I have been feeling rather crusty and curmudgeonly of late and it’s so not me. In fact since cancer, I have pretty consistently lived a skippity do dah life that is happy and full of gratitude and sunshiny and fun. Read the rest of this entry »
Archives for category: inspirational-humor
Years ago my best friend went through the stillbirth of her son, just before his due date. It was just devastating for all of us who loved that little boy; for we loved him long before he was born and still miss where he would have been in our lives. Read the rest of this entry »
I am at war right now. Read the rest of this entry »
Okay, admittedly I am cheating a bit here. Originally the little list below made its first appearance as part of the pink dress blog, a blog which chatted about how having breast cancer changes how people look at you and treat you, who they think you are and what you are capable of. Read the rest of this entry »
The Keystone Kops installed my port. Read the rest of this entry »
I have a friend who is an Ironman. Not like the Marvel Comics Ironman although that would be kinda cool, but like one of those crazy dudes who do those races in über hot places like Hawaii; you know,197,000 miles of biking, swimming and running on a gazillion degree day and their shoes melt? 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 »
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 »
Like a hoarder, I collect experiences. My brain is cluttered with a snippet of a memory here, a quote there. The Gandhi and Mother Teresa bin is overflowing and I have a temporal lobe chock full of song lyrics. As I meander through life and come across a new one, I always experience that delighted gasp that I first felt as child coming across a freshly hatched robin’s egg for the first time; enchantment at the uniqueness; wonder at the preciousness of such a delicate thing. I am awash with awe at the inherent depth of something so simple and small. As with the remnants of that soft blue, blue egg, I gently tuck my gatherings away, certain they will eventually have some use for me in the future. Certain they will serve some vital role if not now then later, as I try to make sense of the world. Certain they are gifts that deserve protecting. Perhaps these collections are the evidence of my belief that almost always the answers to life queries (both large and small) are laid before us like a field of daisies. We just have to choose not only to see them, but gather them up one by one, making in the end a whole beautiful and complete bouquet. These are indeed, my tchotchkes of the mental world.
after five years 