie and I ride our scooters through the woods, accompanied by my (our) faithful dog, the legendary King Arfur of the House of de la Haye. Kazzie is wearing a helmet and knee and elbow pads. Arfur carries sandwiches, juice boxes (Capri Sun) and art supplies in the pouches of his utility vest. I am full of fun, energy, pep and verve.
In reality, however, I have turned out to be a bit of a dud Auntie. I'm not sure I would hire me to be a free nanny some day.
In the week that I have known the Spaz, we have spent most of our time together NAPPING. I do not mean that she (rightfully, as a small baby) (and I mean small) (she is really little) naps as I flit about the rat's nest making myself useful. I mean that we both sleep sleep sleep. The spazzie life-giving energy makes for good snoozing karma.
I have one more week to recover before I go back in for the second round of the most evil chemeo yet. This time I know what to expect so it's almost worse. My neck will have barely recovered from the mega mainline before they slice into that nice chubby jugular (?) to reinsert the new one. Hopefully I'll get some energy back in the next few days and will liven up some. Then the Spaz and I will be able to hop and dance around a bit, which she seems to like when her Granny does it.The KAS reports:
**Today during one of our naps Kazzie had a grip on one of my fingers. We were both snoozing when she suddenly had a spaz attack and squeezed my finger so hard that I woke up...
**We are all afraid that the Kaz may have inherited my nose. Both her parents have very nice noses. If, despite the best of parental intentions, you got my schnoz, Kaz, I'm really sorry, baby.**Kazzie likes to sleep with her arms over her head, fists closed, in a victory gesture. I will try to get a pic as this is very cute.
Friday, July 16, 2010
varias co
Just a quickie:
There are some cool teenagers out there. I don't remember how I ended up reading parts of a 16-year old's blog, but I followed from link to link and saw that there are some smart teens writing and making waves and influencing other young people and society. Being over a decade and a half past my own teenagerhood, I've just assumed my bright and interesting teenaged students are exceptions to the rule. But apparently there are a lot of kids out there who don't look up to Pariss Hilton (deliberately misspelled so that my post doesn't come up when people google her name).
Speaking of getting names wrong and being an adolescent, I remember I used to think that the best way to get back at a "popular" kid that said sth nasty would be to pretend you didn't know who they were. In my high school this was plausible since there were almost 4000 students in four grades. So anyway, I always thought I'd reply with, "Wait, who are you? How do you even know me?" And that would make them feel small and unimportant, the worst punishment for somebody who valued their popularity.
The weird thing is, I don't think anyone ever made fun of me. Unless I've blocked it out. So that really speaks to my old insecurities, doesn't it? I was so afraid of some confrontation that never even happened that I had my comeback ready to go. Actually in the 6th grade this dude Tom (big guy with freckles and red hair) said something obnoxious to somebody and I said "Tom, you're rude" and he said, "you're fat". Also in the second grade John "Liver Diapers" made fun of me because of my lisp (cured by Christmas thanks to the speech lady). (By the way, K and I only called the L brothers "liver diapers" between ourselves because they were mean.) Gee I'm on a roll. Maybe I'll think of lots of other examples of people making fun of me and have to come back and revise this post.
PS: A piece of me trivia: I still know that John Liver Diapers's birthday is January 26th. HOW THE HELL DO I REMEMBER THAT??? Probably because we were the only two January birthdays in Mrs Larson's 2nd grade. ALMOST 30 YEARS AGO.
Another good (private) insulting name K and I had for a nasty cow: Barfella aka Barfelle. She was older than us but skated at Centennial and was mean. She was also fat and ugly as mud, but apparently thought it was appropriate to tell other people they were.
Speaking of the speech lady, am I unkind if I say that people with speech impediments shouldn't be TV and radio presenters? Isn't the voice what it's all about? Shouldn't the network make them visit the speech lady for a few sessions? Also cops and riot police who are so out of shape they look like heart attacks waiting to happen. Isn't fitness a huge part of their job? As you know, in my current condition, I couldn't run a block without keeling over and I've heard my voice on tape and it's terrible. So I'm not making these points from a position of superiority, but I'm also not applying for either of these jobs.
Some things just puzzle me, that's all.
See how I started my post pointing out something positive and it spiraled into negativity? I think my recent depression is to blame. I like to believe I'm a nice person. Cutting out the 'roids is probably responsible. No worries, though, as the new chemo regimen calls for a full 60mg a day, so I'll soon be my old Miss Piggy-faced, good-humored self.
Random memory:
Late bus home from high school after staying late for yearbook, bus driver trying to figure out who my sister was, light dawning on his face: "Oh, I know her. She's the happy-go-lucky one."
I'm really not sure what it means to be happy go lucky, which is why I've never called anybody that, but ok, sure.
There are some cool teenagers out there. I don't remember how I ended up reading parts of a 16-year old's blog, but I followed from link to link and saw that there are some smart teens writing and making waves and influencing other young people and society. Being over a decade and a half past my own teenagerhood, I've just assumed my bright and interesting teenaged students are exceptions to the rule. But apparently there are a lot of kids out there who don't look up to Pariss Hilton (deliberately misspelled so that my post doesn't come up when people google her name).
Speaking of getting names wrong and being an adolescent, I remember I used to think that the best way to get back at a "popular" kid that said sth nasty would be to pretend you didn't know who they were. In my high school this was plausible since there were almost 4000 students in four grades. So anyway, I always thought I'd reply with, "Wait, who are you? How do you even know me?" And that would make them feel small and unimportant, the worst punishment for somebody who valued their popularity.
The weird thing is, I don't think anyone ever made fun of me. Unless I've blocked it out. So that really speaks to my old insecurities, doesn't it? I was so afraid of some confrontation that never even happened that I had my comeback ready to go. Actually in the 6th grade this dude Tom (big guy with freckles and red hair) said something obnoxious to somebody and I said "Tom, you're rude" and he said, "you're fat". Also in the second grade John "Liver Diapers" made fun of me because of my lisp (cured by Christmas thanks to the speech lady). (By the way, K and I only called the L brothers "liver diapers" between ourselves because they were mean.) Gee I'm on a roll. Maybe I'll think of lots of other examples of people making fun of me and have to come back and revise this post.
PS: A piece of me trivia: I still know that John Liver Diapers's birthday is January 26th. HOW THE HELL DO I REMEMBER THAT??? Probably because we were the only two January birthdays in Mrs Larson's 2nd grade. ALMOST 30 YEARS AGO.
Another good (private) insulting name K and I had for a nasty cow: Barfella aka Barfelle. She was older than us but skated at Centennial and was mean. She was also fat and ugly as mud, but apparently thought it was appropriate to tell other people they were.
Speaking of the speech lady, am I unkind if I say that people with speech impediments shouldn't be TV and radio presenters? Isn't the voice what it's all about? Shouldn't the network make them visit the speech lady for a few sessions? Also cops and riot police who are so out of shape they look like heart attacks waiting to happen. Isn't fitness a huge part of their job? As you know, in my current condition, I couldn't run a block without keeling over and I've heard my voice on tape and it's terrible. So I'm not making these points from a position of superiority, but I'm also not applying for either of these jobs.
Some things just puzzle me, that's all.
See how I started my post pointing out something positive and it spiraled into negativity? I think my recent depression is to blame. I like to believe I'm a nice person. Cutting out the 'roids is probably responsible. No worries, though, as the new chemo regimen calls for a full 60mg a day, so I'll soon be my old Miss Piggy-faced, good-humored self.
Random memory:
Late bus home from high school after staying late for yearbook, bus driver trying to figure out who my sister was, light dawning on his face: "Oh, I know her. She's the happy-go-lucky one."
I'm really not sure what it means to be happy go lucky, which is why I've never called anybody that, but ok, sure.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
a scrap of poetry from the rat's nest to the universe
To my adopted country
I apologize for
(almost)
every time that I
have called you a
third-world
shithole
and the thought of leaving you
makes me sick
to my stomach.
Even the rat's nest
is starting
to look good
and that's...
saying something.
ADVANTAGE OF SPENDING THE NEXT 6 MOS IN THE US:
potentially getting rid of cancer
DISADVANTAGES OF SPENDING THE NEXT 6 MOS IN THE US:
missing the birth of the Spaz
I repeat, missing the emergence of the Spaz
being away from my flowers
missing out on organic veg all summer
no sun* or swimming for another year
being away from my stuff
etc etc etc
In the spirit of my niece, I got a really spazzie dress for Eva's wedding.
Do you think we'll beat Argentina tonight?
Just kidding.
I hereby promise that my next post will be positive.
*No offense but our sun is special.
To my adopted country
I apologize for
(almost)
every time that I
have called you a
third-world
shithole
and the thought of leaving you
makes me sick
to my stomach.
Even the rat's nest
is starting
to look good
and that's...
saying something.
ADVANTAGE OF SPENDING THE NEXT 6 MOS IN THE US:
potentially getting rid of cancer
DISADVANTAGES OF SPENDING THE NEXT 6 MOS IN THE US:
missing the birth of the Spaz
I repeat, missing the emergence of the Spaz
being away from my flowers
missing out on organic veg all summer
no sun* or swimming for another year
being away from my stuff
etc etc etc
In the spirit of my niece, I got a really spazzie dress for Eva's wedding.
Do you think we'll beat Argentina tonight?
Just kidding.
I hereby promise that my next post will be positive.
*No offense but our sun is special.
Friday, June 18, 2010
WANNA SPANK YOU
Actually, it was WANNA SPANK YOU.
In silver sequins.
On a black t-shirt.
Worn by an over-the-hill priest's wife.
With black skirt, pantyhose and shoes.
And a somber expression on her face.
And a similar somber expression on her husband,
the priest's, face.
Ah, the papadia, role model of society,
Spanking people.
It just won't do.
By the way, it costs over a million bucks to get a stem cell transplant at Stanford if you have to pay cash. If you were wondering.
In silver sequins.
On a black t-shirt.
Worn by an over-the-hill priest's wife.
With black skirt, pantyhose and shoes.
And a somber expression on her face.
And a similar somber expression on her husband,
the priest's, face.
Ah, the papadia, role model of society,
Spanking people.
It just won't do.
By the way, it costs over a million bucks to get a stem cell transplant at Stanford if you have to pay cash. If you were wondering.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
OMG Can't believe I forgot to write about this!!!
Okay I know it's really late and Jiora is picking me up at 11 am and then I'm having company for lunch. BUT:
I have to make a huge announcement. Huge in the context of this blog, very minor to utterly insignificant in almost any other context. [Dude, got the mozzie!*] So the other night I confronted Vromyar II about the stogies!!!!!!!!!!!!
Allow me to set the scene: The entire rat's nest smelled like el cheapo cigars from his nasty, filthy habit, which I have mentioned in previous posts. The smell was so nasty that the membrane on the inside of my nostrils was irritated! This caused a headache. I couldn't close the balcony doors because it was too hot. I was psychologically f-ed up due to general sickiness and an annoying email from doc. I started coughing/wheezing uncontrollably and couldn't sleep although it was late (2am?). I finally fell asleep only to be reawakened by renewed stink.
SO I DONNED the Lewis R French sweatshirt (for the sake of decency, not warmth, since as I mentioned it was hot) and the flip-flops and flip-flopped downstairs to his filthy door and knocked for sth like 3 minutes. Finally he came to the door and I told him off. To be honest it was somewhat anti-climactic because he was kind of agreeable and apologized and said he'd had no idea and he'd try to cut down. But still, it felt good to finally face off with the dude. Needless to say, when he opened the door an absolute cloud of reek billowed out.
I can't say that he has reformed completely but it does seem that maybe he's cut down some. Vamos a.
*see asterisk of previous post
I have to make a huge announcement. Huge in the context of this blog, very minor to utterly insignificant in almost any other context. [Dude, got the mozzie!*] So the other night I confronted Vromyar II about the stogies!!!!!!!!!!!!
Allow me to set the scene: The entire rat's nest smelled like el cheapo cigars from his nasty, filthy habit, which I have mentioned in previous posts. The smell was so nasty that the membrane on the inside of my nostrils was irritated! This caused a headache. I couldn't close the balcony doors because it was too hot. I was psychologically f-ed up due to general sickiness and an annoying email from doc. I started coughing/wheezing uncontrollably and couldn't sleep although it was late (2am?). I finally fell asleep only to be reawakened by renewed stink.
SO I DONNED the Lewis R French sweatshirt (for the sake of decency, not warmth, since as I mentioned it was hot) and the flip-flops and flip-flopped downstairs to his filthy door and knocked for sth like 3 minutes. Finally he came to the door and I told him off. To be honest it was somewhat anti-climactic because he was kind of agreeable and apologized and said he'd had no idea and he'd try to cut down. But still, it felt good to finally face off with the dude. Needless to say, when he opened the door an absolute cloud of reek billowed out.
I can't say that he has reformed completely but it does seem that maybe he's cut down some. Vamos a.
*see asterisk of previous post
bad blood
I think I've mentioned before that the "look on the bright side" sickies piss me off, like that woman on some forum who was all excited that chemo made her fingernails strong and she could get a decent manicure for the first time in her life. I simply cannot picture myself, in this lifetime or the next, putting a goofy smile on my face and saying, well, they're pumping me full of toxic waste but, hey, don't my nails look fab?
HOWEVER, if I were the person who sees the glass as half full, I would put a goofy smile on my face at 3:05 am and say, kinda cool that there's been a mozzie buzzing around and landing on me for the past hour (tried to kill it but can't*), but which refuses to sting me. My blood is too f-ed up even for this little bugger to suck.
Other Australian vocabulary picked up from the most excellent sodes, McLeod's Daughters:
ute
merc
leftos
(in no particular order)
Remember, you have to use a word something like 14 times to make it your own so start practicing. There's that mozzie again!
* I may have just alienated my only faithful reader. Sorry Rach.**
** Just kidding to other friends who read this blog religiously. (Yeah right.)
HOWEVER, if I were the person who sees the glass as half full, I would put a goofy smile on my face at 3:05 am and say, kinda cool that there's been a mozzie buzzing around and landing on me for the past hour (tried to kill it but can't*), but which refuses to sting me. My blood is too f-ed up even for this little bugger to suck.Other Australian vocabulary picked up from the most excellent sodes, McLeod's Daughters:
ute
merc
leftos
(in no particular order)
Remember, you have to use a word something like 14 times to make it your own so start practicing. There's that mozzie again!
* I may have just alienated my only faithful reader. Sorry Rach.**
** Just kidding to other friends who read this blog religiously. (Yeah right.)
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