So, all the ITs, the tangerine size, the golfball size, and the hey, I have no match on the other side size are all the same size as 3 months ago. Since they aren't going away, but are staying the same size, Dr. Erika with a "k" is 99% sure we're ok, but still wants to look again in 3 more months. Will do, I say, and then if the one with no match is still there, it will become a dimple in my flesh (as if I don't have enough of those already).
Meanwhile, I've started a new venture, am getting ready for a super exciting family vacation, and am seriously enjoying the girls new school and all the activities/playdates/Parents Night Out (whut, whut??!!) and living life to the fullest!
Thanks to all for continued prayer and we'll know more just in time for Santa-I am making a request for no lumps of any kind to be left in my stocking, I have enough:)
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Boob Update
Thank you for all the continued prayers concerning the lump I have affectionately labeled IT. I don't know if I even posted about the last checkup, 3 months ago, where IT had spawned little IT's more fibrous in nature than the original IT. So, tomorrow is the 3 month checkup to hopefully make a decision as to how to handle all these IT's. If you say that fast, it sounds like zits...I digress. I don't have an appointment time, they are going to randomly call me when she's in between slicing other people open, I hope she uses a good disinfectant soap.
My tummy's a bit in knots, so I hope that's like stage fright and means all will be peachy king.
Will post results after I'm home from the rub down rendezvous...
My tummy's a bit in knots, so I hope that's like stage fright and means all will be peachy king.
Will post results after I'm home from the rub down rendezvous...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Microwave Oven Light
I'm crabby for no ostensible reason this evening, except for the stress of a new school year starting and one of our mortgage payments not getting processed due to the greed of another exec at TB&W. But that's life. Today a friend of mine facebooked how much she missed her dad as today would have been another birthday for him. That's real life, important life.
My crabbiness rarely stays inside me very well. Usually little mini crabs creep out even though as I see a leg poking out and try to crush it, it somehow hurries to the point of no turning back and shapow, its out there ready for hot butter sauce, a plastic bib with a picture of a lobster on it, and a wet chin.
So after I picked shell shrapnel off my favorite chin and cleaned him up with the wetnap, I walked into the dark kitchen to put a cup into the dishwasher. I couldn't see and to avoid yet another bruising, since I always seem to run into the stove handle, I Helen Kellered my way to the microwave oven light. I thought it had one, wasn't sure, thought I was going to defrost whatever the large children had splattered in there today, when bam-there was light. And then a memory. A memory so clear that I was taken somewhere so far away in space and time and yet nowhere.
Several memories actually. Of that little kitchen light. My Grandma Nina (pronounced like nine) would always leave that welcome light on above her sink in case we had to brave the stairwell for a midnight porcelain rendezvous. My Grandma Cade would also leave some kind of "go towards the light" shine, but I think hers was to catch the pre-dawn snackers. There was a family my brother, sister, and I stayed with in Oklahoma while our parents went on a retreat. The dad was the pastor of the Church of Christ in town and I remember they had a kum-buy-ya guide "So ya'll can git a drink if ya git thirsty".
How does that happen? How does one touch of a button transport you to light bulb heaven?
Will my legacy have touches, smells, and sensations that brings them to say "Hi Grandma, I miss you."?
Not if these mini crabs keep escaping. Maybe I'll nuke em in the micrawave and we'll have patata salad and biskits with em tamaraw.
That's important life. Legacies that bring warm fuzzies. And to Grandma Chapman, this is Susie. Thank you for leaving me your quick to laugh, bald, toothless, garage saling on a three wheeled bike, bacon frying legacy. My times with you and your kitchen light were priceless. I miss you.
My crabbiness rarely stays inside me very well. Usually little mini crabs creep out even though as I see a leg poking out and try to crush it, it somehow hurries to the point of no turning back and shapow, its out there ready for hot butter sauce, a plastic bib with a picture of a lobster on it, and a wet chin.
So after I picked shell shrapnel off my favorite chin and cleaned him up with the wetnap, I walked into the dark kitchen to put a cup into the dishwasher. I couldn't see and to avoid yet another bruising, since I always seem to run into the stove handle, I Helen Kellered my way to the microwave oven light. I thought it had one, wasn't sure, thought I was going to defrost whatever the large children had splattered in there today, when bam-there was light. And then a memory. A memory so clear that I was taken somewhere so far away in space and time and yet nowhere.
Several memories actually. Of that little kitchen light. My Grandma Nina (pronounced like nine) would always leave that welcome light on above her sink in case we had to brave the stairwell for a midnight porcelain rendezvous. My Grandma Cade would also leave some kind of "go towards the light" shine, but I think hers was to catch the pre-dawn snackers. There was a family my brother, sister, and I stayed with in Oklahoma while our parents went on a retreat. The dad was the pastor of the Church of Christ in town and I remember they had a kum-buy-ya guide "So ya'll can git a drink if ya git thirsty".
How does that happen? How does one touch of a button transport you to light bulb heaven?
Will my legacy have touches, smells, and sensations that brings them to say "Hi Grandma, I miss you."?
Not if these mini crabs keep escaping. Maybe I'll nuke em in the micrawave and we'll have patata salad and biskits with em tamaraw.
That's important life. Legacies that bring warm fuzzies. And to Grandma Chapman, this is Susie. Thank you for leaving me your quick to laugh, bald, toothless, garage saling on a three wheeled bike, bacon frying legacy. My times with you and your kitchen light were priceless. I miss you.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Holy Hunch
Today we made it to bible study a little more on time, but still the last one there. I love how each bible study group has a different vibe to it. Some laugh more, some cry more, some define the term "pregnant pause", some resist being personal, others have "tmi" coming out their gills. This "come when you can" group on forgiveness is in the middle. Definitely more serious than some, but thanks to the leader, kept struggling along to embrace the concept of mercy today. So, when asked the question how do you know when to start to trust someone or reconcile with them and what if that can never happen, the lady 2 chairs down from me blurts out "You gotta use your Holy Hunch!". Ok. Hold the phone. Did she just say Holy Hunch? I knew what she meant...instinct, heeby geebies, toxic people that can't be trusted until proven otherwise-trust me, I could write the book on what that could look like, now I have a chapter title. Instead of nodding my head and ignoring this fantabulous slogan I almost blew spit at the lady across from me. I was going to lose it. I looked at everyone else in the group for some kind of laughing confirmation, I was completely denied of that satisfaction. Holy Hunch. I crossed my legs. I smilingly wrote H-squared in my book. I contemplated my adulthood at the moment. I thought of funerals. Nothing worked. I kept thinking of Crunch-n-Munch. Eat some Crunch-n-Munch while you ponder your Holy Hunch. That would be my jingle for the awkwardness of composing myself in this group of learning to forgive hot mamas. Do they even make Crunch-n-Munch anymore? I'll have to check at my 80th trip to Wal-Mart. I am struggling with the harmony though, suggestions welcome...
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Come When You Can
I signed up for the "come when you can" summer bible study on forgiveness. I missed the first one due to summer camp schedules and showed up 30 minutes late to today's. I almost didn't go...almost, then C says mom, let's go check it out. That was brave considering the last time she went to a "come when you can", she ended up hiding under a table crying, and eating an undetermined amount of cheese slices to coax her out....good times.
So, we show up, all 4 of us and I didn't want to go in. My hair is icky, I smell from switching to non anti-perspirant deodorant, and I've been with kids non stop for 12 days and counting. Not a good time to be late and have all 24 eyes glance at me politely as they move their chairs to the side to make way for the late one.
The leader asked someone to read the scripture, got me a book, and a slew of pencils for some kind of unknown marking system to show the importance of who was talking when. It was confusing, the conversation was not.
The author was talking about how Joseph, after 22 years, had forgiven his brothers for selling him into slavery. I've never been sold into anything, except maybe Amway, and my mom used to say she would sell me for a barrel of monkeys and shoot the monkeys, and I remember my dad couldn't wait for me to go to college/sell me into college so my room could be turned into an office. I showed him, I went to college and one-upped him, I got married. Had he not moved and divorced my mom, I guess he would have had his office.
I don't know, this whole idea of forgiveness is tough. Just when I think I have forgiven the people that have hurt me, something will happen to bring up all those unwanted and confusing feelings. Joseph wept. He wept so loud they called it wailing and said the people in the city could hear him. I know that cry.
What I don't know is how to begin to trust those that I have forgiven. Joseph ended up not only trusting, but taking care of his brothers and their families. How did that happen? He focused on the Healer. The One that mends unmendable fences. What I love and yet find so frustrating at the same time, is that it took 22 years. It was a process, both a figurative and literal journey.
A polite chick with great hair and a nice tan brought up the fact that forgiveness does not always equal reconciliation. That's where I'm stuck. I want the reconciliation and if you could be so kind as to give it to me yesterday, that would be great. I want the good times. The forgiveness is on me, that's my part. In our little family, when someone offends the other we apologize and the injured party says I forgive you. When decades of dysfunction and hidden agendas and lies and hurt feelings come to play, the bases are loaded but it seems everyone that comes to bat strikes out. I am tired of striking out. I want to call a tie, shake hands, and have a beverage. I'm sure Joseph wanted that as well, but God had more in store for him. So instead of reconciliation, I am going to focus on restoration. A restoration of my soul focusing on the Healing one that doesn't want me to only "come when I can", but wants me to come all the time, first and always.
Susan wept.
So, we show up, all 4 of us and I didn't want to go in. My hair is icky, I smell from switching to non anti-perspirant deodorant, and I've been with kids non stop for 12 days and counting. Not a good time to be late and have all 24 eyes glance at me politely as they move their chairs to the side to make way for the late one.
The leader asked someone to read the scripture, got me a book, and a slew of pencils for some kind of unknown marking system to show the importance of who was talking when. It was confusing, the conversation was not.
The author was talking about how Joseph, after 22 years, had forgiven his brothers for selling him into slavery. I've never been sold into anything, except maybe Amway, and my mom used to say she would sell me for a barrel of monkeys and shoot the monkeys, and I remember my dad couldn't wait for me to go to college/sell me into college so my room could be turned into an office. I showed him, I went to college and one-upped him, I got married. Had he not moved and divorced my mom, I guess he would have had his office.
I don't know, this whole idea of forgiveness is tough. Just when I think I have forgiven the people that have hurt me, something will happen to bring up all those unwanted and confusing feelings. Joseph wept. He wept so loud they called it wailing and said the people in the city could hear him. I know that cry.
What I don't know is how to begin to trust those that I have forgiven. Joseph ended up not only trusting, but taking care of his brothers and their families. How did that happen? He focused on the Healer. The One that mends unmendable fences. What I love and yet find so frustrating at the same time, is that it took 22 years. It was a process, both a figurative and literal journey.
A polite chick with great hair and a nice tan brought up the fact that forgiveness does not always equal reconciliation. That's where I'm stuck. I want the reconciliation and if you could be so kind as to give it to me yesterday, that would be great. I want the good times. The forgiveness is on me, that's my part. In our little family, when someone offends the other we apologize and the injured party says I forgive you. When decades of dysfunction and hidden agendas and lies and hurt feelings come to play, the bases are loaded but it seems everyone that comes to bat strikes out. I am tired of striking out. I want to call a tie, shake hands, and have a beverage. I'm sure Joseph wanted that as well, but God had more in store for him. So instead of reconciliation, I am going to focus on restoration. A restoration of my soul focusing on the Healing one that doesn't want me to only "come when I can", but wants me to come all the time, first and always.
Susan wept.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Bye-Bye 2nd & 3rd grade!!!
This post is a bit behind, but since the sun is finally shining and summer is getting upon us I want to make sure we have recollections of the last school year!
This was our family's first experience in a brand new charter school, Providence Hall in Herriman, Ut (the girls told me to be sure to put the state so we remembered where we live:).
With the charter school experience came uniforms and the IB curriculum. This year was a pivotal year for both, but C especially, who flourished under the direction of Miss Collett! R experienced an attachment to Miss Bevans and a profound sadness at the end of the year that only a Little Mermaid summer acting camp could counter!
The following are some highlights....
Favorite school project: Tree Art & Plays
Favorite subjects:
C-Writing, Math, Art
R-Math
Least favorite activity/subject: Centers because they're boring...
Favorite pals:
C-Megan & Mary
R-Laura & Abby
New things they tried:
C-Hip-Hop!
R-Ears Pierced!
Things they liked to eat this year:
C-bananas & pizza
R-Smarties
Favorite activity:
C-Ice Cream Party
R-Playdates
One thing they both are looking forward to this summer-Camp Wilson!!!
8 more weeks and we'll be experiencing the joys of 3rd & 4th grades!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Dinner Unserved & Already Ruined
Since I have backed off a lot of activity, and when I say activity-I mean work....I have had more time at home to be more overwhelmed by never ending laundry and to try to actually cook dinner-HA! Am I the only one that preps for a meal knowing full well that the one preparing (me) is the only one that will enjoy the tasty morsels that have taken 3 trips to the grocery store (one of them located in Nevada) to prepare for? I know my Big Game will most likely have to make a Carl's Jr run and/or sport an emergency nacho after nodding over how its not the worst thing he's eaten. Why then am I still preparing it? I am pmsing for one and feeling orinery. Yet I am at odds with how much energy I'm putting into it when I am pretty sure I know the end result. So, if anyone wants rice noodles, water chestnuts, brocoli, carrot shreds with sesame steak sauteed and served with a side of scrumptious Oriental salad let me know I'll save you some-I'm sure there will be PLENTY of leftovers (insert pix of horns holding up my halo here):)
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