So Tell Me Something About Yourself...

Isn't that the most hated request known? What the hell do you want to know? I like chocolate cake. I'm a lefty. I'd rather go to bed at sunrise than wake up at sunrise.

Tell me something... Don't you wish, when you meet someone new, that you could just forgo that awkward "getting to know you" stage and just hand them a manual that says, "All You Need to Know About Me."

Yeah. I wish that all the fucking time. I took the Myers-Briggs personality test a few years ago. I retake it every once in a while, and it hasn't changed. The results? INTJ. Here is what you need to know. (And I'm going to do a lot of cut and paste, here.)

INTJs apply the criterion "Does it work?" This produces an unusual independence of mind, freeing the INTJ from the constraints of authority, convention, or sentiment for its own sake ... INTJs are known as the "Systems Builders" of the types, perhaps in part because they possess the unusual trait combination of imagination and reliability. Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ's Achilles heel. This happens in part because many INTJs do not readily grasp the social rituals. Perhaps the most fundamental problem, however, is that INTJs really want people to make sense.

INTJs are analytical. They are most comfortable working alone and tend to be less sociable than other types. Nevertheless, they are prepared to lead if no one else seems up to the task, or if they see a major weakness in the current leadership. They tend to be pragmatic, logical, and creative. They have a low tolerance for spin or rampant emotionalism. They are not generally susceptible to catchphrases and do not recognize authority based on tradition, rank, or title.

INTJs are strong individualists who seek new angles or novel ways of looking at things. They enjoy coming to new understandings. They tend to be insightful and mentally quick; however, this mental quickness may not always be outwardly apparent to others since they keep a great deal to themselves. They are very determined people who trust their vision of the possibilities, regardless of what others think. They may even be considered the most independent of all of the sixteen personality types. INTJs are at their best in quietly and firmly developing their ideas, theories, and principles.

Hallmarks of the INTJ include independence of thought and a desire for efficiency. They work best when given autonomy and creative freedom. They harbor an innate desire to express themselves by conceptualizing their own intellectual designs. They have a talent for analyzing and formulating complex theories. INTJs are generally well-suited for occupations within academia, research, consulting, management, science, engineering, and law. They are often acutely aware of their own knowledge and abilities—as well as their limitations and what they don't know. INTJs thus develop a strong confidence in their ability and talents, making them natural leaders.

In forming relationships, INTJs tend to seek out others with similar character traits and ideologies. Agreement on theoretical concepts is an important aspect of their relationships. By nature INTJs can be demanding in their expectations, and approach relationships in a rational manner. As a result, INTJs may not always respond to a spontaneous infatuation but wait for a mate who better fits their set criteria. They tend to be stable, reliable, and dedicated. Harmony in relationships and home life tends to be extremely important to them. They generally withhold strong emotion and do not like to waste time with what they consider irrational social rituals. This may cause non-INTJs to perceive them as distant and reserved; nevertheless, INTJs are usually very loyal partners who are prepared to commit substantial energy and time into a relationship to make it work.

As mates, INTJs want harmony and order in the home and in relationships. The most independent of all types, INTJs trust their intuition when choosing friends and mates—even in spite of contradictory evidence or pressure from others. The emotions of an INTJ are hard to read, and neither male nor female INTJs are apt to express emotional reactions. At times, INTJs seem cold, reserved, and unresponsive, while in fact they are almost hypersensitive to signals of rejection from those they care for.

There you go. Me, in a nutshell.

It's Been AGES!

Since I've posted here!

And boy, oh boy, has lots happened. Most of you follow me on Twitter, so you know all about it. But here's the new stuff.

I'll be moving in the coming months, hopefully before Christmas, but I'm not putting anything in writing. My parents bought us a house, ostensibly giving us our inheritance and when they are around to see us enjoy it. It needs work, and said work is being done, but I've other things going on in my life to devote the time that's needed to make the repairs go faster.

My dad is not 100% free of cancer, yet. YET. There is a nickel-sized shadow on his lung, and his doctor is not completely sure of what it is. There have been tests done, and the doctor is going to wait to actually SEE the tests, not just the written results. But the bottom line is, Dad is not completely done with treatments, yet. And his heart isn't as good as it was. He's have issues with fluid build up, and now, on top of everything else, he has gout. Caused by, presumably, the meds he's on. Oh joy.

My personal life has taken some hits, lately. Everyone who knows me knows I like answers to things, and recently, I don't seem to have any for what has been happening. On the bright side, I've many wonderful, supportive friends, an amazing kid, and a family that knows to let me lick my wounds in peace. I'm not okay, yet, but I'm working on it.

I'm writing again. I've no time frame for when anything will be posted. But all I have to say is, God Bless our soldiers! They've been hitting up my other blog like crazy, and my numbers are going through the roof! They keep me happy, so I'm going to do my best to keep them happy.

Love to all. Talk again soon.

Quotes and Life Lessons

For the most part, I like quotes. I like browsing and reading and finding one or two that encapsulates what I think or feel or even how I behave. They remind me of who I aspire to be and where I've come from and my past mistakes and triumphs.

My Aunt, when I was sixteen, handed me a book entitled, "You Are Not The Target" by Laura Archera Huxley. Not exactly fun reading for a teen-aged girl, but then, I've never been the typical anything. What I basically got out of it were these two bits of information:

The only thing in life I can control is myself.

If I am not the cause of someone's bad mood, I'm not going to take responsibility for it.

The two statements are not direct quotes, at least I don't think they are. They've been in my head and life for so long that I feel like they are more my words than belonging to someone else.

But I do live by these two quotes. I have OCD tendencies when it comes to control, about what it is that I DO have control over. If I hear of something new, for instance, I need to know more about it. Wiki or the dictionary are my first two stops. Personal knowledge is something I can control. If I can't remember a fact or a name or a song, I'll hunt it down until I have it. A friend commented, upon leaving the house without his phone, that he would have felt more comfortable if he'd left his dick at home. I feel that level of uncomfortableness if I'm unable to look something up. That probably qualifies as a OCD tendency.

The second is a bit harder to put into practice; there are a couple people in my life who know just what buttons to push to send me over the edge, but for the most part, I tend to not react when someone is going off the deep end. I've learned to roll things off my shoulders instead of taking an insult or a snide remark personally. Who knows what day that other person is having? I like giving people the benefit of the doubt and figure they are just having a bad day. Some people are just complainers. Some people lash out when they are in pain because they don't know what else to do. I get that and tend to look for reasons for the behavior, rather than the behavior itself. I learn more about others and myself and am healthier emotionally because of it.

Not to say I'm not impulsive at times, I am. Not to say I don't react instead of thinking then acting, I do. I'm not perfect, but this is my life; I only get one, and I like to be happy.

And if you know anything at all about people with an INTJ personality, this makes perfect sense to you.

One Week

What a difference one week makes.

Last Monday, I found Ian's dad on Facebook. There he was, plain as day. A former co-worker had friended me there, and after thinking it over for a couple of days (and one message from her that said, "Hey, remember me...") I friended her. There he was in her Friends list, in plain sight.

I debated - Do I? Don't I? Should I? I was praying for civility but expecting a brush off when I clicked the send button on the short message I composed. The message consisted of... "Hi. It's been a while since we've talked. (Read ten years.) I'd really appreciate it if we could talk soon." That was it. The message.

I got my boy ready for his baseball game, and we didn't get home until close to 8:30 that night. To find five messages from his dad, asking me to contact me. Here is my cell number. Here is my home number.

While I was reading his messages, he opened up a chat in Facebook and said hello. I was literally shaking in my chair. We talked. I cried. Ian was in the living room watching television and I was in the kitchen speaking to his dad. He asked me to call him after I put Ian to bed, and I said I would. We talked for three hours.

On Tuesday, I spoke with Chris during the day. He'd talked to his daughter about Ian, and they both wanted to speak with Ian on the phone. They called that night. Ian is over the moon. He's really, really handling this well, but I think he's a bit shell-shocked, to be honest. I spoke with Chris, then handed the phone to Ian. While he was talking to his dad, Chris' daughter Kylie found me on FB and friended me then started chatting with me, asking if Ian had a FB page, and would I make him one so they could talk. Ian asked to speak to his sister, so Chris and I started chatting on FB. Later, before bed, I was speaking again to Chris on the phone and Ian brought my laptop into my room, where he was chatting with his sister. It was one of the most surreal moments in my life.

On Wednesday, Chris and Kylie showed up at Ian's baseball game. Chris and I had planned on going out to dinner on Friday, so we could see each other and I could emotionally prepare myself for Chris and Ian meeting. But Kylie was to be with her mom this weekend, and she didn't want her dad to meet her brother before she got the chance to. Again, I shook. I had to work the concession stand that night, and it was a darn good thing - I needed the distraction. They came back to the house after the game, and Ian and Kylie were as thick as thieves. For our part, it felt like those ten years disappeared, like we were never apart. I don't know how that happened, but it just did.

On Thursday there was another phone call. On Friday there was dinner and drinks for Chris and I. We talked. We connected. We talked some more. He came back to the house and we watched a movie with Ian and my sister. Ian asked his dad to sleep over, and he agreed. (He and I had already agreed.) Chris helped me put Ian to bed. In the morning, they played Wii. That night, Chris came to dinner. He brought new smoke alarms for the house, ingredients for a sausage dip for my sister to try, and a WWII book and Playstation 2 game for Ian.

On Sunday, Chris called me at 9:30 in the morning, asking if I would bring Ian over for the day. I didn't pick him up until almost 8:00 that night.

In one week, Ian went from never seeing his dad to having one, to meeting and hanging out with a sister he never knew about (I'd told him, but he didn't remember), to making camping plans and being given a new bike (Chris bought Ian a new bike because all the kids on his street were riding theirs and Ian didn't have one) and the hint that he might be getting a gun for Christmas.

In one week, I went from being a single mom raising a child on her own, worrying and wondering and hoping and dreading the day Ian would meet his dad, to being amazed at learning all the mannerisms my son has that come from his dad, knowing he looks even more like his sister than I thought possible, to knowing that I'm no longer his only parent. To realizing all the forms that now have to be filled out with Chris' information for the next school year...

One fucking week has changed my life forever.

Too Good To Be True... Or Is It?

I took my son to my parents today for a visit with my mom for Mother's Day. While she was opening her cards, she reached out, swatted my dad on the arm and said, "Tell her the good news."

Late last year my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was a small lesion on the perimeter of his upper, left lobe that grew before treatment could begin. He was initially told he wasn't a candidate for surgery, but a different doctor told him he was. The day before he was to be operated on, he was told the surgery was canceled; his other medical conditions made surgery too risky. An entire month had been wasted on tests and x-rays only to have the same conclusion drawn. A month when he could have been receiving treatment but was instead becoming more and more stressed out.

In the end, the month wasn't entirely wasted; we learned of another condition that my father had that we had to worry about. Luckily, it's a treatable condition.

So, my mom swatted my dad, and my dad turned to me, smiled, and began telling me that he'd an appointment today with his doctor at the cancer center to review the x-rays that had been taken on Monday. In the radiologist's report it was noted that the tumor appeared to have been removed surgically. No more tumor. NO MORE TUMOR!!

This was only the preliminary report. My dad will have more tests, including an MRI and PET Scan.

My dad hadn't been a candidate for surgery, the best course of treatment for cancer. Neither had he been a candidate for chemotherapy. He was left with radiation. Not the best option, but the best one available to him. And it worked!

I cried when he told me. I cried when I called my sister to tell her and cried harder when she started crying. I hugged my dad and cried. I hugged my mom and we cried together.

Any one of us could die at any moment, for any reason. Just because my dad is, for the moment, cancer free does not mean his other health issues can be brushed aside. But it means that, for this moment at least, that my dad will not be dying of cancer.

Thank you, Jesus, for hearing and answering our prayers. I owe ya.

On Belief...

I was born and raised a Catholic. I'm raising my son as a Catholic, as well. Am I religious? Not especially, no. Do I believe and follow everything the Catholic Church teaches? Outside of religious doctrine - no. The purpose of the papacy, for example was to continue spreading the word of Jesus throughout the world. And throughout the last two thousand years (making it the world's oldest organization), it has done precisely that. By far, I believe the Catholic Church has done far more good than bad for the world.

The church's main job, in my opinion, is to continue teaching the world about Jesus. Along the way, it felt itself important enough to tell us how to live our lives. In as how to live the way Christ wants us to live, yes, that should be included. The Church points to the Ten Commandments, first. But if you look at almost every civilization, no matter where and when on the world time line, there is a code of conduct that every civilization followed. Don't kill. Respect your elders. Don't take what isn't yours, and don't want what isn't yours to the point it's going to make you do something stupid - either be content with what you have or work harder for something more. Does it say premarital sex is bad? No, it says honor your commitments. Does it say birth control is wrong? No. And I am sure there have been methods of birth control being practiced since women learned to walk and talk.

However, lest us forget, the Catholic organization is made up of men, and no man is perfect. There have been married popes, warrior popes and just plain bad popes. There have been horrific atrocities - the Crusades and Spanish Inquisition, to name but a few. Regarding the sexual abuse scandals being made around the world, what these men did is horrible, it is wrong, and the Church should own up to it's responsibility. Is it the Church's fault that some priests are pedophiles? No, it is not. It is wrong to let them stay in positions of trust, however. These abuses did not start in the 20th century. The only difference between now and five hundred years ago is that now people are no longer afraid of protecting themselves instead of the Church and are pointing fingers at priests for their wrongdoing.

It is hard to teach my son to respect the Church when it has lost so much respect for itself, but I still believe in the religion it teaches. I still believe in the sanctity of Sunday mass and the sacraments of penance and communion. The reason that Easter is my favorite holiday is because it is the most important in the Catholic religion - it is the reason for its very existence. The joy, the solemnity and the power of Christ all come together on Easter Sunday.

But I remind myself and my son that no one is perfect and everyone, including priests and even Popes, can and do, make mistakes. The words accountability and responsibility are big in my home. My son knows what they mean and how they should shape is actions and decisions. It's been a long time since I talked with my cousin, a Catholic priest, about his years in the seminary. They teach what the job of a priest is, but I wonder how much time is spent on HOW to do the job; how to hold yourself accountable, how to self-discipline yourself. How do you reaffirm and re-evaluate the choices you've made. Do priests now get continuing education? Do they still participate in retreats? I don't know. But I think it's important to find out. It is good to be held accountable for your actions. It's what the Catholic church teaches, after all. Self-determination.

And I'm still a Catholic.

Barney Songs

Sung to "This Old Man"

I hate you, you hate me, Barney is my enemy.
AK47 through the floor, no more purple dinosaur.

AND

I love you, you love me, Barney is my enemy.
Put a shotgun to his head, pull the trigger and Barney's dead.

Sung to "Joy to the World"

Joy to the world, Barney is dead.
We barbequed his head!
What happened to the body?
We flushed it down the potty!
And round and round it goes, and round and round it goes.
And round it goes, and round it goes!

Thanks to Ian!

States I've Visited

I like this :)


visited 16 states (32%)
Create your own visited map of The United States

My Favorite Words

I have two lists of favorite words. The first list of words is small, and it contains words that are fun to say. I like the way my mouth feels when I sound the words.  I love the shapes my mouth has to make in order to pronounce those words.

Veritable.

Malleable.

The words on the second list are also fun. They appeal to me because of the way I feel when I say them.  One part of the list is empowering; they make me feel strong and in control. Another part just makes me feel good, I like what they are.  All of the words on this list are Hard "c" words; either begin or end with the letter "c."

The empowering words only became so within the past couple of years. Before then, they were taboo or bad or naughty or dirty. They weren't spoken out loud or in mixed company, either by a man or woman. But using them; saying them and writing them gave me power over them, instead of holding power over me. They are only words, after all. a string of letters. But I control these words. They mean what I want them to mean, stand what I want them to stand for and convey an image I am projecting.  These words will never embarrass me or make me feel small or cheap or somehow worth less than full measure.

Cunt

I've written a post about this word already, but let me tell you, I still take great, great pleasure in using this word; in pronouncing it, using it in stories, saying it during private times and when I'm pissed off.

Cock
Fuck (admittedly, probably my favorite word)
Dick
Clit
Rock
Soak
Spank
Suck

Some of these words came into my vocabulary when I began writing again, eighteen months ago. Yep, eighteen months. That's it. This isn't the entire list of empowering words, but the most prevalent.

Other words include

CARS -  I LOVE fast cars!
Cash
Cookies
Coke
Crayons
Candy
CAPtain Morgan
VodKa (okay, it's actually a K; fucking sue me, I still like the way it makes me feel and it's my list!)
music

There are others, but seriously,  those words make me smile and feel happy.  They are good words. And they're mine.

What are your words?

Today's Gripe

I don't know why I feel I must bitch so much, but here's today's gripe.

I need to put together a grocery list and go food shopping. I love going food shopping. I know, that sounds weird, but there was a time in my life when going grocery shopping was a luxury and most of my food came from either my parents' house or the food pantry at the local church. It was only for a couple of months and it happened years and years ago, but the fear of not having food in the house is still real to me, even though my circumstances are radically different. Grocery shopping is something I do not take for granted, and it is not a chore.

My gripe for today: I need to go grocery shopping and I'm not sure that if I do, I'll not be completely wiped out when I'm done. I hate being wiped out more than I love going grocery shopping. That should tell you something, well, a couple of things. The MS is still impacting my daily life and I'm not completely back on my feet again. Neither of which I'm happy about.

Need to work out a Plan B. *grabbing paper and pen*

New Neighbors

I live in a town home, or, if you are from the Northeast portion of the US, a row home. I've neighbors on either side of me. I've lived here for nine years, and I love my home. It is warm and welcoming and while it is old and not everything is perfect, it is my home.

Over the past nine years, I've seen neighbors moving in and out. The neighbors that were here when I got here were unbelievably great - they were more than patient with my son (who was one year old and felt he had an open invitation to everyone's home) who was active and adventurous. (Read that to mean mimicking gymnasts and circus performers.)

The elderly neighbor on my right eventually moved in with her son and daughter in law, and the other outgrew their home and moved into something bigger. Since then, it's been a series of mishaps and misadventures. Some neighbors were worse than others, but the last to leave were, by far, the worst I ever encountered, anywhere. I called them my "ghetto neighbors." A term not meant to belittle one's socio-economic background, but simply used because I couldn't think of a bad enough name that I could call them around my child.

The mother frequently (read all the time) called her two daughters, then ages three and one, "little bitches." As they got a little older, she moved on to "you little motherfuckers." She would leave them unattended upstairs while she did god-knows-what, then scream at them when they got into her make-up, which they did frequently.  She screamed and cursed and threatened to leave them and the guy she lived with. We're talking a true basket case. The guy was only slightly better, but then he went to jail for a year.

I've new neighbors now. They seem normal. They are quiet, their children are behaved and they dress appropriately. The neighbor on the left is a single mom of two kids, a daughter eleven and a little boy, one. He's a doll!

New neighbor on the right has a daughter who's three. One thing to note about right-hand neighbor; she, too, has MS. A much worse case than mine since her speech has been effected and she must walk with a cane. She can't drive. She knows I have MS and how she found out that tidbit of information, I'm not sure; it's not something I talk about.

When my son asked me about her physical condition, I explained to him that she has MS. He became frightened, which is understandable. I wanted to reassure him that I wasn't going to develop other symptoms and wind up with her disabilities, but I couldn't. And that broke my heart. But at the same time, I did tell him that I am healthy and I take care of myself and whatever happens, our lives will still  be good. He's been extra clingy, but I expect it to pass soon.

All I can say is, I think this summer is going to be interesting. I'm just hoping it's in a good way.

Music

Music has always been a part of my life; I don't remember a time when it wasn't. While my mom likes music, it was and is my dad that is the big influencer in our house. There were church hymns on Sunday morning, Jim Reeves and Pasty Cline on Saturday nights. There were Polish Kolendy (Polish Christmas carols) and music lessons for years. My mother's contributions were Unchained Melody and Irish songs in honor of St. Patrick's Day.

I grew up listening to everything and anything - from obereks to concertos. Today, my son is carrying on the musical tradition. While my brother first learned music on an accordion (and don't laugh, you've no idea how hard it is to play) which he mastered in three years before moving on to first the electric guitar and finally the acoustic, my son has started on the clarinet. He asked for a guitar for his last birthday, which we bought for him. My brother will teach him, and I'm curious to see how patient they are going to be with each other.

For my son's part, he loves hard rock - Ozzy, AC/DC, Breaking Benjamin and hip hop - Jay Sean, Ludacris, and Trey Songz.  He also likes Black Eyed Peas and Bon Jovi. His favorite song, though, is Classical Gas, and he often logs on to YouTube to find classical guitar videos.  He appreciates music in all forms, and he's not shy about it. He even goes to sleep listening to music, much like I did at his age.

I'll not be making any Top Five lists or tell you why I like certain songs; my taste is too eclectic and a song I love this month I might be sick of by next month. (The fabulous @karenbrand is thinking of doing just this, and I'm dying to read her blog! You can find it here: http://themadnessofginggorge.blogspot.com/ )

But for this month, this is my son's favorite song:





While this song is mine (for the moment, anyway):

I'm Annoyed

For the next couple of weeks, I'm going to be annoyed.  I'm going to be cranky and short-tempered and impatient.

Thirteen years ago I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). It was confirmed by MRI with my very first exacerbation. At that time, I was told I've a very mild case and in all likelihood, if I didn't tell anyone I have it, no one would guess. And in thirteen years, I've had four exacerbations. Four in thirteen years is a damn fine track record, let me tell you.

The first time, the right side of my face was partially numb. At first, my doctor thought it was Bells Palsy and referred me to a neurologist, where I was diagnosed with the MS. But that was it, just my face. Scary, to be sure. But it didn't hurt. It's not like I lost muscle use. It just felt like Novacain that hadn't totally worn off.

The second "flare up," as I call it, was the worst. I made it worse by freaking out about it, to be honest. My left leg was affected that time. I could still walk, it just felt weak and a little heavier than normal. I didn't notice anything was wrong until I went to pick up my foot to tie my shoe and I kept missing the handrail I was aiming for. (At the time, I worked in a health care facility where handrails were abundant). Four days later the ball of my left foot was a little numb, my shin was tingling, and I was a basket case. I was on neurological pain meds, sleeping pills and steroids. I swore I would never be like that again.

 Since then, I've learned how to manage and control myself. I no longer get mad at my body for not being able to keep up. I know I'll not be able to do marathon shopping sprees. I can't window shop. Other than that, not much stops me.

The third flare up affected my leg again, milder than the previous one. I didn't even see the neurologist. I didn't miss time from work.

This time is a little different because something new is involved, my arms. Let me stress this again. I've a very, VERY mild case. I'm typing, for instance. A small portion of my right hand feels slightly numb. My left arm feels a little weak. What I'm having a harder time with is fatigue, the most common and debilitating affect of MS. I'm tired. I'm really, really tired. In the past it's felt like I'd worked a 16-hr. shift by 10:00 am. I've been afraid to drive. This isn't as bad as that, but I'm tired.

What do I do? I rest. I have my books and my iPod and laptop and my bed and my recliner. I sometimes sleep, but mostly I read. I relax. Is this what I want to do? Fuck no. It's gorgeous outside! I want to start cleaning the flower beds. I want to clean the lawn furniture. I want to hose off the balcony. There are a thousand things I'd rather do than kick back in the recliner.

Had this happened in January, I'd have been happier than a pig in shit, so to speak. I'd have an excuse to stay put! Now, I'm irritated.

I know in a couple of weeks I'll feel fine, again. Until then, I'm not going to be quite myself.

You've been warned. ;)

me

PS. If you follow me on Twitter and start treating me differently, I'm going to unfollow your ass.

Daddy Update

First, I have to say Thank you. A million and one thank yous. To everyone who has asked on Twitter and has left a comment, you've been supportive and helpful and I'm amazed at your generous heart. My dad is constantly surprised when I tell him someone has asked about him, has said a prayer for him, is thinking of him. I know it sounds stupid and it's absurdly cliched, but my heart swells when you ask me about him, ask how he's doing. I keep everything locked up inside. I am more than willing and able to share happy news, but talking about painful things.... well, that's not me.

So here is an update to Dad.

Dad has half-way through his first round of radiation therapy; he has 18 more to go. Because of his other health issues, he is not able to receive high doses of radiation. This is why his first course is longer. Advance, retreat. Advance, retreat.

This is the honeymoon period of his cancer treatment, when he looks good and feels good and is optimistic. The reality of his cancer will hit us with the results of his tests after the first course has been completed.

I'm not expecting to hear the cancer is gone. I'm not expecting to hear there has been a marked decrease in size.

I'm praying that I hear the tumor hasn't grown. Stopping the growth is success, to me. You have to stop it before you can reverse it or kill it or get rid of it or whatever the correct terminology is. I only know I'm praying that I don't hear that it's bigger.

We've been spending a lot of time together, and I don't mean just the two of us. I mean my son makes a point to call them more often, even though we only live three blocks away. He sleeps at their house more often. (Granted, it's the only place he's allowed to go when he's grounded, but that's another story).

This past weekend I'd a dinner for my aunt's 79th birthday (his sister). The weather was perfect, the food was awesome (patting self on shoulder) and dessert, the birthday cake, goes by the name Spectacular Orange.

We sat around the dining room table long after the meal was finished and most of the cake, as well. We talked. We laughed. We played musical chairs as we moved from conversation to conversation. It was better than Christmas and Thanksgiving rolled into one because we were celebrating not just my aunt's birthday, but my dad being able to enjoy it, as well. (And yes, there was rum involved).

Easter breakfast and dinner will be at my house, and Daddy has already put in his request for dessert - a dry-bottom shoe-fly pie. (It's cake and pie in one. Don't knock it until you try it)! And since I've announced that instead of going out to dinner for birthdays, I'll have family dinners instead, my dad has also put in a request for his birthday dessert (his birthday is April 24). He wants a lemon sponge pie. (He likes pie).

I'm thankful that he's looking forward to things, and not just the test results.

Wordle

I'm a big fan of words. And Twitter. So, combining them makes me very, very happy :)

(You can click on the picture for a larger image).




This one is without names. Still fun to read!

Update - Please Read

Over the past few weeks, I've seen an explosion of new activity to my blog for which I am tremendously grateful. My readership has gone through the roof, and I am humbled by the attention the blog has been receiving.

However, I realize not all my readers want to read my stories or wade through the story entries to get to my personal updates. It is for this reason that I have created a new blog. On here, I will post entries about me - boring or mundane as they may be.

I hope you enjoy what you read; I hope it gives you some insight as to who I am and what interests me. Please feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like.

And as always, you can find me on Twitter; my username is @daria67

Control

My dad has lung cancer.

It's hard just writing that sentence, but it's even harder living with what it means. When he was first diagnosed, we were told that surgery wasn't an option given his other medical issues; neither was chemotherapy. But since the tumor is small, we were told, radiation was a good option and there was a high probability that he'd recover completely.  It seemed as if all of his other medical issues were so much worse than the cancer, that the cancer would be a walk in the park.  That's how the doctors made is sound - treatable, with a high probably of full recovery. In contrast, his congestive heart failure and diabetes were much more to be concerned about.

Superbowl Afterthoughts

Just like everyone else last night, I tuned in to watch the Superbowl. I love football, and it doesn't matter which teams are playing (usually). I love the game - the frustrations, the big plays, the turnovers and upsets, the rushing, the passing, the blocking, the Quarterback Sneak and the Hail Mary pass. All of it. Don't get me wrong, I'd like for the Philadelphia Eagles to win the Superbowl just one time, it's just I've pretty much given up hope that Donovan McNabb is going to take us there. But I digress...

Recipe for Chicken Rice Soup

The are very few things I like about cold weather. Football is one. Cuddling on the sofa while watching football is another. If there is soup, it's a winning day, no matter what!