Best. Sister-In-Law. Ever.

Honey’s sister GG, is visiting from the UK.

She arrived on Saturday the 28th.

I have been blessed.


Because GG arrived on Saturday, I was able to go to the state capital to rally against the War of Women.

I absolutely would not have felt able to day-trip were she not going to be here.

Then, when I arrived home after almost 12 hours away, I found that the fairies had visited.

The dining table was free of clutter, I could see the counter-top on the island (peninsula).

I had to check to make sure I was actually in the right house….

Today the sister-fairie took Honey to his MRI appointment downtown, freeing me up to do nothing all day.

She will be coming with us to see Honey’s Neuro-oncologist tomorrow morning.

(I am so seriously hoping that we have an uneventful appointment – for her sake if nothing else)

Following our appointment at MDA, GG and I are planning a day o’fun.

When she visited last (in December 2011) she wanted to take me to get a girlie-mani-pedi, but I was rather down in the dumps and didn’t quite get the energy up to do much of anything.

Totally my loss.

I shan’t make the same mistake again.

This time, I will force myself to do something relaxing.

Sadly, GG is going “home” to the UK on Thursday afternoon.

The house always feels so empty after she leaves.

She brings a lightness to Honey’s countenance.

He loves his “big” (older) sister.

So do I.



lying on concrete

waiting for nothing


no cars in sight

not a ripple

not a thought

they lie in peace


So, it was a rainy, grey day, and I was driving Honey to chemo.

He was rather off in his own mind – and I, silly me, asked where he was.

His response: “Composing”

What I should have said: “Oh, okay”

What I did say, “Hmmm, what are you composing this time, Honey?”

My husband, the tortured poet.

Great poem, but so morose, bleak, grey.

I suppose it would be totally ludicrous to expect sunshine and roses,

but partial shade and dandelions would make me happy.

Love you (and Mr. Sunshine, here)

* by the way, he got a WICKED tongue lashing for that one.

***Please take note… this blog almost didn’t get written because I was monitoring and not wanted to bruise any of my friends’ feelings. Then, I realized that nobody else expects me to self-monitor; perhaps I should allow myself some latitude… Yeah, I definitely need to cut myself some more slack. Bring on the sloth…

I love my family of friends.

I have a wonderful, thoughtful group of faith family.

They are fantastically altruistic and gracious.

I (we) truly have been blessed to have happened upon (and been adopted by) the Northwoods’ family.

That being said, let me tell you about how no good deed goes unpunished in my world these days…

Last month, I was gifted the most awesome gift. Ten or so of my friends got together and gave me a gift certificate for an hour and a half massage at a local yoga studio/spa. The appointment had been made for me and one of the gift givers volunteered to be on call if she was needed while I went to enjoy my 90 minutes of bliss.

* As an aside… the appointment my friends scheduled for me conflicted with another friend’s wedding; but everything was set up for me, so….

I arrived on time for the appointment, but ended up waiting far longer than I expected. Apparently, the massage therapist forgot to write the appointment in her book and hadn’t come in to work that day –> so I rescheduled for a Wednesday at noon when Honey would be out lunching with other friends.

And maybe things happen for a reason, I missed the wedding, but I did get to take an afternoon nap that I hadn’t been expecting but sorely needed.

Fast forward two and a half weeks, I am back at the spa. I have just met the massage lady and I am about ready to be pampered. She was quite professional and actually read the health release that I filled out. Things are looking good… She asks about my past experience with massages. I have a history of having dabbled in many different attempts at pain management, the best I have found for attacking nerve/muscle pain is Julstro Muscular Therapy, a massage technique developed by one of my NUUC friends. It is a painful experience to say the very least (excruciating would be a more apt definition) but if one can breathe through the pain, the rewards are almost immediate and quite dramatic.

The massage therapist working on me was also a yoga teacher. She was pleased that I am comfortable with deep tissue massage and seemed tickled that I am aware that I must get through my pain to get beyond my pain (it doesn’t matter if you get that at all – the important thing was that I did).

The last thing she said to me before starting to work on my neck and shoulders was, “I’ve never worked on anybody with fibromyalgia before.”

I should have gotten up and gotten dressed right then.

The massage itself felt great. Quite the cornucopia of sensory treats… aroma therapy, white noise, heated mattress pad, and being rubbed on all are just such a winning combination. For a while all was good in the world.

For a while…..

I made sure to drink plenty of water the rest of the day to prevent aches and pains…..

Yeah. It didn’t work.

By the time it was getting dark out, I was feeling it. A lot.

My neck and shoulders were on fire. I could not turn my head to look over either shoulder nor could I lift either arm as there felt to be a tendon connecting the top of the spinal column to each upper arm and whenever I attempted to move either my head or my arms I paid the price. Dearly.

Tomorrow will be one week since I have had my massage.

I am back to about 80% mobility in my neck. I have my arms back. I have been eating Flexeril like m&ms hoping that if the muscles relax enough I can access the pressure points to free the spasms. It doesn’t seem to be working as well as I would have hoped.

I feel this incident kinda sums up my existence lately. Things are so beautifully warped and twisted that right seems left and up is down.

And by the way, I blame cancer (cuz it sucks).

Did I mention that I have a fantastic group of friends?

Who I know love me and only want good things for me and are bound to feel horrible when they read about my experience, but shouldn’t because they are wonderful, thoughtful people. Really.

I love you (and prescription pain relievers)

The One I Almost Didn’t Write

No, damnit, I am not pregnant…

I am just fucking fat.

But thanks so much for your blessings anyway, I think I shall take them and apply them elsewhere.

Now, just to be sure we are all on the same page, I will answer the most frequently asked questions:

1. Yes, I am sure.

2.  Because I am experiencing early onset menopause.

3. Yet again, yes, I am sure.

4. Because Honey and I saw a reproductive endocrinologist after my last miscarriage.

5. No, you cannot touch my belly and stop looming over me with your greedy hands reaching for my mid section

6. 130 lbs, I am not too concerned about the number of the scale. My issue is how my clothing fits and looks

7. from size 0/1 Juniors to size 8 woman’s in a blink of an eye

8. 36-29-40 ( Kim Kardasian, eat your heart out)

9. Yeah, thanks. I KNOW that crunches would likely go a long way towards getting rid of the pooch. I think I’ll walk thanks.

10. Yes, I am happy with this new body.  It feels like a good and strong vessel in which to house myself for this journey

11. I also quit smoking about 4 months ago – that may contribute to increased appetite and perhaps to weight gain.

12.The worst part is thinking of all the costumes I have amassed over the years that I can no longer wear.

13. Thinking about NEW costumes makes me very happy though…

14. Yeah, no. I really do blame cancer

So, that’s where I stand on this topic as of now. I would like to leave you with one more little pearl of advice regarding this sensitive subject… If you ever are not totally sure if someone you haven’t seen in a while is pregnant or just getting fat, ask them what’s new in their world before you do or say anything else. If they don’t tell you about a pregnancy, trust me, there isn’t one. No matter how much you want to ask, you must resist the urge. Wait til you can talk with/email/text another friend in your grapevine to find out. And for God’s sake, do not tweet the query. Please.

Love you (and cupcakes)

~ Me

It happens all the time – I have yet to figure out why I never realize until I am in the thick of it.

My intention is to be proactive. My actions feel way more reactive, though.

I have extensive education and experience dealing with emotional/behavioral issues (in OTHER people)

I am supposed to be the expert here.


I keep getting all wrapped up in what is happening this moment and forgetting to wholly BE IN the moment.

I am fairly certain that one day I am going to regret having been nit-picky over things like this.

Fact of the matter is that I am learning this job as I do it. It is totally a trial by fire. I’m sure I’ll be great at being a caregiver when it is no longer relevant – either that or I’m gonna hafta change my career path to utilize newly acquired skills.


I feel that I need to make this time with Honey perfect. I am not really joking when I say that we are enjoying our retirement now. We are doing things pretty much in reverse order and that is okay. Most of the time.

It becomes an issue when I forget that I am staying home with my HUSBAND and not with a ward. It is also an issue when he forgets that I am his WIFE and not just the person who happens to be in charge of the house. Do you know what I mean? I hope you don’t actually, but I’ll bet you can imagine.

This is my our current WTF? issue: I know that Honey wants me to be happy. I know that he actively tries to contribute to my happiness. And I know that I am a not nearly as easy to please as I think I am. I just really, really feel like I just can’t leave the house anymore. Note: I said that I “feel” this way. This is not necessarily the way things are.  I am starting to feel isolated. Probably closer to the truth to say I have felt isolated for a while now, I am just now realizing the psychological impact that not seeing other grown-ups on a daily basis has on me. (I have also seriously curtailed the time I am on the phone further isolating myself)

In addition to my own independence problems, Honey is still having his abandonment issues. He doesn’t want anybody but me to be taking care of him. Except for the week following chemo, he really doesn’t need all that much caring for, which is good.

What isn’t good is that lately, when I try to do things that don’t involve Honey, he has a crisis.

scene 1: I had to phone in an order of Easter ham (the first time I had been on the phone in at least three days). As soon as I started talking to the Ham rep, Honey had to start in on T and then NEED me to intervene to solve their disagreement right then. It feels rude and awkward to be redirecting the Y-chromosomes especially when I am on the phone trying to conduct business.

scene 2: I am on my way out the door for Dave Ramsey FPU, T is still eating dinner, Honey starts walking around asking, “what is T’s homework? What is T’s homework?” T can certainly pull out his own assignment, however Honey was still panicking. And he expects me to fix whatever is wrong.

scene 3: On my way out the door to attend a care givers conference (irony galore) he tells me he will be driving the kids to the store while I am gone.This definitely needed my attention immediately – causing me to be 10 minutes late to the first session.

The bubble in my frustration level hasn’t been as centered as I would like lately.

Honey is creeping up on that place usually reserved for sick or tired children. You know that place where they need just slightly more from you than you have to give…

The next stop on that train is burn out. There are things I would like to do… I was gifted a two-hour massage; I would like to go get it. I am wanting to go to Austin to rally for the War on Women on the 28th, but I imagine myself half way to Austin, receiving a phone call telling me that I am needed – or that I am not really needed, but that there is some catastrophe that can only be resolved by me running interference.


Happy Easter. May you enjoy the absolution of your sins.

It happens all …