Yeah..Happy New Year and Junk

I want to be sunshine-y.
I do.
I said I DO.

Trouble is, I don't feel sunshine-y. I feel a little like...
Smog. Mixed with a little acid rain.

This Christmas was suck-ariffic with my mom in the hospital, being tortured by the side effects of the chemo medicine already in her system.

Second worst Christmas on record. And people wonder why I am a grinch.

Anyway, the holidays are over and the new year is here. But my mom is still in the hospital, and still feels like crap. She is napping now, and I am happy she is resting. But I wish she could eat more and not feel un-sunshiny.

So I feel like smog.

I could give two shits about people's resolutions to exercise more, eat Paleo or stop doing crack. (Ok, the last one would be good, carry on).

I just want my mom to get better and get the hell out of here. I want to see my mom pissed off and raging against the effects of this miserable shit she is enduring, even if that means she yells a little. Even at me, eek. What I don't want is her to feel sad and helpless. Because that makes me feel sad and helpless. And smoggy.

I want to stop wearing this fucking face mask, which makes it hard to breathe, or to eat cookies.

Although I manage.

So...sunshine-y? Not me, not today.
Soon.

Until then, I have cookies.

If Wishes Were Layers....

Hello from the Layers, Gangnam holiday style! 

I am dancing under this sweater.

My BFF-pal Munch has tagged me in a neverending-pay-it-forward blog-a-palooza where I am pressured requested to write about 5 wishes I have for Christmas. 

But, here's the thing: 
((whispering)) I don't believe in wishing. 

My swami, Pema Chodron talks a lot about how hope/wishing is really futile since we have to experience what we will experience in our lives without avoidance or wishing it were different or hoping it would be better soon. 

Yes, seriously. 

(Don't judge, read all about my experience with leaning into the sharp points HERE..then love me more and then come back)

Special Agent is somewhere rolling his eyes at this, although he *tries* to get me. He would say the reason I don't wish is due to one of my layers he calls Spock. WHat?? A Willie Wonka comparison a few months ago and now Spock? 

I will admit to being a little overly logical and realistic, and that I have slightly protruding ears, but...Spock? 

Ok, maybe.

But for a friend, specifically the munch who is making women feel better about themselves all over the blogosphere....

My 5 wishes for this holiday season...by the Meanie Onion

1. Of course, my first wish is that my mother remain in cancer ass-kicking mode and that by Valentines Day we no longer throw lingo like 'white blood count', 'chemo pump', and other yucky cancer-y words. We will be over that shit. And still eating a lot of lunch together.

2. My second wish is for the folks in the Oncology waiting room whose situation is much more uncertain than my mother's to kick cancer's ass as well. :( Get well, darlings. 

3.  This one is none of your beeswax.

4. I wish all servicemen and women serving away from their families don't have to be away much longer. 

5. I wish that those who are sad, lonely or unfulfilled by their lives this season find what they need in the New Year. 

There. Done.  Live Long and Prosper and junk. 

I am happy to link up a few fellow bloggers as well who are awesomesauce and deserve a fly-by.  

Check out Munch, linked above as well. I didn't want you to forget, since he is a friend to all bloggers and will definitely give a shout one when earned. 

De Bie Hive - Although we have never met, we have mutual friends. It WILL happen. I know it. 

Reptiles in the Ice Cream is crazy in all the right ways. I love her long time. She also got her own domain, adios Blogspot..

Rowdy Rodney: Also follow him on Facebook. He has a new book out and I am extremely JEALOUS. He also has a cookie line. You heard me. 

I'll Have it on the Side - She and I are having some issues with blogging regularly, but when she does, it's enjoyable goodness.

Onward HO! Layers Visits Social Wyoming..and is Poetic

Hi there,

I have been blogging it UP with more holiday spirit than I feel over at Social Wyoming this week. One silly poem and a fun little chat about 'decking the walls' (see what I did there?). Check it out and leave me some rad comments so my boss will be uber impressed! um...please?

Social Wyoming, Holiday style! (Because Gangnam Style is soooo last week, yo.)

See you there!

And, because I love you and I know...KNOW you will hustle over to Social Wyo to give me some love, this is for you. This is some seriously powdery snow leaping.

Family Cancer Social Blitz O' Rama...It's A Layer

Hi, hello..

Unlike cool bloggers, I don't have those special days in which I post, except the occasional Throat-punch Thursday, which occasionally occurs on Monday. Or Saturday. Or skips a week.

This day, I am calling Random Wednesday. I had to check the calendar to make sure I was on the right day. It's that random, yo.

I have a few things I want to chat about:

Those of you who knowS me, knowS I don't likes to share a lot about tough times or the accompanying feelings beyond self-righteousness or annoyance. But I shared on my Layers Facebook page (you aren't on it? get going!) that my mom has a small case of cancer, which I am rudely calling "Cancer Light". Before you yell at me about minimizing my poor decrepit (she isn't, she's fab) mother's illness, you needS to knowS a few more things.

• My mother's cancer was caught SUPER early and has been mostly banished from Sandy-land with the biopsy. She got an A+ on her PET scan test! ((Beaming))
• I minimize shtuff because it makes me feel less afraid. 
• Compared to the many very ill people at the oncology center, I feel relieved about my mom's prognosis and 95% treatment success rate.
• I joke about serious matters because it makes me feel less afraid
• I am emotionally stunted

I have guilt that I shared about my mom's diagnosis, since it is her beeswax, but I can't stuff the cancer cat back in the bag  (I also can't keep our real cat off of the lizard cage either, but that is another story).

Cancer is suckariffic and my mom is handling her treatment like the woman she is. She looks awesome and you wouldn't know she was even taking treatments if I hadn't just rudely announced it in the blogosphere. I shouldn't have shared it, but I was so fecking annoyed last week that i couldn't stop myself from posting a public service announcement asking people not to ask those who have cancer WHERE THEIR CANCER IS. This is none of your business. And don't ask her meanface daughter either.

Ask TWIN, she is the nice one.

If you feel you must ask (don't), and the person you ask quietly replies that it is in a place that people don't want to share about, don't AGAIN ask "really, where???". 

Please stop it.

I know you are curious and concerned in a mostly good way, and I will happily regale you with the details of radiation, chemo pumps, white blood counts, my research on Probiotics and my rock-star mother's handling of it all, I promise. But please don't look at her in alarm with what she is calling "the cancer eyes" and screech "I hope your beautiful red hair doesn't fall out!!". 

Seriously, stop that right now.

Although I wish my mom didn't have cancer, there has been a weird silver lining. (Hey, look-a-me being all sunshin-y and shizzle again, yo!)

We are all busy in our family and our extended family life suffers. We can barely manage to get a meal in together which doesn't occur on a national holiday or an anniversary of someone's passing (those lunches just piss me off). I have been openly pouting about this for some time, even demanding I be invited to dinner randomly. We have gotten better, but...we still stink at it.

Until recently.

We have been transporting my very able-bodied mother to treatment every day, taking turns with TWIN. The treatment is pretty fast most days, leaving time to run some errands for my mom in order to keep her away from germs and also just to carry heavy stuff and do the hearing for her (she is hard of hearing). But the cool part is that TWIN and I and Sandy are spending some serious quality time! Some days, I join TWIN on her day for a lunch trio, and she joins mine. It's a FAMILY-CANCER-SOCIAL-BLITZ! 

Did I just say that? You know I did. 

It will be nice if we can keep it up once we don't have to worry about those pesky treatments any longer. Fuck you, treatments!

I had a lot more to tell you, but I forgot. But, I promised some randomness, so....

Dr. Phil's wife appears to be aging backward.

Discuss.

Oh, and there is this. I am proud (most days) to say that this crazy Al Simpson character is from my state. He hasn't always voted my way, but the dude exudes common sense. And, he is hip. Even with a bum knee. Gangnam Al! 


(If you think this is funny, check him out on YouTube saying Snoopy Poopy Poop Dog.)
Al Simpson, please be my grandpa.
And...I'm OUT!

The Best Kind of Following

My kids follow me around the house. Not in an obvious way; more like a fog which trickles in over time, one after the other. They don't really talk to me, but bring their book or electronics in to sit near me after I have snuck away from the noisy TV show they were watching. One arrives, usually to lie on the bed by me. Soon enough, the other rolls in to share my air. I'd love to say it drives me crazy, but the truth is, it's dreamy, animalistic, mother-y goodness which makes me feel like a lioness with her cubs. Purr.

Crud is in the Hiz-Ouse.

An e-bola like crud has descended upon our household. 

Stomach viruses are awesome....said no one ever. 

I have managed to avoid a major collision with the bug, but have been sideswiped a little between bouts of caring for the infirmed. But I AM NOT SICK.

Special Agent and I don't "do" sick. It isn't allowed around here. We reject illness. When it inevitably strikes one of us, this is how the conversation goes

Spouse A: ((sniff)) ((Cough-cough, gag))

Spouse B: You ok?

Spouse A: I'm fine. ((clearing throat))

Spouse B: No you aren't....Oooh, you're getting SICK!!!

Spouse A: No I'm not. ((squinting evil eye at Spouse B)) I'm FINE. 

Spouse B: Yea-heah..Youuuuu're sick. ((Smiling))

Spouse A: I'M NOT SICK!!!

Spouse B: Sick. Siiiiiick. Sick-sick-sick-sick.

Spouse A: Shut up. 

Spouse B: ((singing)) sickety-sick-pants....

Spouse A: SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR MOUTH ((random violence))

Spouse B: ((Walking away backward while mouthing)) SICK.

Special Agent calling me an hour later to
say..."you're sick". ...Jerk.

It isn't much better with our kids. When they say they feel sick, we literally try to talk them out of it. We have had a modicum of success with the strategy and will hold out on it until someone has a fever or throws up TWICE. (Once could just have been a fluke, a bad clam, whatev.) 

Fevers and continued vomiting are a no argument illnesses. Your body is literally PROVING its ill. Fine. Fiiiine. You're sick. 

But how long does this have to go on, geez???? 

Both kids have been through two days EACH of smashing their germy bodies into our couch, intermittently throwing up and groaning. I throw crackers through the door into the couch area and roll a bottle of Gatorade their way. 

 I try to be nice and kind, but I don't have a ton of stamina after about...4 hours of this sick business. You've thrown up everything you could possibly have had in your body (and then some). Get well...Now. 

Consequently, our kids are pretty tough. The insurance lady just noted with amazement that we haven't had a claim yet this year for either kid. And I haven't even been employing my fish antibiotic treatment! 

Our daughter has yelled at me several times today that she is FINE, in between school, trying out for basketball, doing her math homework and throwing up. I keep winging crackers at her,but she won't eat 'em. 

So don't come over. Stay far away from us for at least 10 days. We have a little something going on around here. 

But, WE ARE NOT SICK. 

Melancholy

The lonesome oak tree held its fire

til November...

We watched the last brown leaf 

hit the ground and blow away....

An evening gunshot let him know 

the hunt was over...

A familiar cold moved in

somewhere between snow and rain...

 - Robert Earl Keen

I did some errands and couldn't help but notice all of the hunters in town, gathering their supplies together and smiling and at the cool, damp weather which lends to their success. I smiled at them, groups of men looking like boys. 

I felt sorry for myself, sorry for my loss, which is not new but always with me. I ate some fresh bread, ripped in chunks from the loaf in my cart while i slowly pushed around the aisles of light bulbs and steel wool. 

I frowned at the hunters behind their backs. Somewhere, someone had no idea that next year, their hunter won't not be among these boy-men. And then he won't be there for the next six years, either. He isn't coming back. 

I felt sad for my mother. I felt sad for a friend who lost her hunter just last month. I felt bad for fatherless and grandfatherless children. But mostly, I felt bad for myself. 

I miss him.