Archives for category: grief and loss

I am a tough cookie. Very little spooks me and I have been pretty darn fearless about life. Read the rest of this entry »

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My mom was a shell seeker. I have the most warm fuzzy memories of searching for shells with her on every beach we visited when I was a kid, and on our last trip together in Hawaii, collecting puka shells by the dozens. Read the rest of this entry »

Three images keep looping through my mind.  Read the rest of this entry »

Ugghh… I really didn’t want to write about this. This is the blog idea in the bottom of the barrel, the one I pretend I don’t see every time I reach in and randomly pull one for new ideas each week. Read the rest of this entry »

When you take a person who is already slightly more neurotic than the average bear, and you add a dose of breast cancer, you find yourself with a girl who thinks she has thigh cancer. Read the rest of this entry »

There I was, just sitting in the chemo lounge, politely minding my own business. All dandy in my barcalounger, port numbed and plugged in for my five hour poison infusion; a couple of Star Magazines and a National Enquirer in my lap, blanket nicely tucked in, ginger ale and a box of DOT’s (aka anti nausea meds) at the helm.

That was at least how she left me. But that is not how she found me.

Chemo Nurse Extraordinaire Marci was quite used to finding me engaged in the bizarre rituals I used to manage my anxiety. But even a seasoned pro like her was not prepared for what she saw when she turned the corner to find me well, lets just say, far from how she left me. National Enquirer splayed on the floor, tears streaming down my face, fingers in both ears, frantically and loudly humming the theme song from the Flintstones. Without skipping a beat (as if she saw this every day) she calmly said, “Lauren, what in the world is wrong now?” Note the word “Now.” If I thought 15 months of chemo was never ending hell, well imagine poor Marci…but I digress. Read the rest of this entry »

My 84 year old neighbor Frances has taught me a lot about the world, like the difference between lima beans and butter beans and that you need to wrap a folded paper towel around a can of Coca Cola to have with your pack of Nabs. One of the more important things I have learned from her is the difference between “over yonder” and “way out yonder.”  Over yonder is someone up the street from us, you can walk over yonder, but way out yonder is like someone in Missouri.  I just love Frances. Read the rest of this entry »

Mammogram today….upstairs first, back down here for chest xray…new insurance card…copay 40 dollars…change in here… locker won’t work try another… here take your key Read the rest of this entry »

Once, when Colton was just learning to read he was given an assignment by his teacher to write something about one of his grandparents. He brought me a piece of paper, which still hangs on the fridge to this day. Penciled in little boy hand it said, “Grandma Ellie was my mom’s mom. She loved dogs. She is in heaven.” Boy did she.

Scout claimed me. I had been trolling on the SPCA website pulling up pictures of available dogs and to be honest, I was really looking for a Basset Hound as that was all I had owned for years. Amelia, who was only about 3 at the time, stood next to me as I scrolled through the pictures. When the picture of this white fluffy dog flashed up on the screen she blurted, “Oh! Look how cute that one is!” Read the rest of this entry »

Once upon a time, I was riding along, listening to a radio interview with a woman who ran a summer camp etiquette school for girls, still even in the year 2009. She hosted this camp in her home each summer, teaching young ladies the social graces. As the girls followed her through a day, she was heard teaching them lesson upon lesson. A gentile sounding woman, I imagined her in very sensible shoes, immaculately appointed in Pendleton wool…perhaps a bit grandmotherly. I was mesmerized by her smooth perfect inflection saying to the girls, “We never call it a trash or garbage can, it’s always a wastebasket; it just sounds nicer that way.” Read the rest of this entry »

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