Stories, Books and Life--December 2008

December 2008--I dusted off my favorite holiday read for December--The Autobiography of Santa Claus by Jeff Guinn. Every December, one chapter a day until Christmas. I love it. I missed reading holiday stories this year with the littles in daycare. No Auntie Claus, no bear sleeping through Christmas, no pop-up Night Before Christmas story. Josh spent a couple of months with us in 2003 and we read Auntie Claus EVERY SINGLE NIGHT from Thanksgiving until December. He loved hearing about the BB&G list (Bad Boys and Girls). So I took Auntie Claus and the pop-up Night Before Christmas along for our Christmas Eve story at the farm. My sister always reads the story, complete with voices and facial animation. It's fun, everyone laughs. the bonus this year was getting to share our traditions with her exchange student sons. Kevin is still wading through The Shack and reading on his iTouch.

Peace to You

We've just come in from Mass at St. Tom's. The music was incredible, Father Dan's homily was poignant and it was that strange mix of being a wonderfully peaceful place in the midst of great joy and celebration.

Joshua made it through the first part before falling asleep. I loved watching him take in everything--the musicians, the procession, friends stopping by to talk a minute. Everyone has gone to bed. Kevin is feeling a little better, thanks to some cold medicine and several naps yesterday. I am enjoying the quiet in the house and the chance to reflect on the many blessings we have in our lives on this amazing night when we celebrate the birth of our Lord.

Joy to the World!

Christmas Eve

Josh is excited to be staying at his great-grandfather's house for Christmas Eve. We spent the day at my sister's farm--eating, playing games, opening gifts. Josh has already opened and put on his Christmas Eve pajamas (Family tradition--our girls always got new pajamas on Christmas Eve. I tried to discontinue the practice once they were all adults and Kate complained to one of our priests--who promptly gave me teasing grief about ditching a family tradition.)

We'll be leaving in about 30 minutes for Midnight Mass over in West Lafayette. Josh says he's looking forward to it. Thankfully the temperature has warmed enough to melt the worst of the road ice, although it has rained hard today and there are a lot of flooded, slushy roads now.

Mikkel and Mauricio were a fun addition to our holiday at the farm. I think they're enjoying their US holiday. They and my sister and brother-in-law are leaving tomorrow afternoon to visit our father and Mary in Arizona. The boys are looking forward to the warmth!

We ended our evening at the farm with a Christmas Eve story. We started doing this a few years ago. This year I took Josh's old favorite, Auntie Claus and a pop-up version of The Night Before Christmas which we have had since Josh's mom was a little girl. My sister is our reader and she personalizes each character in the story. It's fun to hear her and I love watching Joshua as he listens to the story.

We leave soon for Mass. Then back here for bed and Christmas morning gifts. We'll meet up with Kate and James in Indianapolis on Friday when their plane arrives from Pennsylvania. Our days have been full and Kevin feels rotten. I think it's a cold but he slept much of today at the farm and is dozing now, although he says he wants to go to Mass. Our nomadic holiday may be too tiring for him this year.

Home (Away)

Indiana for the holiday.

We visited with Hannah, Andj and Evan. Took Christmas presents over and left them elbow deep in activities at the kitchen table. It felt good to sit around and talk with them while we worked; a flashback of what we miss from the past. They're doing well, though, in school and at home. Sometimes getting what you've wished and prayed for is a bittersweet thing! You know, you want them to do well--great, actually--but you would kind of, sort of, just a little bit, like to be essential?

So, after we were Pixo-ed out with the kids, we met Mike and Scheryl at Arni's for pizza and Juniors. You just can't duplicate those things somewhere else--Arni's Juniors or friendships you measure in decades.

Kevin worked throughout the day via phone, text and email. The wonders of file sharing technology. He's kicked back now finishing the day's tasks on his computer. He's not feeling great. Probably a cold settling in but it always tugs at my worry strings when something changes with him.

Had dinner at the farm with my sister and her family. Conversation was dominated by the boys earnestly telling us how much they want an earring and a tattoo. And why neither will be happening. My sister explained it best by telling them she didn't get them with tattoos or earrings so she's not returning them with tattoos or earrings. The boys are on loan from their families in Denmark and Brazil through a student exchange program for this school year. They have quickly found a place in all of our hearts and we're enjoying them tremendously.

We're staying at my father and Mary's house again. They're in Arizona for the winter and we really appreciate them letting us stay here when we're in Indiana.

It's nice to be settled in for the night without driving the distance to a hotel. The drive to the farm from Lafayette today was treacherous with cars in ditches along the way. It's really slick tonight with a cold rain now falling on the layer of ice and sleet from earlier. Now that we're safely inside (after Kevin took a spill down the front steps of the house--the ice coupled with the continued problems from chemotherapy damage makes it downright dangerous for him), the ice buildup on the trees and bushes is actually sparkling and pretty.

There's a pecan pie baking in the oven and the house is smelling wonderful. The tree looks pretty next to the fireplace here, presents piled below. I've set the dining room table with the holiday china which I carted over from Ohio and the cookies I baked earlier have left a nice cinnamony smell.

It's not our home, but it's home for this holiday and it's going to work out ok.

Nomads

We are in Indiana about 12 hours early. We had planned to come over tomorrow morning; Kevin took a vacation day for tomorrow (which only means he'll work long distance via Blackberry rather than in the plant.) Then the weather forecast bumped up an incoming ice storm so we decided to head out early this evening. Kevin was at work today and missed the ugly chaos of last minute gift wrapping, food packing and list making to be certain nothing was missed in our hurried departure.

Traffic was terrible getting through Cincinnati and we stopped to eat a taco with Josh and his mom around Indy so it was a long trip over. We were gran-guilted into that stop by Joshua complaining that he "never gets to see us anymore." We were just over here 9 days ago! I don't believe for a minute that he missed us as much as he wanted a taco. And he's at that can't-ever-fill-the-boy age where a Second Supper appeals to him.

Kevin was ready to get out of the car anyway, though, by the time we hit the edges of Indianapolis. Long driving distances aggravate the chemotherapy neuropathy in his feet and hands. And it was a fun visit with Josh and his mom, who good naturedly took some teasing. Somehow we failed to communicate to her that we were actually going in to the restaurant to eat--she thought it was just a parking lot stop to say 'hello' as we passed through the area. So we had one little boy happily enjoying his quesadilla and a slightly embarrassed mom covered in the battle fatigue of a day spent shopping, cleaning, cooking and chasing after the aforementioned boy.

Kevin stepped in it in a big way by assuring her that it was ok to look like a mess at Taco Bell. I think she was hoping for some reassurances that she looked better than she imagined, not affirmation of her suspicions.

We were thankful my brother-in-law had turned on the water and turned up the heat at my father and Mary's home where we are staying. It was nice to come into a warm house after that drive!

Tomorrow we want to visit with one of the daycare families along with some adult friends we seldom get to visit with on our trips here. Kev's post-chemotherapy body still works against him if meals and rest aren't watched so we'll have to factor that into our days. Supper tomorrow night is at the farm; I'm glad they've invited us out so I don't have to worry about finding something suitable for Kev to eat.

Our Christmas celebrating will be different this year. Kelly and Tejas are not coming down from Michigan. They both travel for work and another trip just seemed overwhelming, I think. With the ice coming in I am glad they will not be driving. Tejas has a large extended family living in Michigan so they will have plenty of family around. Kate and James are already in Pennsylvanis for their visit with his father and step-mother. Kevin and I, along with Paige, Rob and Joshua, will not be in our own home on Christmas morning for the first time but we're very thankful we are able to borrow my father and Mary's home for our celebration. We'll be out at the farm for Christmas Eve day and evening, over to Lafayette for Midnight Mass then back here at my father and Mary's home for Christmas Day.

So we have some changes to work through this year. I brought some of the 'stuff' of Christmas with us though. Kevin was a little surprised in our frenzy of packing this afternoon when I instructed him to wrap our 4 foot tall Christmas tree, completely decorated, in a sheet and "shove it in the truck." He says it felt a little like The Grinch stealing CindyLou Who's Christmas tree but it looks nice now next to the fireplace here.

I think it's going to be fine to be nomads this Christmas. Josh asked me about being in Grandpa Leonard and Grandma Mary's house instead of ours. I pointed out to him that Mary and Joseph weren't in their home either for that first Christmas morning.

Turns out he was more interested in finding out the sleeping and eating arrangements than he was in my analogy to the nativity.

Oh well, his questioning brought me around to thinking this is ok, our nomadic holiday. Sometimes home is just where you are.

Job Hunting

I have a job interview tomorrow. My first one. Ever.

Kevin points out that in 25 years of daycare I had many interviews with prospective clients, which is true. Although it says something about my mindset that I always thought I was interviewing them as much as they were interviewing me.


So, at a later rather than sooner time in life, I am job hunting. It was always my intention to get a job once Kevin was out of treatment. He finished weekly treatment about the time I was having to see one doctor or another each week myself which further delayed any job searching on my part.

I pulled together a resume--sad little thing that it is--and began looking at ads a few weeks ago. With Kevin taking a fat paycut (which becomes more palatable when compared to losing his job entirely), my feeling of needing a job has become more urgent.

I'm interviewing at a local medical office tomorrow. They need a front office assistant and it looks like something I can do; something I would enjoy doing. The woman who called said they had over 100 applications and they're interviewing about 20 people.

So I feel good having made that cut. I'm not terribly hopeful of landing the job. DHL is closing it's airpark here and 8000 jobs are being lost. That leaves a pretty big pool of people out there looking at jobs, many with more office and real world job experience than me. I'm not sure how my daycare or graphics design work is going to translate into the real time world of a job outside of self-employment.

I guess we'll see.

A Visit With St. Nick

Wading through some of the photos from Breakfast with Santa at Purdue.

I think Santa was a bit surprised when he asked Haylee what she would like for Christmas and she replied "Everything." She should get points for honesty; every other kid there was thinking the same thing. Haylee brought her list down to it's most simple form.

"All I want for Christmas is everything."

There were a few terrified faces in the hundred or so tots we saw hoisted onto Santa's lap. Some of the parents act so surprised when their kid screams like a banshee upon being handed to an unfamiliar face full of polyester whiskers and fake fur. Duh. You spend hours teaching them about "Stranger Danger" and this reaction surprises you why?

Apparently there's a concern about North Pole germs too. Generous amounts of waterless germ killing goo were scrubbed on tots as they toddled away from their Santa encounter. Waterless hand sanitizer didn't exist when my kids were little. We cleaned them up by spitting on a Kleenex and scrubbing until their skin was beet red. It worked by sanding down the topmost layer of skin along with its occupying germs.

Santa himself wore gloves. Probably to hide the youthful twenty-something hands of a Purdue student but, possibly, Santa has his own feelings about contact with several hundred sticky, snotty kids.

For every screamer and germ free bubble kid there were dozens of littles with great trust in their parent's ability to make a judgment call on the Stranger Menace front. Happy tots who joyfully leaned in close for pictures and whispers of their heart's desires.

A couple of kids brought lists. One or two recited lists from memory. You can tell the home school kids when they visit with Santa. They not only have their lists memorized, they know what page number each item is on in the mail order catalog and have calculated the total shipping weight. and the best way for Santa to disburse his load in the sleigh. I think a couple had detailed schematic drawings done in AutoCad.

It was mostly a communal event. Packs of moms who do lunch (they roam in packs, you rarely spot one away from the herd) pulled along three or four kids each. Grandparents tried to corral several kids between them. A few parents ventured in one on one with their kids. Several families took advantage of the university decorating for The Annual Family Photo. You could spot them coming up the hallway--everyone clean and slicked up to a sheen with kids and parents in matching outfits. One family came complete with coordinating velvet Purdue Santa hats. Even with my outstanding organizational skills (read, 'controlling personality' here), I was impressed by any mother who could get a 10 or 12 year old boy to put on that hat and have the result recorded pictorally for posterity.

(I offer yet another heartfelt apology to my girls for those too many years of coordinating smocked dresses and hairbows.)

And the bunch in our crew? Unrestrained chaos. Evan ate the candy on the playhouse sized gingerbread house. Josh mugged a goofy face for the camera every time I pointed it at him. Haylee sat on a gift under the tree and squished it. Andrea looked a six foot tall college kid dressed as an elf up and down and shook her head in disdain while Hannah diverted from the approved list and surprised her dad by asking Santa for a goldfish.

It was wonderful.

Sugar Sweet Day

We're in Indiana tonight. Kevin is sound asleep--we had a long, full day.

This morning was Breakfast with Santa at Purdue. Haylee and family, Paige, Josh and Rob and the Pontos. Along with three or four hundred other people. The kids had a good time with plenty of sugar consumed while the adults were worn out and making a futile attempt to minimize the concrete sticky qualities of pancake syrup and candy canes. I'll post some photos later. It'll take some time to wade through the 200 or so shots I took.

We spent the afternoon at Haylee's house with her family and Paige, Rob and Josh. Wimmin-folk in the kitchen overseeing the cookie baking, men playing the Wii game in the next room.

Wise decision by the men. The kitchen was like Ground Zero for a sugar overload. Testosterone made an occasional kitchen appearance when Haylee's dad, Jeff, showed us the proper way to decorate a cookie, Josh dabbled in the effort or Rob wandered through for a tasting.

Kevin napped for a while and tried to generally stay out of the line of fire as cookie dough and sprinkles flew through the kitchen. Haylee and Josh sampled cookie dough, decorations and plenty of icing that never saw it's way to a cookie. The floor was sugar crunchy under a snowy coating of flour and Haylee capped the moment by drinking the sugar decorations straight out of the bowl!

It's good that Paige and Tamra were more interested in the kids having a good time than in producing picture perfect cookies! Jeff and I attempted to restore a little order to the decorating plan but we were out manned by the mommies and Josh and Haylee.

Kevin and I shook off the flour and went to the Vigil Mass at St. Tom's then out to dinner with Joannie, Zelda and Charlotte. The patient staff of the Akropolis seemed glad to see us go so they could lock the front doors for the evening. A fun but calm ending to a busy day.

It was great to spend time with some of our favorite people. A sweet day, indeed.

A Letter From Santa

Thinking about the daycare Deer Deader memories of last week, it's important to offer the children a more gentle explanation for the tongue lolling deer draped across the hoods of numerous Fords.

A letter from Santa.

Deer Sightings

It's deer season here in southwestern Ohio. Men plan their vacations around the first day of bow season with another day planned for the opening of gun season.

There's a lot of friendly Bambi-que competition about who has the best recipes for stew, sausage and barbeque. Kevin enjoys venison on the hoof, as it raids our feeders out back. He's just not a fan of it on his plate and he's already had to macho-up and try a few samples. I'm claiming to live a vegan lifestyle until the season passes.

Saturday mornings are good for numerous dead deer sightings in town but this one was exceptional. I actually followed the guy out of town so I could get a picture. It's not easy to get a good photo of a moving vehicle when you're trying to avoid gaining the attention of the sleep deprived driver with a crossbow on the seat beside him.

The SUV deer transport system is unusual in the local sea of trucks. Clearly an outsider. Wimmin and newcomers drive SUVs around here. Townies do not.

The preferred dear carcass transportation method here is across the hood of a Ford F150 or a pimped out Dodge Ram. Never mind that the bed of the truck is usually empty, save for a crushed cigarette carton, the wrapper of a sub sandwich from UDF and a 24 pack chilling on the drive home. Friends assure me that deer processing is a communal event and it can take a lot of beer to properly prepare Bambi for a lengthy stay in the freezer.

So we have a picturesque setting...a pristine new snow, the courthouse square decked out in lights and a large nativity scene, families walking in and out of the local bookstore so the kids can have their run down the Christmas slide (Remember Ralphie and the department store Santa scene in A Christmas Story? Apparently the bookstore owner here is a fan and a very creative person.) And then there's the stiff, dead deer drooping over the roof of the SUV.

Once we moved past that riveting holiday imagery, the big buck on top of the high SUV just begged speculation about HOW? How did one guy get the thing up there? How funny was it to watch? When he tacks on medical costs for his now injured back along with the cost of portable deer stand, ammo, bow and beer, does the processed venison come in at less than thirty bucks a pound?

My imagination runs toward images of the hunter hoisting the deer on the hood of his SUV then climbing up on the top and standing, spread legged, as he tugs a stiffening deer inch by inch up the windshield and onto the luggage rack.

I wonder if Eddie Bauer makes deer strappin' bungee cords to match his brand labeled Ford Explorers?

Stories, Books and Life--November 2008

November 2008--My sister has loaned Kevin her copy of The Shack, a story about a man and God. It's one of the current "IT" books that "everyone should read." I'll probably read it when Kevin is finished. We usually have good discussions about shared books even though our reading tastes generally differ. In the meantime, I remain happily immersed in a dozen recipe books, deciding on cookies to bake and meals to make for holiday dinners. I'm big on the planning, less on the actual execution.

Deer Deaders

Morning drives through town bring an increasing number of deer sightings.

Dead deer, draped across the hood of a truck. Deer are plentiful in this area and hunting is apparently very popular.

Deer season reminds me of a daycare story from about 5 years ago. Hannah and Travis were around 4 and 5 years old and Travis was excited because his dad "got a deer." The conversation was like a slow motion train wreck--I could see that it was going to happen and couldn't do a thing to stop it. In the children's minds "got a deer" conjured up images of some pet deer being led around on a leash, possibly with a saddle on it so they could ride. All of the littles were excited. Travis's dad got a deer! Travis mustered on...."Yeah, it was really cool--it was in the back of my dad's truck and..."

At nearly 5 years old, Hannah knew there was something fishy about a deer being in the back of someone's truck. She began to cast a suspicious eye on her friend. Travis continued..."and there was blood coming out it's mouth."

While every other little in the daycare looked at Travis with open admiration--after all, he had a deer readily available in the back of his dad's truck--the parts clicked into place with Miss Hannah.

"How did a deer get in your dad's truck? WHY is a deer in your dad's truck?"

"Because he shot it with his gun. It was really cool...it was in the back of my dad's truck and there was blood..."

Your dad deaded a deer?" She practically screeched. "He DEADED it?!"

The room grew silent. Travis was near tears. Six faces glared at him.

"Your dad deaded a deer?!" "What if he deaded one of Santa's reindeer, Ms. Lorri?" "WHY does Travis's dad dead deer?"

After a hastily improvised conversation about why people dead, er, hunt, deer and why I was certain this couldn't have been one of Santa's reindeer, I thought we had put the moment behind us. Tears were dried and calm was restored.

And then Travis's dad showed up. Used to being greeted by smiling faces and hugs, he was stunned when he got a cold shoulder. He made another attempt to greet the hostile mob and Hannah, mob spokesperson, melted him with a disgusted look and two cold words.

"Deer Deader!"

Blessings

In Indiana.

Kevin had a meeting in Wabash today; he'll drive over here later.

I stayed last night with a friend in Lafayette. We talked until late, something we've rarely had the chance to do in the last couple of years. Ran a few errands in town before heading out to the farm. The boys are out of school today and it's been entertaining to watch their antics as they help with the pre-holiday housework.

Joshua's class Thanksgiving program was great yesterday. He portrayed the much coveted "Native American," complete with a floppy feather headdress. I've had to miss most of his school programs because of daycare work so it was a treat to finally get to see his school. He liked having an audience of his own--me, his mom, his dad and his Grandpa Larry.

The last 2 days have been filled with the blessing of time spent with family and good friends, with more to come. Hannah, Andrea and Evan will be at Mass tomorrow morning with their dad. Our girls will join us at the farm for Thanksgiving dinner. James and his mother and brothers will join us. Then Friday we'll all meet up at Great Wolf Lodge near Cincinnati for a night of swimming and water slides.

I'll be ready to go home by tomorrow night; I like the quiet and routine of our evenings. But this time of friends and family has been a nice change from our usual days. We are blessed.

Sweet Potatoes and Native Americans

I'm off to Indianapolis this morning to see Joshua's class Thanksgiving show. He tells me he hopes to portray a "Native American."

Schools are very politically correct theses days; Joshua chastised me for saying "Indian." I mentioned it in an email to an older friend. She responded that she remembers when "Indian" was the politically correct term, replacing a host of other, less kind, words.

She also swears one of her great grandsons had the role of a sweet potato last year in his first grade Thanksgiving production. His big line was "I yam what I yam."

I had considered there might be someone portraying a rock, but a sweet potato?

So I am off to cheer on our aspiring Native American, sweet potato...whatever. Like a good grandma, I recognize the kid as having immense talent and I'm certain he will have a headliner part. Something that really showcases his gifts. Like the feast turkey.

Snowy Memories

It's been snowing since mid-afternoon and everything has turned a serene white. The deer were up on the patio this evening, emptying the bird feeders. Kevin has kicked back on the man-couch, close to the fireplace, with his computer. I baked today and the apartment is filled with the smell of banana bread and snickerdoodles.

The snow makes me miss the littles from daycare. Their infectious excitement over the first hint of snowflakes in the air. Asking to go outside and play even through there's barely enough snow to leave a footprint. Haylee would have told me it was "Bee-YOU--tee-ful!" out and Ella would have already had one arm in her coat.

Maybe it's a just a nostalgic time of year. Flashback to five o'clock this afternoon. I was making the bread and thinking Hannah and Andrea would be home from school. Homework would be done and they would take over the mashing of bananas, the measuring of flour, the cracking of eggs.

I would have one loaf of bread for the effort; the other being devoured, hot from the oven, by eager little people with mugs of hot chocolate and Ready Whip.

So I can decide to be sad tonight because I miss it. All of it; the piles of soggy mittens, the sticky kitchen floor where an egg missed the bowl, the loaves of bread with a sneaky pinch missing from one edge. Littles with noses red from the cold and sticky fingers coated in flour. I miss them.

Or I can count my blessings, then and now. Smile at the memories of snowy days with the littles, enjoy the pleasures of snowy evenings by the fireplace with Kevin now.

I'm counting.

Another

A friend of ours received a breast cancer diagnosis last Friday.

Another friend. Another cancer. There seem to be so many on the list these days. Friends who have had cancer, friends in treatment for cancer. Friends who have died from cancer.

Maybe it's our age. Maybe we're just more tuned in to it since Kevin's cancer.

Whatever the reason, it's one more. Another.

Cancer sucks. Have I mentioned that? Cancer treatment sucks. Dying from cancer sucks more. Sometimes.

And our prayer list grows.

First Snow

The first snow of the season.

Woke up to fluffy white flakes and a light snowcover. It's a wet snow and packs wonderfully so I had to make a snowman.

A two minute snowman. Tiny. Let's face it, I like looking at snow far more than I like being in snow.

Joshua's mom (Do you suppose she remembers a time when she had a name of her own, an identity not tied to being the mother of this child?) phoned yesterday to share the delights of being owned by an almost 7 year old boy who has just noticed the season's first snowflakes.

"He ran to the door, threw it open and yelled, 'It's SNOWING!' "

Josh's enthusiasm was a little dimmed when the snowflakes failed to accumulate on the ground, and he was less than thrilled this morning when Grandpa Kevin called to tell him it was snowing here. And Tante Kelly had sent pictures of their snowfall in Michigan. He hoped the snow would come his way today in Indiana. His mom explained that isn't how weather patterns usually work around here.

"So Ohio is getting OUR snow?"

I may have lost my edge as the cool grandma now that he thinks we pilfered his snow.

Early Blizzards

Kate and the band opened this weekend for The Rev Peyton's Big Damn Band at Lafayette Brewing Company. It was fun to see and hear Kate and the guys play again. She sounded stronger and more confident than last time we heard her. Her voice and Matt's sound good together.

LD Miller stepped in with his harmonica for a couple of numbers. For the unknowing, LD is the talented lad from "America's Got Talent" a couple of summers ago. He and brother Cole came in second in the television contest.

Kevin made a recording of Kate singing. I'll see if I can get it posted.

In the meantime, I did find a YouTube video of The Woodstove Flapjacks. Matt and James (our baby daddy) from the Flapjacks are also in The Early Blizzards with Kate. James is the on the left in the video, playing slide guitar. The Blizzards are more country than the Flapjacks but you can hear James and Matt on this clip of the Flapjacks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nj6nJafGVaM

November Things

November Autumn is in full swing. A few trees are still covered with colorful leaves and it looks like a red and yellow blizzard when the wind starts blowing. I opened the kitchen blinds this morning to the scene of two of this year's fawns scrounging on our patio. Some bird seed was spilled on the table yesterday and this was apparently taken as an invitation to join us for breakfast.

Last night Kevin spotted an 8 point buck wandering up the hillside from the woods. We don't often see large bucks this close so we were impressed. I'm sure next summer we'll see more evidence of his presence when the new fawns show up.

It may still be Autumn outside, but inside my inbox is full of Christmas email ads. The hazard of online shopping is a steady influx of e-junk mail from the retailers. There's a certain nostalgic element lost in the translation. Flipping through a bunch of email ads while parked in front of my computer isn't nearly as enjoyable as cozying down in front of the fireplace with a pile of catalogs from an eclectic array of stores.

Christmas catalog browsing on a rainy Autumn day may be a lost art along with learning how to count change and owning a library card.

Baby News

Talked to Kate tonight. She had an appointment with her doctor this week. James was able to go with her so he got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time.

Gizmo has expanded Kate's tummy by 5 inches since her last visit and she's gained a pound. One pound. I think she could gain a little more, but then, I don't think I ever gained a pound between visits when I was pregnant. Four pounds, five pounds, six pounds. Never one.

James' current favorite name for a baby boy is "Jude." St. Jude, patron of desparate causes. There's something appropriate here.

Kate says not to get attached to the name because James has a new favorite each week. I'm just pleased "Clyde" was discarded a few weeks ago. And our fear of "Sunshine Moonbeam Morrow" doesn't appear to be on the horizon.

They settled on a girl's name right away and it appears to have stuck with everyone. June Elise. Elise is Paige's middle name. Kelly, my sister and my mother all have birthdays in June. So the baby would be named for her aunts and great-grandmother which would be very nice.

In the meantime the baby continues to be known as "Gizmo" within our immediate family. Josh has great plans for little Gizzy and great hopes that Gizzy enters this world as a 5 or 6 year old boy!

Unknown Connections

Clark Gallery at the Honeywell Center sold another photo! "Garden Jewel" (hummingbird) So I have one left hanging, the photo of the flooded Wabash as a mist is rolling in over the fields.

"Through the Garden Window," "Verse," and "Winter Cardinal" sold from the Hubbard gallery over the weekend.

A gratifying showing overall.

I was thinking today about the connection between a photographer and a buyer. I rarely meet the people who buy my photos. The only apparent connection we have is a photo. But there has to be something more. There has to be a connection between why I took the photo and why someone buys the photo. A feeling, a similar moment lived, a memory preserved, rekindled. Something unknown yet recognized.

"There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer."--Ansel Adams

Home from Indiana.

Had several things in a show opening at the Hubbard Gallery of the Library in Clinton County. The framed prints were already hung when we got there on Friday and looked good. There isn't a lot of photography in this show, more paintings though. We took matted shots and art cards over on Friday morning along with the Santa figures.

I was less than thrilled with this year's Santas. It just felt more like effort year. But they got a good response during the opening reception Friday night so maybe I'm not seeing them the way other people do. I made one large piece this year and he sold soon after the reception opened.

We stayed long enough Saturday to go to the evening Mass over in Lafayette. We debated about staying and were pleased when we did and Father Patrick was the celebrant. He's a talented homilist as well as a dear friend.

It feels good to be home tonight. I really appreciate my father and Mary letting us stay in their home when we're in town, but it's nice to be together in our own little space tonight. Kevin is already asleep. He still gets tired easily and we've done a lot of travel in recent weeks. I'm hoping he sleeps late tomorrow.

There's glittery "snow" scattered across the carpet and bits of raw wool from Santa's beard are still floating through the air. I'll think about tackling those tomorrow--tonight I'm going to settle in with some recipe books. Think about sugar cookies, baklava and raspberry fudge.

Stories, Books and Life--October 2008

October 2008--Recipe books. I've been thinking about holiday cooking and baking so I've dug out the recipe books from deep in the old cupboard. I fall asleep while mentally measuring sugar, flour and cinnamon. Kevin uses his iTouch to catch up on a little pleasure reading when he has time. His always present rosary is either on the nightstand or tangled in the morning sheets when he's fallen asleep mid-prayer the night before.

Some Things You CAN Put A Price On

Had an email from the gallery director at The Honeywell Center. My egret photo sold today.

I am inexplicably pleased. Having someone back up their "I like that picture" with hard earned cash is an entirely different satisfaction from that of winning a competition or being chosen for a show.

$175.00 worth of satisfaction. Some things you can put a price on.

Truth, Justice and Lies

As predicted, the Ashley Todd story of the dyslexic mugger with the Obama agenda has imploded. It was a lie fabricated by Ms. Todd herself.

For the partisan record, there was no McCain/Palin agenda at work here either.

Ashley Todd's fate now rests in the hands of lawyers, doctors and courts. There's room to argue that her actions are more the result of mental illness than racial politics.

But I still wonder what it says about the rest of us. Those who embraced it as a truth about race and those who dismissed it as a racist manipulation against truth.

Sometimes a lie is just a lie. Even the ones we tell ourselves.

Homecoming

Home again.

We spent the weekend in Indiana. Stayed at the farm with Mikkel and Mauricio, the exchange students from Denmark and Brazil who are spending the school year with my sister and her husband. With my brother-in-law on a mission trip and my sister running a marathon in Washington D.C. as a qualifier for next spring's Boston Marathon, we volunteered to stay with the boys.

It was Homecoming weekend on the Purdue campus. We met up with Paige and Rob, Hannah, Andrea, Evan and Rose and Haylee, Tamra, Jeff and Tamra's parents for Purdue's Night Parade. It was fun to see it through Haylee's joyful eyes!

Late Friday night Kate played with a band Matt Scherger recently formed, The Early Blizzards. They opened at Scagnoli's downtown. The band's first public appearance and we were lucky enough to be in town to see them!

Saturday morning we took the boys to the booths on Purdue's engineering mall for freebies then sent them off with Paige and Rob for the game. Saturday night we carved pumpkins--a new venture for the boys--and Sunday morning we went to the early Mass before going out for lunch.

Kate rode home with us tonight. She has a class in Cincinnati tomorrow so I'll take her to her class and she'll ride back to Indiana with a friend from work who is driving over in the morning.

As much as we miss our friends and life in Indiana, we're settled in here now and it felt good to get home tonight. Kevin is already asleep. I'm not sure he ever really feels rested these days but we'll shoot for quiet evenings this week and see if that doesn't help him catach up a little.

It's a different homecoming tonight. Quieter, no parade, no band. But a homecoming nonetheless.

Photo Identification

Doing my Happy Dance tonight. The Honeywell Center in Wabash, Indiana, has hung 3 of my photos in their annual photography show. Out of 309 entries, the judge choose to hang 87 photos.

And 3 are mine (she said, with an inappropriate lack of humility!)

Last year I entered 3 pieces and 1 was hung in the show. This year I'm 3 for 3.

I take hundreds, maybe thousands, more photos than I ever print. Hundreds more than I even keep stored on my trusty external hard drive. I print a few for scrapbook pages for Josh and the girls. Of the few I print for me or to exhibit, I remember something of each photo--something about why I took it; where I was, what brought me to that place, why I liked that shot. The technical details often elude me--exposure settings, lighting. But each time I print a shot, I think about why I took it. I identify with it's story, it's heart.

But enough of the violins and heart pulls about why I like my photos. Tonight I'm indulging in a little self-centered happy dancing simply because someone else likes them too.

Lies, Hate and Guilty Politics

The closer we come to the November election, the more I'm forced to realize I live an insulated life. I believed racism, the fear and hate that breeds racism, didn't exist among the educated and faith-filled people who largely populate my life.

I don't know if it was less apparent than now or I chose not to see it.

I have a friend, someone whose opinion I have often sought out, who tells me that Michelle Obama "hates little blonde white girls" and calls Senator Obama "boy." Another repeatedly maintains there's a white hating agenda being quietly put into place by the Democratic candidate. Our daughter's neighbor rants about having "one of those people" in the White House and wonders--in front of Joshua--what our daughter would do if Josh brought home "one of those girls" as a date or a wife. Someone else uses the word "nigger;" a word I had wrongly assumed would never enter into the landscape of my grandchildren's lives.

Today's email brought a forwarded link to a story about a McCain campaign worker being attacked--having a "B" carved into her cheek--by a black mugger. A supposed Obama supporter taking a break from his real job as a thief to teach her a lesson about supporting the other candidate. My emailing friend wanted me to see the horrible evidence of things to come if Senator Obama finds his way to the Oval Office. Black thugs cruising our streets, assaulting good white folks for sheer pleasure and getting away with it.

Initially I thought the whole thing, the entire story, had to be a hoax. There surely is no Ashley Todd working for the McCain ticket to be mugged, let alone branded by her attacker as a lesson to other McCain workers.

I was wrong on that front. The story exists. It's all over the news. Ashley Todd is a real person with a real backwards "B" scratched into her face.

I still think it's a hoax. The attack. The mugging, the ominous "B" carved into her face. My money is on it all being made up by Ms. Todd.

A mugger with a political agenda? Give me a break. Too convenient by far. A dyselxic mugger with the time on his hands to neatly carve a backwards "B" on his victim's face after he grabs her cash? He doesn't dash back into the shadows to count his booty or buy his daily dope; he looks over her car, observes the McCain sticker and decides to make a political statement on her face? He doesn't steal the car too? Or at least urinate on the offending McCain sticker?

For my emailer the story is true; real evidence that, after years of discrimination, all black people harbor violent resentment against white people. A black guy who steals isn't simply a thief. He's now a political machine out to balance the scales of oppression.

I think it's a lie. And not a good one at that. I haven't figured out why Ashley Todd would fabricate such an elaborate lie. Maybe she's just a liar.

What I've spent time trying to understand is why my emailing friend--or anyone--is willing to believe it. To embrace it. Without reservation.

Is it hate or fear of anything, anyone, appearing different from us that drives us to accept an outlandish story in an attempt to maintain the status quo? Is it guilt--our white response to years of an entire race being treated with inequality here in the one nation founded on equality--that lets us convince ourselves there's a violent "black agenda" in motion and we are the target?

Are we overwhelmingly driven by hate, fear or guilt?

By The Numbers

Tangie called from the cancer clinic with the results of Kevin's bloodwork. She'll be mailing us a copy but wanted to let us know things "looked fine." His CEA level has risen to 2.1 from 1.3 in July. That concerns me but Tangie says we don't worry unless it gets above 3.0

Easy for her to say.

I want it to go down, not up. Not even a little up--and a rise of .8 doesn't fall into my range of "little" if three is the max point.

Knowing there are other things which can elevate CEA levels, I'll try not to obsess too much on this until his next check up. For those of you who like to keep track, some of the crucial numbers are in the image here. Just click on it for a larger view in your browser. The far right box shows the previous numbers. White count is finally into a "normal" range, as are red count and hemoglobin.

Tangie called as I was settling down onto a boulder to look out across the Adirondack Mountains. It's a lot easier to let the little things stay little when you're in the midst of such grand beauty.

The mountains amaze me. Ageless. I can see signs of changes that have occured through time. Smaller rocks broken from enormous boulders. Some are cracked yet holding onto their place on the mountain. Some have fallen and settled in a new place to carry their share of the load. The scars of centuries of environmental assault on their faces, trees growing up--new life springing forth--through deep gouges in the rock. And the mountain endures.

The mountains remind me of so many people we've come to know with cancer and other chronic illness. A growing number. Ageless in the spectrum of life from infants to the elderly. Cracked,maybe broken, but holding on to the mountain. Fallen and redefining their "normal" from a new place. Scarred from treatment as well as disease, deeply gouged, yet continuing to witness to the power of life.

Grand beauty.

Published

If you're here to inquire about an autograph, get in line.

Someone. Please. Start the line. Anywhere.

Had an email from a friend in West Lafayette today. She says my HONORABLE MENTION photo of Purdue's bell tower is in the current issue of Helen magazine, a local publication. She was, appropriately, wowed and has graciously spread the news.

Well, to be honest, her email was titled "Lorri's First Loser Photo" and went on to explain where the FLP could be viewed.

Nonetheless, published is published and I intend to wallow in my milli-second of glory.

So, if you happen to have access to the current issue of Helen magazine, grab it and get in line for my autograph on page 3. Bring a snack. I'm certain the lines will be long and tedious.

Three Month Check-Up

Check up day.

Appointment went well. Dr. Skinner isn't requiring another PET/CT now as she indicated in July. The doctors agree the 'hot spot' seen on that scan is nothing more sinister than inflammation related to his chemotherapy port, an area that is still in that itchy/achey healing mode so would likely show up again if another scan was done now.. His spleen is a little enlarged but that's not unusual as a response to the Neulasta he was given to bolster his blood counts. We'll get blood work results next week which will tell us more about his recovery from the side effects of chemotherapy and monitor for indications of new cancer. Mainly we are watching his CEA level now, an antigen which might indicate the presence of active tumor growth.

Low. That's where you want a CEA level. Low, low, low

The more indicative prompts, though, are the follow-up PET/CT and CT scans which will be alternated at 6 month intervals. Kevin and I are both glad there's no scan and waiting for results this round. The waiting period is a painful nails-on-chalkboard period of remembering ten plus months of treatment did not come with guarantees.

Kevin's fight with neuropathy continues. He is using Glutamine, which does seem to make a difference in the day to day response. Dr. Skinner says to expect additional regression of the numbness and tingling over the next 3 months. She is very enthused about the response she's seeing patients get from the Glutamine. Kevin was one of the first people (many thanks to friend and nutritionist Sue Zuck) to use Glutamine both here and in the Lafayette clinic. I like it because Glutamine doesn't come with any baggage--it doesn't cause a new problem while addressing this one, a rare thing in medicine.

The greetings at the clinic were warm today. It was good to see him remembered and greeted like an old friend, not some by-the-wayside patient they had forgotten in the passing months. Even one of the radiology techs stopped him in the hallway with a handshake and a joke. It's been how long--8 months?--since Kevin was a patient on that side of things and still John recognizes him, asks how his doing, takes time to listen to the answer and tease about us being transplants to Ohio State territory.

I wish no one would ever need cancer care again. But that's not going to happen. So my prayer is that those who do need this care will find themselves in a place--with people--like what we've found here at Boyd.

First Loser, Round Two

I have again attained "First Loser" status, to use Joshua's description of the Honorable Mention category in competition. The full story of Josh's nomination of me as First Loser can be found in the post archives from sometime last September.

My photo of Purdue's bell tower at night was included in the HM category of a recent photo contest, thus Josh's resurrection of "First Loser" status for his granny.

Rotten kid. Next time I'm photoshopping a t-shirt for that boy's soccer team, someone remind me to put pigtails and lipstick on him for payback.

Stories, Books and Life

September 2008--Nicholas Sparks. Got him for my birthday. A couple of his books anyway. It's been awhile since I read books--whole entire grown-up books--just for pleasure. I've read a lot of stuff I enjoy and found pleasure in, but not a lot of books just for the sheer joy of reading. I can't tell what Kevin is reading this month. The iTouch defies me.

Being Me...Or Not

Our cars became "Buckeyes" yesterday.

We purchased license plates for our cars. OHIO license plates. Front and back bumpers. We will now be publicly visible as visitors when we're "back home again in Indiana."

On the positive front, BMV workers in Ohio are not trained in that surly dog method of customer service popularized in Indiana BMV offices. The people here were not only accommodating and pleasant; they were helpful. They must have missed the inservice days required for Indiana BMV workers with topics like "Wiping the Smile Off a New Car Owner's Face," "Five Things You Can Do to Make a New Resident Sweat Blood" and "Welcome Schmelcome."

But, like most things post-9.11.01, getting Ohio license plates is a round robin of offices and fees. License office for vehicle inspection of VIN numbers. Clerk's office for title transfers. Back to License office for plates and registration. State police post to take driver's test for Ohio driver's license. Back to license office to actually GET driver's license.

And you have to prove everything. Being who you've been for nearly 50 years isn't enough. You have to prove it.

Turns out, I'm not me. Technically, I'm not married me, I am single me. It wasn't a total surprise. The IRS had let us know in the last year or so by rejecting filings with my married name. Now though, thanks to additional security measures post 9.11, my driver's license and the car I own solo have to be in my former, but still legal, name.

So I remain a card carrying Indiana driver. I'm going to fix my name with the Social Security office rather than affix my old name to my new life here in Ohio. The old convertible VW is ready to be tucked away for the winter so there's time to become legally me before it's plated again.

In the meantime, a friend points out that I am, for once, right in the middle of the current trend. I am an Undocumented Resident.

Soccer Season

Watching Joshua play soccer reinforces my total and utter bias as his grandmother. I am certain he is the most skilled, most team oriented and best looking kid on the field.

I'm his grandmother; it's what I do.

His team this season is the MetroStars in the under 8 league. I worked on elevating my status as a "cool" granny by creating a team graphic and ironing it onto a t-shirt for him.

It's ridiculously gratifying to have this 6 year old boy think I hung the moon. Just for him.

We can't make all of his soccer games. We can't even make it to most of them. But I don't think he's going to remember what we missed. I think he'll remember when we were on the sidelines cheering, the photos I took and the "way cool" t-shirts.

MOG

Mass on the Grass at St. Tom's. The ages old tradition of officially welcoming the return of Purdue's student parishioners with an outdoor Mass on the mall lawn at Purdue.

Rose brought Hannah, Andrea and Evan over to sit with us. We chatted with Patrick, Zelda and Charlotte afterwards.

I sat there this evening looking over the crowd, a mix of students and resident parishioners, and marveled at the diversity of the group. A young couple caught my eye as they wove their way through the groups sitting on the lawn. They looked like they had been plucked right out of a campus photo from the late 60's or early 70's. Long hair on him. An ankle skimming gown and band circling her head for her.

"THIS is what I love about the campus--it takes all kinds," I thought to myself.

Then I looked a little more closely at the couple.

"Oh! That's OUR kind" popped into my mind as Kate and James joined us!

It was nice to have them with us for Mass. A late summer evening outside. Friends and family gathered around. The wonder of the Mass.

How blessed we have been.

Kevin's now evicted cancer and I had another conversation today. We used to talk on a regular basis, Cancer and I. Not so much anymore though. It was a relationship I was more than willing to shelve at the conclusion of Kev's chemotherapy. I suppose the three of us, Kevin, Cancer and Lorri are forever connected at this point but Kevin and I see it more from a bad neighbor gone away viewpoint.

I had it in my mind that Cancer and Lorri weren't going to dialogue again until at least sometime in October when Kevin is due for a check-up and follow-up PET. And my plans had our future conversations being one sided affairs where I reminded Cancer that the big guns are all on our side. Sort of a mental raspberry blown in Cancer's direction.

So much for planning.

I had another appointment with my shiney new doctor today and she re-introduced the arch-enemy, Cancer. It's just a suggestion at this point, a concern, a worry. A possibility on the list of possibilities we are slowly eliminating.

Apparently she doesn't understand the rule about not saying the word lest you summon the demon.

So I have more lab tests, another ultrasound, another type of biospy, a hysteroscopy and D & C. THEN we decided what we're going to actually do to fix things.

All proof that the world is run by insurance companies. Only an insurance company could rationalize an approach where we spend twice as much money on a handful of relatively useless things to get to the point of spending money on what's actually going to tell us something.

And work down a list where the tests and results get exponentially crappier.

On the plus side, in my ever assbackward optimism, I'm not particularly worried. It is whatever it is. The last year with Kevin has taken the edge off that bit of panic.

Live the Moment

The doe and fawns were at the feeders this morning.

I slipped quietly into a chair on the patio, thought briefly about retrieving my camera from inside and decided against it.

A fawn wandered cautiously up the hill. He was curious about the drips from planters watered earlier in the morning.

He stepped closer and sniffed my feet, my legs, my hands. Our eyes met, nearly nose to nose.

For a fleeting moment I thought about my camera just steps away in the house.

In the end, I missed the shot. But without the camera between us, I lived the moment.

I wonder, how many times do I look at life through a lens that keeps me from living the moment?

Long Weekend

Joshua, Paige and Rob came over for the holiday weekend.

Saturday we ate lunch outside at a tavern in Covington and checked out a few of the shops. They walked across the Purple People Bridge and explored the levee area.

Sunday we visited the Renaissance Festival. Kevin and I liked the costumed participants and the music. Josh liked the jousting knights and, particularly, the broken piece of jousting stick he had autographed by both knights.

Monday we went to the zoo. Josh had fun showing Rob around one of our regular haunts although Josh wasn't willing to go into the aviary with us to feed the lorikeets. They headed back to Indiana from the zoo and we came home for a nap.

New Territory

Kev's found himself on the other side of the patient/doctor/caregiver triangle recently. I'm not sure it's as easy as he thought it might be and I know it's not bringing the balance of power he expected.

That at least keeps me entertained so I'm less cranky about this week's 4 visits to my new doctor's office. Peggy was as good as her word and got me in to see someone within days of our last meeting.

Four appointments this week is a lot of intrusion into my space. Literally. The new doctor is a gynecologist.

After an endometrial biopsy earlier this week, I had a "surgery consultation" with the doctor today and Kevin came along to meet her.

Gynecology offices aren't made for men. They're very pink and full of very pink stuff.

Whereas I found the 3 dimensional pop-apart rendering of the stomach, intestines and rectum in Dr. Francis' office very intriguing--and was quite happy to pull the pieces out and try to fit them back together, Kevin seemed a little discomfited by a similar rendering of uterus, ovaries and vagina in Dr. Lovell's office. And he wasn't having any part of puzzle play with it.

I think he thought it was vaguely naughty to play with the thing. Which made me laugh all the more.

I pointed out that his butt was completely uncharted territory for me and I adapted quickly to the language and topigrahical discussion. I remember Dr. Francis and I doing a couple of impromptu tag-team sketches of the critical parts of Kev's ass as Dr. Francis was explaining the surgery and healing process to us.

One would think nearly 2 decades of marriage would bring Kevin a certain comfortable familiarity with the language and inner workings of female geography but not so.

I was apparently wrong about us having explored, in graphic medical detail, all of the taboo subjects (and areas) in this last year.

Autumn Herald

Being away even for as little time as a weekend, lets us see things with new eyes.

Whether it's the lack of rain or a herald of changing seasons, we were surprised by the leaves on the ground near the woods. A hint of autumn color is beginning to show in places and we noticed the deer are becoming downright chunky after a summer of plenty.

One of the does came up to feed in the cool of the morning today. She is without her fawns this morning and she sizes me up quickly. My computer and I are no threat to her time out. She enjoys raiding the feeders for breakfast as surely as I enjoy watching.

A lone leaf drifted down from the trees just in time for me to snap it with my camera. It reminds me of what I like about this time of year--the colors, smells, sounds, the slowing down of time.

Easter Baby

Our Kate is pregnant.

Our baby is having a baby. Never mind that she's on the downward slide toward 25 years old, as the youngest of the sisters, she is eternally the baby of the family.

Saturday evening brought tears I held back as both she and James cried when they told us. Parents pray their children's tears will be tears of happiness, not worry, at the news of a new baby. And we hope our answering tears will be joyful, not mingled with doubt and concern.

The pieces of life--finances, living arrangements, healthcare and job concerns--add an underlying stress to their announcement.

We will, all the same, lovingly welcome a new member to our clan sometime around Easter 2009. A spring time baby.

Having cleared the hurdle of telling parents, Kate has been making phone calls to her sisters and aunt. I sense a growing excitement among les trois tantes. They are already making plans for a girl child. I dig through a closet, find a box and carefully unwrap Katie's baptismal gown of nearly twenty-five years ago. I remember her Easter birthdays and Barbie cakes.

This family is ready for the joy of new life and the hope that comes with it.

Summer PIcnic

Picnic at the lake. My sister and brother-in-law welcomed their two exchange students and many friends to a picnic on their farm. The boys are from Denmark and Brazil and seemed to have already settled in comfortably in their new surroundings.

It was a gorgeous day filled with fishing, canoeing, the sound of laughter and the smell of food on the grill.

Kate couldn't get out to the party due to her work schedule and was adamant about meeting us for dinner back in Lafayette. So we'll be leaving the hotel soon to meet her at Spagheddies. She said "we'll see you there" which leads me to believe James will be joining us. We're not exactly sure what their relationship is these days but I'll bet we figure it out over dinner.

Frozen Recovery

Our freezer marks the progress of Kevin's recovery from the cold induced effects of Oxaliplatin.

Cherry Cordial Ice Cream. Popsicles. External Hard Drives??













For the computer uninitiated, those thin black things are external hard drives. I discovered them while looking for something to prepare for supper. Kevin apparently stashed them in the freezer last night. It's a techie trick to try to buy enough time to retrieve the files stored on an overheating hard drive.

Just weeks ago he couldn't have easily handled the frozen hard drives. Or stood the nerve pain of having the cold ice cream in his mouth.

He's making progress, healing. I'm making dinner. Something with blackened external hard drives..

Un-Chemotherapy Day #5

It's un-chemotherapy day again. The every other week reckoning of symptoms, side effects and healing.

Five un-chemotherapy days = 1o weeks of un-chemotherapy = A Much Happier Kevin

Continuing side effects of treatment are almost unnoticeable some days, a lingering nag on many days and an intrusive reality on a few days.

Healing a body from the side effects of cancer treatment is less than an exact science. There are some things filed under the "we don't really know why that happens" heading. Kevin and I continue our Mad Scientist approach to much of it--trying to decide what does and doesn't impact things for better or worse on a daily basis.

The neuropathy in his hands and feet continues to be a consistent annoyance. He's adjusting to the ongoing tingle and the frustration of dropping things but is hoping to see more improvment in this area. Some of the cold sensitivity in his mouth lingers but not enough to keep him from becoming a regular at Dairy Queen's drive through window.

He gets tired easily--a really deep tired that still surprises him--but his energy level is increasing each week.

His appetite is better--ravenous is the word he uses. Most foods taste good again; some things are still undefined. A few foods don't taste like he thinks they should taste.

This may have more to do with my cooking than his tasting, but we'll just see how it plays out over the next few months.

The College, er, MiddleAge Days

I had a realization tonight.

We have hit middle age-- one of us has the AARP card to prove it--and we live like college students. Our lifestyle has regressed.

We have downsized a 4 bedroom house into a 2 bedroom apartment.

Our bikes are parked in the lving room. They are used often enough to make it too large of an effort to wheel them clear through the apartment to their niche beside the storage shed on the patio.

The placemats are folded over the back of one of the unused chairs at the dining room table. Too much trouble to wash them if someone spills, easier to wipe the table.

The tablecloth is...I don't remember where the tablecloth is. It was here when I moved in. But sometime over the months it disappeared to the laundry room and never returned.

The dishwasher is as much storage as it is utility.

There are more Pepsi cans than milk cartons in the recycling bin.

There is an unhung picture leaning on the fireplace mantel. There has been one or another leaning there for months.

I consider dusting a task to do when company is expected. Maybe. When the queen drops in for tea or something.

If I wanted to mop the floor, I would have to dust off the mop first.

We ate pizza in front of the TV tonight. Not even homemade pizza. Unbaked pizzas we hauled home in a cooler from Arni's in Lafayette and stored in the freezer for later times. Like a care package from a mom to her campus kid.

I used to keep a perfectly ordered house where dust feared to tread and there were fresh flowers on the table (from my own well maintained gardens). I imagined it would become much easier, and still very important, to do when our children were grown and the house was no longer filled with the messiness of family life.

The truth is, fresh cut flowers make me sneeze and dust only bothers me if I bother it first. I like the picture unhung, it's easy to change the scenery of my day this way. And under the tablecloth there lurked a beautiful natural wood finish on the dining table--that doesn't have to go into the washing machine to be cleaned.

The house has been traded in for an apartment and it turns out biking is highly enjoyable when you're not worried about the child wobbling in front of or behind you.
And pizza truly is better when it's eaten in front of the TV.

Granny Knew

Kevin is feeling much better tonight.

Apparently you can survive cancer and its treatments and then go on to have perfectly normal, non-life threatening, plain old everyday sniffles, sneezes and general flu-like things.

Who knew?

Other than my granny?

It's Not A Problem Until It's A Problem.

Kevin is sick. Probably a virus. Sleep last night was interrupted by the frequent demands of a miserable body and tonight he came in from work and dropped, exhausted, on the Man Couch.

He's finally resting well; I'm not sure I'll even wake him to go to bed.

Probably a virus.

But the what ifs really struck me in the wee hours today as he made yet another tired trek from the bedroom.

I made him a salad for lunch yesterday and sliced fresh tomatoes for supper. With basil from our garden. Have I poisoned his still tired immune system with the uncooked food we avoided so carefully during the months of chemotherapy?

I wonder if I need to call Dr. Skinner. Three hundred and seventy-six days ago the idea of calling an oncologist for what appears to be a virus would have seemed ludicrous. Insane. Impossible--we didn't even know any oncologists.

Now I lay awake and weigh the evidence to decide if this is a little thing or a big thing. Big Thing includes anything related to cancer. A little thing is everything else.

I wait. He's drinking plenty, he's on his feet. There's time to see what this is, what it will be.

I wonder when do things become normal again? When is long enough for a cough to be just a cough? An ache just the natural groan of an aging body and not a sign of some new symptom or side effect?

I devoted more hours to this today than I wanted. I have, however, come to a realization.

Do not, as my grandmother would remind me, borrow trouble.

It's not a problem until it's a problem.

The Bike Trail

Our August autumn continues. The days are cool for summer. The evenings are a delight. Too cool even for the usual hordes of mosquitoes on the bike trail.

Biking is working for Kevin. Less painful than walking--it eases the painful tingle on his feet and doesn't come with the tripping hazard. He can switch hands between the sometimes painful task of grasping handlebars without interrupting his ride. Sometimes the two mile trail comes easy for several passes and other days it's an effort to make it in and out once. He enjoys the effort, the success of being able to endure the effort.

Me? I can tell how he's feeling by how many times he laps me on the trail. Always at least once, usually repeatedly. I meander along. Stop to photograph a wild flower. Wait for some deer to cross the trail ahead of me. Peer over a bridge to see what's happening in the creek.

We are, always, together yet we see the view through slightly different lens.

Kevin feels like a year disappeared from his life. He is driven to reclaim what he missed. The time, the plans, the opportunities that were pushed aside by an unwelcomed interruption.

For me it was a year that lasted forever. Everything clamored for attention in a deafening roar. The moments may have slipped away under the din; the minutes I remember. Days and nights that were sometimes counted in miserably slow minutes.

I balance against a bridge while I wait for Kevin. We're somewhere in the middle of the trail. We know where we began but we can't see the end of the trail from here. This is a good place to be.

Redemption

The house phone still doesn't ring often here. But when it does ring these days I feel less of that nervous apprehension of "what now" if I see the hospital or a doctor's office popping up on the caller ID.

The cancer center called today. They were following up on Kevin's colonoscopy from last week. Wanted to know what the doctor found and how things are generally going for Kevin.

I'm pleased. This is why we came here for his treatment. This kind of follow-up and communication. This kind of care.

This one moment--the call that says 'we just want to know how things went' and I get to respond 'really well' and then I get to tell Kevin some good news from the clinic--makes up for each of those crappy calls I answered and each time I had to hit Kevin with more painful news this last year.

This is my redemption.

Zoo

We went to the zoo this morning. Banked up some of Kevin's increasing energy by having a quiet day yesterday with the intention of spending it on one big zoo-spree this morning.

It was a good time. Cool weather which invigorated the zoo residents as well as us.

Encountered some highly entertaining children and frightened their parents by talking to them. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Cincinnati isn't like our home in Indiana where a few sentences would render us "not frightening" because the parents would likely know someone we know.

Four hours later we called it a day and came home. To further feed our inner child, we're going to have a nap now.