Radiation round up- almost done!

*Some reader discretion advised. Not all images may be suitable for all audiences*

But this one is:

Before I get into any of the cancer stuff, Dada and I got to go see Thunderbolts* in an IMAX theater with less than 10 other people. Seriously. Fun times! It's a good one to see BIG! And, holy cow, loud. He's such a cute date. 😍

Above and below were the same day, May 14. For context, I think I started April 21 and have had radiation every week day since, except today for the holiday. 

The red arrow shows the top half of my scar from last fall when the tumor was removed and the lymph nodes were extracted and lymph vessels were rerouted into veins. The yellow arrow points to my mastectomy scar, the blue one points to a surgical drain scar, the purple arrow highlights not a scar but the indentation of where my compression sleeve is digging in, and the green line shows where the radiation field stops along my side. 

And further down we have love handles which don't need any more attention drawn to them. Moving on! 

I took the photo below this Tuesday and have had 3 sessions since then. Only three more to go and then I'm done! If you search Lady of the Lotions in this blog,  December of 2018 will get you there eventually, you'll see a photo of what I looked like from the previous round of radiation. I was peeling in circles and the burn was more intense. Granted, I still have three to go, but I feel that between the proactive recommendation (and use) of steroid cream and the more precise nature of the proton therapy, my skin has held up better overall.

Side effects of radiation are fatigue- I guess you get tuckered out from your cells ferrying out all the other dead and damaged cells but I continue to forget that and wonder why I'm exhausted after yard work- and I'm finally experiencing some itching, like a sunburn can when it's not really complaining but kind of reminding you that it's there. I'm a bit tight as well, but I haven't done yoga for the last 4 days as I've been weeding and doing more housework related movements instead. 

What is surprising (but perhaps isn't really when one considers it) is the side effect of a sore throat. You know how when you have a sore throat it feels swollen and also scratchy or scrapey or sting-ish? Just keep the swollen. It's caused in this case by inflammation from the radiation, but it doesn't sting or feel scratchy. It does make swallowing less instintive and more intentional. 

Thankfully, my doc is on the ball and had given me the heads up weeks ago about that possibility and has asked every week if I'm experiencing it. It didn't really start until last week and even then it was less with swallowing and more ... burps felt like they were thicker. I've noticed that when drinking, instead of just chugging water, I have to slow down and sometimes stop for a reset. I don't want to drown! The doc asked if I was still doing pills okay and I thought about it before saying, "well, the calcium pills are a little scary but they regularly try to kill me so....." 

So the simple solution is MILKSHAKES, muahahaaha!

All in all, doc thinks I'm doing fantastic. I have these last 3 to go and then hellooooooo summertime! This therapy will coincide nicely with the end of the school year. 

Thanks for all your prayers- you can see how well they've worked- and be safe this Memorial Day weekend and wrapping up the school year!

 

Another post of Random

 Dada hit yet another auction, this time with Thing Two, and brought home at least three boxes of books. Now we get to sort what we want to keep, will actually use, will never use, what goes to the used bookstore for book credit, and so on!

One of Thing Two's science experiments isn't going as planned. The Dixie cup on the left has three bean seeds. The Dixie cup on the right has 15 bean seeds. The glass jar in the middle holds a few but aren't part of the experiment. 

He's supposed to find out what happens when seeds are overcrowded. I told him to just look at our garden for an example of overcrowding. None of his initial three beans have even come up, three of the 15 showed up, and the ones who don't matter are thriving. Beans.

I was killing some time last week when I saw these lovely colors together and had to take pictures!

Being in a college town, you end up with lots of coffee shops. This is one of our favorites. The week before, Thing Three had beaten Thing Two who proceeded to shellac him this time!

These next two shots were taken at the bus stop first thing in the morning. Well, first thing for some people. Right around 7 AM. Some of us had already been up for hours. It's so dark!

It's rare to see this kid conked out like this. He's always in motion, but he sure had a great nap this weekend!

Tis the season for shepherd's pie!

Have a terrific week!

New addition

Liam is taking a health class this semester which required him to be assigned a baby for a weekend. Lucky us. Below is "Little Satan" and "I am never having kids. Never." What you may not be able to discern is that Liam figured out he didn't actually have to hold said baby to feed it; he wedged the bottle under the onesie and let it glug away to its mechanical heart's delight. Several times we remarked, awestruck, that this baby was going to explode.

Then, of course, it needed burped. However, with a real baby you can pat various areas of their backs and bottoms to achieve the burping. This child device had a sensor on its back that you had to clack until it decided to burp. Clearly the child was related to Carrie, the original unburpable baby.

I can say in all honesty that this was the Monday in which Liam was most delighted to go back to school and get rid of his charge!

Health, one year later, and assorted teasers

*photos, so viewer discretion advised if needed*

I promise I am not this color in real life, haha; dunno what is with looking like this! So this is what my skin looks like 4 months post-radiation. I'm trying to remember to lotion it daily. There is still a patch on the back of my shoulder of darker skin as well, but I couldn't get a good shot of it in the mirror with my phone. 

Overall, I'm feeling really good, for those of you who are keeping tabs on me. I'm on the other end of allergies/sinus/cold; around Easter weekend I felt like I'd walked into a sliding glass door. All that pressure and underwater gunkage feeling like your head is a bowling ball and you don't dare lean over to tie your shoes for fear you won't be able to right yourself again. Then it headed down and I started coughing. Soon I sounded worse than I felt for a few days and now I'm rarely coughing. Yay!

My hair is back, another yay! People keep asking if I'm going to grow it out again or keep it short. Time will tell. My friend who trimmed and tidied it told me it takes awhile for the top of your head to catch up to everywhere else. She said once my duck fuzz turns back into real hair it'll cooperate a little better, haha, and that I was to wait eight weeks before seeing her again or I'd feel like I was making no progress at all. My mom said, "your hair has always been attractive but now it is CUTE!" Thanks, Mom =)

Friday was my one year anniversary since the official "yes, you have breast cancer" diagnosis. I want to take a minute to thank everybody who sent anything physically like mail or blankets or cookies. Thanks for carving out time to run that errand. Every single one was appreciated. And not one less iota of thanks to those of you who prayed for me and sent me good juju throughout this year. I seriously would not be in the good shape (round is a shape!) I'm in if you hadn't invested in me. Thank you for checking in, for letting me know you were keeping track of the blog, for the facebook encouragement, all of it. Thank you, Tribe!

And now another minute to remind everyone to not put off those doctors' appointments. That goes for you, too, men; I'm not only preaching to the ladies here. There are trained professionals who want to help you be your best you! Fixing problems when they're small or early can save you tons of time and money and aggravation and heartache later on. AND LET PEOPLE HELP. For goodness sake, you are a human being, not a burden, so stop suffering in silence and ask for what you need! Be specific. You matter!

Last Thursday, just before my one year anniversary, I had my last infusion of Herceptin and Perjeta. Hooray! My blood counts looked good (WBC 3.96, HGB 12.3, PLT 123- that was for my nurse friends) though white blood cells were down a little bit because of my germs. My fabulous nurses hugged me and made me cry, of course. I'll be back in six weeks to check to see how the new oral meds that I start in three weeks are working. I have the best nurses. *beam*

And life just keeps going on!  The house is an absolute wreck as we were busy doing projects all weekend. You know, little things like planting seeds in the garden, sunny patch out back  who am I kidding, the swamp that is supposed to be a garden. And huge things like the big kids passing their fight test to become certified second degree black belts, wahoo! Toss in church, a hike through the closest woods with Bosley the mud-dog, Carrie having a friend sleep over, actual sunshine to play catch outside in, and apparently a lot of snacks judging by the wrappers and crumbs strewn everywhere. Shake, add more mud, and you pretty much have it. Grandmama helped a ton last week but it already looks like there has been no parental supervision for a week. 

Some idiot (I blame Delores) took too many pictures during the fight test (and the other two tests, as usual) so once I'm done sifting through my own mess I'll get those posted. 

For anyone interested, graduation will be Saturday, May 11, so let us know if you'd like to come see the big kids get their new belts! Liam and Damon have decided they do not wish to continue training right now (here's where you feel free to channel Iago from Disney's Aladdin, "this is me about to die from NOT SURPRISE!") but Carrie really, really wants the sword that comes with your official third degree black belt and since she's working there anyway she might as well keep training. If you need a butt kicked, she's your girl. Haha!

And for all of you, May is right around the blessed corner. I know. Moms everywhere just burst into tears. Remember, May is only one month. School is almost done. Before you know it, all those projects and papers and presentations and book reviews and wax museum days and spring sports and field trips and school lunches will be things of memory. Breathe. You've got this.

And then they will be home all day, but that's another post altogether.

Life with Boys

Life with boys is often surprising. I never know what I'm going to find even in the most mundane of places. For example, while cleaning the kitchen, I found Dada's espresso maker lid hosting a foam bullet:

I turn around to attempt to put things back in the pantry where they belong and "the way is shut":

"Look Mama, he's hugging me!" 

I'm glad you're having a moment. Please get off of the floor.

***

Even right now, I am set up to blog in the guest bedroom where I foolishly hoped I'd be working in peace. I grabbed a mug of Elixir of Magic Beans, the camera, my phone, and the laptop, strode through a single filament of spiderweb (yes, the guest room was used just last weekend but our spiders are very industrious around here and have apparently set up shop again), plunked everything down on the table...

and have had Damon with me more than without me. He's having a meltdown because the iPad is in Carrie's room and she is still sleeping. He wants it because he won this:

How I can hear my Nana chuckling. It seemed she was always winning some door prize or another. If there was one single clothespin tucked under a chair at an event, that's the chair she'd be discovered sitting upon. If there was a lucky ticket number, that'd be the one she'd drawn. It was amazing as a kid to have a Nana who won just about everything.

And now I have That Kid. 

The Gizmo dog is part of the selection of prizes for the elementary school's fundraiser. He claims it's what he would have won had he sold 150 items. He sold six. 

After I drove to the school to pick up said six items, I received a text informing me that he'd won the raffle prize. Could I come pick it up or should they just send it home with him the following day?

Having just a tiny Inkling of Eventualities, I texted back that they could please send it home tomorrow and that it would make his day and thank you.

Did Gizmo the dog make it home safe? You bet. 

His backpack and lunch box remained on the bus.

The following day, yesterday, I sent this note in his lunch:

He did manage to bring home his report card, his lunch box, the original backpack he'd left on the bus.

The second backpack stayed on the bus. 

It's a long weekend because they're hosting conferences at school today.

Lest you think he's the only one, we have yet to see the middle schooler's report card because... well, Life With Boys.

Wednesday

Me: Did you bring your report card home?

Liam: No, I didn't get one. They were passing them out but it was bus time and I had to go.

Me: You mean you didn't get yours. Yours is specific to you, you can't just take any old report card home.

Liam: Right. 

Thursday

Me: Did your report card make it home?

Liam, staring at me like a deer in the headlights: It's in my binder.

Me: Can I see it, please?

Liam: It's at school. In my binder.

Me: Liam, it is a long weekend! We won't even get to see it until Monday?!

Liam: *blink*

Lest you think they are the only ones, I hate to burst your bubble. Miss Carrie is going without her winter coat all this long weekend because it is also at school, but that is a story for another post, believe me. 

She did, however, bring home a report card of straight A's! Your kid gets a part time job AND the best report card of her high school career thus far- who knew?! Good job!

Back to Gizmo. 

We had our conference with Damon's teacher last night and she laughed that he'd asked to take Gizmo out to recess the day he received it. She wisely told him that's not the best choice as it could get broken, and she laughed again when I informed her that Gizmo had made it home safely whereas his backpack did not. 

Of course he is over the moon about this newfangled contraption (sorry, I had to) and once he discovered that it comes with an app where you can feed the dog and tell it how to move, it was all over. Never mind that it already operates on voice command. Telling it to sit, play dead, roll over, go pee pee (and no, I'm not kidding, unfortunately), and whatever the command is for playing and dancing to the music is, no, none of those were enough. 

For two days he's pestered me to add this ridiculous app.

Yesterday:

Damon: Mama! Add it onto the iPad. Please!

Me: Damon, the iPad is out of room and we can't delete anything because you see? There are no little x's. I'm sorry, buddy, there's no room on here.

Damon: *sound of ultimate suffering* Then on your phone?

Me: Not just no.

Damon: Where's the mini iPad? Can we put it on the mini?

Me: We'll have to wait until Carrie comes home because she had it at school with her and now she's at work.

Damon: *more sounds of ultimate suffering* It's not faaaaair!

This morning:

Damon: Can we add it to the mini?

Me: The mini is in Carrie's room and she's still sleeping.

Damon: *wailing* She's going to sleep until karate tonight!

Me: That's ridiculous. No she's not.

Damon: It's not even supposed to be in her room! It's not fair! 

(He's not wrong.)

Me: Why don't you go get some more reading minutes or play with Legos?

Damon: *sound of ultimate suffering*

Me: Or go back to bed...

Drat it all, Nana, this had better not be a sign of things to come!

***

On Monday, Damon's belongings all actually made it home from school. I removed his lunchbox from his backpack and was a bit dismayed to find everything was wet.

Me: Damon, did you take your water bottle to school?

Damon: *distracted* Uh, what? No. Why? What?

Me: Why is your backpack and lunchbox wet?

Damon: Uh...?

The culprit? See that small container of applesauce? The one that wasn't eaten at lunch?

Right at the edge of the spoon you can see the puncture. It exploded just enough applesauce to make a mess.

Now his lunchbox has been washed and is no worse for wear. However, one must always remember to check every pocket of boys' belongings before dumping them into the wash. Look who would have ended up squeaky clean had I not checked the pocket of the lunchbox:

I'd ask plaintively if it was the weekend yet, but one, it obviously is as they are home with me, and two, I'm not sure it'll make it any better because then they're home with me! I'm reminded of the quote from the movie Beetlejuice:

"Because then I will go insane, and I will take you with me!"

Please keep your musings to yourself as to what mischief they'll get up to next. If speaking a thing into being is real, I don't want to have to hunt anybody down!

Adaptation

You know that saying about how men keep everything in separate boxes with tidy labels and the contents of the boxes never, ever touch each other? And how women keep everything in one huge box with all the contents jumbled together, rubbing shoulders and rubbing off onto each other?

Yesterday I told a friend that I felt like my box was taped shut and then rolled down the stairs. 

Not as bad as this but rolled down the stairs? Yes. And no, I claim none of the credit for the movie or the video clip. That is not my box.

I suppose this post is just in case you feel like I'm always sunshine and daisies. While I am probably most of the time, I'm not always. Incidentally, some friends sent me some daisies and they were so cheerful. I was very impressed with their longevity, as well. 

My friends who are moms are some of the most adaptable people I know. Moms seem to be able to roll with the punches in an amazing way. I'm astounded how well things generally happen the way they're supposed to because once you add kids to a mix, you seem to end up with multitudes of schedule changes. Toss some doctors' appointments in there, sprinkle some play dates, oh yes- school conferences, part time jobs, there's a concert when again, and you can have a recipe for disaster. That's not even counting the adulting stuff you have to do like remembering car maintenance appointments, paying bills, getting laundry out of the washer and into the dryer, remembering the stuff we're out of that nobody has put on the list for the second week...

Here's the Moment of Humility: I understand my mother a little better now. 

She used to insist that if it wasn't on the family calendar, it wasn't happening. Drove me CrAzY. How can you be spontaneous if everything has to be written down in advance? Mind you, this was also pre-cell phones, which have completely changed the way people can interact. Gonna be late? Fire that short text saying so. Can't make it? Same thing. 

Pretty much if you have thumbs, everyone else can know the details of why plans are changing. Again.

Which is only part of why I've felt like I'd been in a dryer on the tumble dry setting. 

Last week my surgeon called with pathology results. The left side was completely benign, just dense tissue, which was what we expected, so thank you God for that! The right side had mostly clear margins except for the axillary (armpit) area, which is part of why radiation is still in my future. The tumor was a bit larger (2.5 cm x 1.5 x 1) than the MRI indicated (around 1.8 cm). This is not unusual as the pathology part is very precise whereas things can be a bit more elusive on an MRI. I just learned that, haha, so don't be giving me too much credit. The main tumor's edges were clear. Surgically speaking, we were supposed to be done.

Last Thursday I had my usual every-three-week infusion of Herceptin and Perjeta. I was told I am healing remarkably well. I apparently have an allergy to the nickel that is in some jewelry, as evidenced by an itchy rash around my neck from a necklace I'd worn for the first time a few days previous. My adorable doctor told me I was to inform Dada I needed gold jewelry for Christmas. Okiedokie! Sign me up! 

This Monday I met with the radiation oncologist who also was very pleased with how well I'm healing. It was three weeks to the day since surgery, and he said that radiation usually starts 4-6 weeks afterwards. He said I wasn't quite completely healed, but I looked right on schedule based on what he was seeing. And then he shut his eyes and said, "your port is on the right side." I said, "Yes, I know." He said, "it needs to be on the left side. I'll call your surgeon." I said, "I know he does surgery on Mondays and Fridays." He said, "good, maybe he can get you in on Friday and we can do the simulation* the next week."

Um.

Hiccup.

It's a hiccup. Some of you are yelling, perhaps in your head, "it's another surgery!" Yes. That's true. But it's one I've had before and know what to expect this time around. It's under general anesthesia and that means I can chitchat my way through it like last time and have absolutely no memory of the conversations. I'm truly not worried about it. I don't even remember having to sleep in a chair afterwards the last time. I am going to have the coolest scars when this is all said and done. 

The craziest part is that my shoulder ached more after the port surgery than anything hurt after my bilateral mastectomy. I suppose it's all about the positioning, but I still find it amazing. Again, now I know what to expect!

So I'm waiting for the surgeon's office to call to schedule me. I'm learning that like a watched pot never boils, a cell phone stacked on top of an opened planner never rings. It's okay. It's not a waste; my right side port has performed fabulously for five whole months. Five months of not needing sticked (except for a time or two) in my arms. It's been doing exactly what it was supposed to do, my good and faithful servant. 

I was initially relieved when I found out the port was on my right side. Yes, my seat belt lays directly across it when I'm in the passenger seat, but I drive a fair bit and thought it'd be worse to have it on my left side. Well, now it's going to be on my left side, but initially I hadn't known I'd be using a pillow anyway between the seat belt and my mastectomy incisions, so really it's not going to be a big issue. Whereas my mother and some of my good-things-come-in-small-packages Girlfriends sit on pillows when driving, I shove one under my seat belt.

Waiting is hard, so I get it as to that being one reason I feel so off. Another is scheduling anything around what you're waiting to hear about. Yet another is scheduling just about anything involving other people: a sweet friend from high school let me know through Facebook that there are cleaning services who clean for free if you show evidence from your doctor that you're undergoing treatment. I looked into it, discovered that there was a partner in my general area, gave them a call and set up a time for yesterday. However, life kept moving on and I also had to schedule the radiation oncology appointment for yesterday before the crew would arrive here. During the confirmation call, it became clear that they were coming earlier than expected and in fact while I was to be at the doctor's office, so Dada stayed home late to let them in.

Have I mentioned that our address is being changed over a period of two years from a county address to a city one since we are just inside the city limits? Even though we're not moving? Have I also mentioned how many people that throws off?

Apparently the crew I'd set things up with were looking for the new city address while our mailbox still boasts the numbers for the old address. Being on a tight schedule, they gave up and headed to their next stop- not that I blame them. We were in touch and tried to reschedule for today but their scheduler was dismayed to find that some of them are calling in sick and others are calling in with kids who are sick. I get it. Tis the season for germs, especially with the weather doing it's wacky let's-be-almost-90-and-then-drop-to-freezing-at-night-in-the-span-of-a-week trick. Bleh. We've rescheduled, not a big deal and certainly a first world problem, but the constant schedule/reschedule/"yes, you have to answer the phone sometimes so pull up your big girl panties already" was wearing on me. I'm a Hobbit with Wood Elf tendencies and I like to hermit once it drops below 70. Because it's cold. And I hate talking on the phone. We've covered this already. And emailing is no better as we have had the same email for almost 20 years and there are over 1000 unread emails in there. (And there goes my mother. Hi Mom!)

Again, it's not a big deal. It's a very nice gesture that has been delayed. Happens the world over. Just a hiccup. 

But winter is coming (ha) and I'm already feeling... not grinchy, not yet, but something. Maybe it's the hormones being out of whack because of the chemically/chemotherapy induced menopause. I've been getting angry over things that I should be able to brush off. I feel like all of the Thingz' tempers have been flaring faster than usual, too. Two of them have had either excessively difficult homework or what seems to them to be an overwhelming amount of homework lately, which every parent knows does not merely weigh on the child who does the assignments. Accordingly, we went nowhere and did next to nothing this weekend, partly for recovery reasons and partly because we rarely get to just stay home and play and relax. We needed the sleep and the space. But I don't feel like it restored us like it should have. 

I'm not sure what it is, but I hope it doesn't plan on staying. I feel like I could use a vacation, but I can't schedule anything until I know when the new port surgery will be. And I can't set anything up for the rest of this fall until I know when radiation will be, as in every morning or every afternoon- five days a week for a total of 33 times, which I don't know because that can't start until the surgery is over and I'm healed. 

Ring already, darn it. 

If I'm being completely honest, part of me is wondering if my surgeon is booked into back to back appointments today or if he is hesitating to call because he feels bad for making a mistake-ish. Yes, I realize I'm projecting, but it is possible. Surgeons are people, too, and while many do wonderful work I'm sure they don't all intend to have to do wonderful work twice. Kindness just about kills me, as I've mentioned before, and if he is all apologetic about going through this again, I'm hoping I don't start leaking and make us both feel terrible. Drat that Perjeta anyway. It's hard to have good feelings towards something that is helping save your life on a microscopic and therefore unseen level when the very obvious side effects are watering eyes and the need for Imodium within arm's reach. It seems to be much better than it had been when chemo drugs were also in the mix, thank you Jesus, but I'll hold my breath before I say things are back to normal. 

Ah. I get it now. 

"I hate waiting."

PS Sorry you're hearing about it here first, Mommee & Daddee; I've been trying to keep the dratted phone free! 

PPS Those of you who are participating in the BraBurningParty, it's ON unless you hear otherwise! If you can't make it and want to mail one to be tossed in the fire in your honor, let me know!

*Simulation: you guys, this sounds so cool! Apparently I lay down (lie down? whatever) in something similar to a bean bag chair which molds to me. The doc will put some wires on me that tell the computer to plot out a 3D image of me so that they can pinpoint exactly where the radiation needs to hit. I can't wait! It sounds fascinating! Then there is a verification appointment where they check out how the computer did versus the real me. The doc went over the short terms side effects and the long term ones, they will be discussing skin care because apparently you can't just use any old lotion, and he reminded me that multiple trials have proven that people live longer with radiation treatments than without. I'll have a total of 33 treatments: 28 to the chest wall and lymph nodes and an additional 5 just for my scars. Everything on this medical adventure has been interesting and the more questions I ask the more fascinating it gets. Our bodies are astounding, the science is so cool, and yay God for putting these incredible medical staff in my life when I need them!

I'll take Disbelief for $500, Alex.

This is not a photo that I found taken in November, or even last March. This photo was snapped today. It's February 18th. 

The boys are burying each other in the oak leaves out front because not only is there no snow but it is also dry enough and warm enough out to play in last autumn's leaves. Carrie has been working on her lean-to all weekend. Dada and I dug all the supports out of the big garden out back and took down the Christmas lights that festooned the front porch and picked up sticks that I'd pruned off the apple trees. I thought I'd share the snapshot of the beautiful day today and be all smug about how fresh my whites are going to smell while everyone was busy outside and I had relative peace.

Soon it will be dinner time, but these kids are determined to squeeze out every drop of sunshine and fresh air while they can.

Why do I have a terrible, terrible feeling we are going to get hammered in March?

Unhappy Camper

I didn't fall off Earth, I promise.

There's been a lot of chatter in the Google Help forums about how Picasa (the program I use to organize photos) and Blogger (the host of my blog) are not working together. I have plenty of snowy pictures that I can't show all y'all because the link from Picasa to Blogger isn't working. I get an Error 503 message which essentially translates into, "you're out of luck."

So we'll have to do word pictures instead, never mind that it's been most of the month of January that this technological problem has been going on. Get it together, Google!

Okay, setting my soapbox aside. Now I am going to get it right back out again and do some more blasting.

Mother Nature, enough is enough. While some of us mind snow more than others, not a single person I have talked to or read about or otherwise encountered has had one positive thing to say about these ridiculously cold temperatures. The school children have had longer weekends than school weeks. It is only January, and we're already used up our allotted 5 snow days. At this stage, we have permafrost and tundra going on. Snow dunes. And the wind is enough to probably power the entire Midwest. If I wanted to live in below zero temperatures, I'd move my behind to the north side of Canada. However, I do NOT want to see one more snowflake or experience one more second of temperatures below the freezing point. That Groundhog in Punxy is going to be KEBABS if he says spring is right around the corner and then we get Arctic Blasted again. I think 99.99% of the population is revolted. And we still have February and March to go. Hooray.

For those of you who are blessed to live in warmer climates, let me fill you in on what you're missing. Outside my window right now are sidewalks blown clear of snow in places and heaped in others. The bushes and naked trees appear to be shivering because of the wind that is snaking through them. There are bunny hops and bird prints in the crusty top of the snow. There are icebergs along the driveways and curbs where the plows and shovels have shoved acres of white shroud. It's dazzlingly bright against the clear blue sky. Yesterday and today we've actually had sunshine. The thermometer in my car read -2 when I pulled back into the garage after lunch.

Triskal, with her double-layered coat, dashes outside, sniffs the air, does only what is absolutely necessary, and is back on the step wanting inside before I can even doctor up my cup of coffee. I haven't seen a dog being walked for days.

The kids haven't had school since last Thursday, and I'm not sure if they'll have it tomorrow. There's a planned 2 hour delay already, so at least I know we can all sleep in.

Some of the trees still have their brown, crispy leaves, because it got so cold so fast they didn't have the leisure time to drop them. Talk about shivering out there. They look so brittle that I'm surprised they don't shatter. We've even done the toss-boiling-water-outside-and-watch-it-make-snow experiment. It works.

You know it's bad when your nurse, doctor, receptionist, and other office personnel ALL tell you to be safe driving as you leave their office. You'd have thought I was in a snowmobile. I can only imagine what my best friend's mother and grandmother think as they prepare to leave the house for any reason. It's probably not fit for print, though they are much to well-bred for any of it to leave their mouths. I know that I certainly was glad I didn't have my kids in my car as I cursed out the idiot who passed me as I was passing a car that had its flashers on. Clearly they hadn't watched the same video clip of the massive pile up in Wisconsin on Sunday.

The forlorn Christmas trees are piled at the curb, losing needles on top of the icy crust of sludge. Our cut branches and storm-downed tree litter have been sitting at the curb since October, so only the tops are poking out of a pile that is mid-thigh high. They're probably solidly frozen together.

My pink plastic flamingo had been buried up to its neck earlier, but now it's shuddering and swaying back and forth like it's freezing to death. My garden gnome has given up and is staying down for the count. Maybe he's frozen to the ground as well. I haven't wanted to stay outside long enough to check. I clump out to fill up the bird feeders so that I don't get admonishing looks from the mourning doves and the sparrows and then I clump back in as fast as possible.

Since Rick Warren has declared, "it's not all about you," I guess I can't claim full responsibility for the sheer ridiculousness of the weather. I think I might have had something to do with it, though. I confess. While decorating for Christmas, I used every snowman decoration we own. I hung up the snowman windsock. I displayed the snowmen candles. I propped up the snowman sled from Grandmama.

I never put snowmen out, as a rule. This time I did, and look what happened.

So unbelievably sorry. My bad.

Quiet weekend, we hope...

We hope this will be a peaceful weekend. Liam's nose started running this morning (he was sneezing a lot yesterday) so I'm anticipating cold #989270982364456 of the fall/winter cycle. Roughly. It doesn't help that it is 20 degrees out, and that is no exaggeration. It IS sunny though. YAY! Other than church, I think we'll be staying in and eating. Hehe!

Carrie's been wanting to sleep in Liam's room all week, so we'll let her do that this weekend. Might as well get them sick at the same time, right? Instead of them taking turns and then ganging up on me! Little germ factories. =D

Not too much going on. Just burned all the photos from my camera chip onto a disk, so now I have free camera space. Amazing. Guess I'll have to start documenting the year!

Gonna bake my own birthday cake again next week. So excited! It'll be a butter recipe yellow cake with triple chocolate chip icing... pardon me, Liam just brought me a toy banana that he's making me talk to Nina on... there, it's his turn. "Ah hel-lo? Yeah...a buh-bye." So my cake... gonna make it Tuesday morning and then take it with me to Bible study on Wed. That way the ladies get spoiled and I don't end up with an entire cake to eat by myself since Dada is trying to be good.... weeeee!

Have a good weekend. Stay toasty!