Tag: satire

The Chair

My long suffering husband, Mitch, is no wimp. He’s not afraid of too many things in this world. I’ve seen him stand his ground among men a lot bigger and stronger than he is and come out ahead. In his youth his father taught him to box in order to fight back against school bullies, something he’s carried over into his adulthood. But there is one thing he is terrified of, me. I can instill terror and panic in Mitch in less than two minutes flat. I know that’s bold statement but I can prove it.

Last Saturday I had him take me to Nebraska Furniture Mart to buy a couple of accent chairs for the living room. He didn’t really want to go, you know how exciting furniture shopping is to a man, but nevertheless he went. As we were walking into the building he commented, “So we’re going to get a couple of chairs to match the couch?” (Mitch likes everything to match, coffee table and end tables alike, sofa, loveseat and matching chair, you get the picture)

I shook my head and said, “No, I have something else in mind. The room would be very drab all the same color, no I want some punch in the room. You know, I want something with a bold pattern and some contrasting colors.” He turned and looked at me, eyes a little wider, like someone who’d just been told they had cancer.

“Colors, patterns, what colors and how big a pattern?” This while his left eye started to twitch.

I said, “Oh I don’t know, maybe red or orange, something bold. I’ll know it when I see it.” The twitch got more pronounced. Then I said, “I was thinking of buying two different chairs not a matching set. Something to give the room more punch.” His eyes widen and he sucked in his breath trying to picture the unbalanced room in his mind’s eye. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

As we wandered around looking at the variety of chairs, Mitch kept trying to get me to look at brown or beige chairs and I pointed out all of the chairs with wonderful patterns and colors other than brown or beige. He would sit in the ones I would point to and say how uncomfortable they were, like he would ever sit in it anyway. I found one chair that was a sort of barrel shape and had very large red and brown circles covering the chair. Mitch looked at it and I could swear he sort of clutched his chest and looked skyward as if to say, “Look out Martha this is the big one! I’m coming home!”

He said, “Do you really like this?”

I said, “Not especially, I just want to see you flinch.”

About an hour later I finally found a chair that I really liked. It was a cream colored fabric with red and brown and black writing all over the chair, almost like old envelopes and cancelled postage stamps. It had a low back and sloping arm rests, the perfect size. I could see that Mitch wasn’t sold on it, so I decided that I would look around a bit more and found another chair that was also cream colored with dark brown butterflies stamped all over it and proclaimed this was the one. Given the choice of either butterflies or antique writing, he went with the antique writing. Butterflies was just way over the top for him, I think it would have given him nightmares.

When I suggested that we buy both, Mitch was convinced that the room wasn’t large enough for two chairs. Funny, if I was going to buy matching solid color chairs, there was enough for two, but two different chairs were way too big for the room. In order to not send him to the hospital with a coronary I found a round ottoman that I liked and bought it to go in the room with the chair. This way, I have one chair and the ottoman can be used another place to sit. Genius.

Poor Mitch, what he has to put up with.

The Hotel Room from Hell

Once a year maybe two if we’re lucky, we head to central Nebraska to go pheasant hunting. For the last five years we’ve stayed in a little town in central Nebraska at a national chain. The rooms have always been clean and the staff very friendly. Last year we didn’t go hunting because I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had my surgery about the time we normally go hunting. When I called to reserve our room a man answered with a very heavy accent that made conversation a struggle with a lot of repeating on both our parts. I was just hopeful that I had actually made a reservation and there would be a room for us when we got there on Friday evening. It turned out that we would have been better off if we haven’t gotten the reservation. The name had changed and was no longer a part of the chain. The man at the front desk was the same one I spoke with on the phone. In person he was not very friendly, I don’t think he ever smiled in his life. He spoke loudly and repeated everything I said. Granted I had a difficult time understanding him. I tried but I am not good at accents. He gave me the room key cards and pointed to the direction of the room.

We drove around the building found the room and started unloading. Evidently the new owners were economizing. The room was tiny with one bed, my mistake, I usually ask for two beds but having missed a year I forgot. There was a piece of cardboard taped to the wall presumably covering a hole. Spackle and paint must be very rare in this part of Nebraska. There was no in-room mini coffeepot, good thing we brought our own. The towel bar over the sink had no bar, just the two mounting brackets supporting the missing bar. The sink stopper was lying on the sink next to the sink, not in the drain for some reason. There were two bath towels, two hand towels and two wash cloths. One roll of toilet paper and no Kleenexes. There was a small refrigerator that sounded like it was on its last leg. Mitch’s favorite thing about the room was the hand written piece of paper with the new name of the hotel taped to the telephone in the room. Vary classy.

The bed was a full size bed, not queen size bed mind you, a full size. At least the television worked. I walked back to the front office and asked Mr. Happy for a roll of toilet paper and a box of Kleenexes. He handed me a roll of toilet paper and said that I had to wait for housekeeping the next day for the Kleenexes. I said that there were no Kleenexes in the room now and I wanted a box today. He said that I had to wait for housekeeping tomorrow. Customer service 101 was a class he evidently skipped. I walked back to our room toilet paper in hand and started to get ready for bed when I realized that I forgot my contact lens solution. Mitch offered up a bottle of water for me to use. Thanks but I don’t that would have worked. I jumped in the car and buzzed across the highway to the Walmart for contact lens solution and squirt cheese for the dogs to hide Charlie’s pill in. I should have bought two pillows and pillowcases, but I hadn’t seen the pillows before I left the room.

While I was gone, Mr. Happy knocked on the door of our room. It took Mitch a minute to answer thinking it was me and that I forgot my key. Anyway when Mitch finally answered the door the dogs bounded out in front of him and out the door before he could stop them. Mitch always thinks that everyone loves dogs. He looks at our dogs as big friendly dogs that love everyone, he forgets that a lot of people are apprehensive around dogs, especially large dogs. Mr. Happy was a few feet away from the door with a plunger in his hand thinking that because I asked for a roll of toilet paper I must have clogged the toilet and we were under water. He took one look at the dogs romping toward him only seeing giant brown monsters with poisonous venom dripping from three foot long fangs coming to eat him. He waved the plunger back and forth in front of him like a light saber warding off the evil creatures of darkness. Of course by waving the plunger at the dogs Charlie saw it as a threatening act causing him to bark and growl at the man. Orso just wanted to be petted by someone new and just kept moving toward the man. Mitch got them under control and shooed back into the room and turned to Mr. Happy. He asked if we needed a plunger to which Mitch politely declined.

I came back contact solution in hand and finished getting ready for bed. That’s when I realized I should have bought pillows. The bed had two pillows on it, one small pillow and one smaller pillow. The bed had a definite tilt to it. The foot of the bed was higher than the head of the bed. Sitting on the bed felt like sitting on quarter inch plywood laid over springs, not comfortable at all. To top it off, Orso was disoriented and clingy, making himself at home across the foot of the bed, shortening the length of the bed by two feet. Mitch on one side, me on the other and here comes Charlie making himself comfortable between us. A full size bed is large enough for the two of us, but add in one hundred eighty pounds of dogs and the bed gets really small very quickly. Charlie wasn’t happy with the hardness of the bed and kept squirming around flopping on my stomach. We laid there for about thirty minutes listening to the refrigerator cycle on and off. I finally couldn’t take it anymore got up and unplugged it. Between Orso at the foot of the bed, Charlie squirming around in the bed and a bed that felt like sleeping on plywood neither one of us got more than a couple of hours sleep. If I hadn’t been afraid of what disgusting things had been ground into to the carpet I would have slept on the floor.

We lasted until about 4:30 in the morning, that was all my lower back could take. I got up and noticed a puddle of water on the credenza next to the refrigerator. I looked down on the floor at the shotgun cases directly below the fridge and saw that two of the four cases were wet. Great. Neither one of us thought about the refrigerator defrosting when I unplugged it.

Mitch took the shotguns out of the cases to see how wet they were, salvaging three. One of mine, my back up shotgun took the brunt of the water. He dismantled it to dry out. I turned on the water in the shower turning the knob all the way over to the hot side in order to get the water warm enough, pulled the flow knob to shower and can only say that the best part about the shower was that the water was wet. I realized I forgot soap and reached for the bar of soap offered by the hotel. I picked up the package to unwrap it and discovered that it was already open and the bar had been used. Super disgusting.

It was going to be a long three nights. This trip was starting off a high note for sure.

Almost Fatal Attraction

I almost died this morning. No, not really, I’m exaggerating but it sure felt like it for a moment or at the very least I could have ended up with a really bad case of road rash, maybe even a bruise or two. And as is almost always the case, it was because of the dogs. Those miserable mongrel beasts that I feed, walk and let sleep in my house as well as my bed. Let me put it in perspective for you, I am five foot two inches tall and weigh in at a little over a hundred plus pounds, I’m not giving exact weight that’s only for the scale and me, but you can see that I am not a super big imposing person. The dogs on the other hand come in at one hundred and seventy plus pounds together, with Orso at a hundred and one and Charlie at seventy one pounds. Plus they both have way more muscle mass than two other people and me put together. Even though they are both senior dogs, Orso is eight and Charlie will be ten on Halloween, they can still get to afterburner speed when they are so inclined.

Our morning walks are always in the predawn hours when the creatures of the night are still out carousing and the morning animals are starting to stir. Most mornings I can hear owls calling out to other owls and a few of the early birds that are just waking up. It’s quite common to see raccoons, opossums and deer in the dim light. Because of that I am always on high alert making sure I see anything before the dogs hone in on it, causing them to bolt and charge after the object of their desire, thus making me a boat anchor dragging behind them. This has happened too many times to count. I’m pretty sure I’ve paid for more than one vacation for my chiropractor all from walking the dogs.

This morning started off very sedately, that’s how it always begins by the way. I get lulled into a false sense of security, a cool morning with fresh air and a slight breeze with the dogs sniffing and peeing on all of the bushes and trees strutting down the street like we are the only ones out this time of day. We had walked out to our time limit spot and had turned back to head home so I could jump in the shower and get ready for work. We had topped the hill and had headed down to round the curve in the road when Orso saw something and lunged forward to give chase with Charlie reacting a split second later. I was caught totally off guard, thinking about what I was going to wear to work, not paying attention and almost lost my balance. I came very close to actually falling down before I regained control and jerked on the leashes to yank them back. Orso turned and looked up at me with a very contrite look on his face and sat. Charlie on the other hand looked at me with a look that said, “It’s all the big dog’s fault, I was trying to save you. I would never have done that.”

It took a few minutes for my adrenaline level to get back to normal and my heart to stop pounding in my chest. I never did see what was out there in the dark that caused Orso to want to chase after, but I will definitely be watching a little closer tomorrow even though it won’t be there.

It’s a Conspiracy!

I’m not normally one of those conspiracy theorists, but in this case I’m willing to believe that some other hand is at work here. Every morning I walk the dogs in the predawn twilight. Everybody that knows me knows that. Because of the time of day and lack of light I am always on high alert especially when we get to certain areas that are more remote like the one stretch of road where there are no houses on either side and trees block out almost all of any light from the moon. For the most part, our morning walks are usually sedate, with multiple stops to sniff and pee, but for some reason this week almost every morning we have had close encounters with something. I say “something” because I have not seen what it is.

Yesterday the morning walk was going very well, we had just crossed the intersection where three streets meet and were heading down the long dark stretch of road when Orso almost stood straight up and started barking his head off. This encouraged Charlie to follow in kind. I couldn’t see anything, nothing moved in the shadows and dark spots ahead, there was no sound, nothing. I hushed the dogs and kept walking on down the road. Yes I know, maybe not the brightest move, but I figured what’s the worst that could happen? An axe murderer waiting for me to get closer, not likely since axe murderers are usually asleep at 4:30 in the morning. A werewolf waiting for me in the shadows probably not, because it wasn’t a full moon yesterday morning. Some critter that was holding really still in the dark, that was the most logical scenario I could come up with, so I tightened my grip on the leashes and off we went.

Charlie was all puffed up sniffing the air and the ground jerking back and forth trying to follow the scent of whatever it was that had them both so spooked. Both dogs were walking with their ears perked listening intently trying to locate “it”. As we walked farther down the lonely stretch of road the dogs became more and more agitated. Charlie either caught the scent or heard something and started barking loudly and very throaty which set Orso off too. I couldn’t see anything but decided that maybe we really should turn back and not tempt fate. All the way back home both dogs kept straining at their leashes sniffing and ranging back and forth.

This morning the walk started off with the dogs on alert, ears up and searching the dark landscape for any movement. Of course when they are on high alert, I’m on high alert too, I’ve been jerked around and pulled off my feet too many times when I haven’t been paying attention. They settled down about the time we rounded the first curve and headed up the hill. Just as we started down the hill something fairly large jumped up and bolted away from us on the other side of a stand of thick bushes. I couldn’t see what it was only that it was large enough to make a lot of racket when it bolted. That startled both the dogs and me, thinking, oh goodie here we go again. We quickly walked down the hill and headed off toward the long dark stretch of road. We made it down the long lonely stretch of road and back without incident and I thought we were home free.

Wrong. We retraced our steps back up the hill, around the curve and were only four houses away from our home when Orso jerked around and lunged at something in the dark barking away. This caused Charlie to jerk back to search for the unseen threat. They yanked me back and I came really close to losing my balance, my adrenaline shot through the roof, thinking this was it, “they’re going to find my dead mangled body and think there was a yeti or something running around.” Nothing was there. I looked around and didn’t see anything at all, nothing. Whatever “it” is it’s creepy.

Now I’m wondering what is going on is there something out there or is it someone jacking with me or what? Maybe it’s my hairdresser, maybe she thinks I need to color my hair more often, by scaring the bejesus out me and making my hair grayer. Maybe it’s my doctor maybe she wants to go on vacation and if I have a heart attack, the insurance claim would be more than enough to subsidize a nice little trip somewhere. Or maybe it’s Mother Nature, trying to tell me she controls the night and I better be more careful.

Happy Mother’s Day

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and to all the mothers out there Happy Mother’s Day. But I don’t think that it is really any more special than any other day. Don’t get me wrong, I think that motherhood is the most wonderful experience in the world. But reserving just one day to thank someone who made you what you are seems a bit underwhelming. Of course in my case, maybe I should change it from Mother’s Day to “Thank God My Children Survived Day”.

Raising children to be self-sufficient, productive adults is a noble achievement and I think I did an okay job. Nobody went to prison and none of them is on the dole. So I did okay, I certainly was not a perfect mother. I lied to my children when the need arose, such as when they were little and wanted candy out of the gumball machines. I told them that the writing on the front of the machines said, “Out of Order”. I sounded so sad and sincere, that it worked every time until they learned to read.

I bullied and terrified them telling them that I was an apprentice working on my mastership to be the meanest mom in the world and I was very close to getting my degree. I told them that I had eyes in the back of my head and could hear a pin drop three blocks away, so they better watch what they said and did. I dealt out justice swiftly, I never once said, “Wait ‘til your father gets home.” I let them play and get scraped knees and elbows. I let them fall down and helped them get back up so that they could fall down again. I told them to rub some dirt on it and get back out there.

I taught them to never be cruel to animals and other children, but at the same time I told them to never back down from a fight. Stand tall, be honest and treat people the way you want to be treated and it will all work out in the end. I told them that the only job they had in this world was to go to school and get good grades. A’s and maybe a B, but nothing less and there better be a really good reason that there was a B. Then we would work on the problem class until we solved the problems. I expected excellence out of them, mediocre was not acceptable. There is nothing wrong with not succeeding, but there is no excuse for not trying, that is the true failure.

As they grew older and started thinking about life, careers and families of their own, I told them that I didn’t care what they did or how much money they made, but to make sure they chose to do something they really loved doing. Because whatever they decided on, they would be doing it for a long time and if they didn’t love it then they would be unhappy for a very long time. I taught them that family is important but not at the expense of self.

I did what I did as a mother not because I wanted accolades or to be their friend. I told them that often, “I am your mother, not your friend, you have enough friends. I am here to guide you, to teach you and to make you into a worthwhile human being. You don’t have to like it or me, but you will do what I say, because I am your mother.”

Cruel wasn’t I?

A Catastrophe Narrowly Averted

The day started off so benignly, I took Mitch to work, walked the dogs, went to see my grandchildren and picked Mitch up from work. Boring stuff. After we got home from picking Mitch up, I started to fix us some lunch. Mitch was in the process of changing out of his work clothes to his grubbies so he could finish installing a step to the passenger side of the pickup truck. It’s a real challenge for me to climb into the truck, since I’m vertically challenged. Yesterday he installed the driver’s side and today it will be the passenger side.

I had set the table and finished making the salad, filling the salad bowls when I heard a weird noise coming from the third bedroom. I turned to look and saw both of the dogs lying on the floor in the dining room not the least bit interested in the noise. Because of their lack of interest I thought that Mitch was looking for something there.

We are in the midst of ripping up the hardwood floor and replacing it with bamboo. Because of the age of the house there has been some settling and the back corner of the room has sunk a few inches. Mitch is tearing out the floor and the subfloor to assess what will need to be done. This has left a small hole in the floor opening up to the basement on the old side of the house. The basement on the old side is made up of shelf rock, limestone, I believe. It’s very primitive and if I had a way down there without going outside first, I would have the perfect place for a wine cellar, cool and dark. Otherwise, it’s just creepy down there.

I called out to Mitch to ask what he was looking for and there was no response, but I could still hear the rustling sound. So I walked to the bedroom stepping over two sleeping dogs and started to walk in the room to ask Mitch again what he was looking for. Imagine my shock and surprise when I walked in on one large panicked squirrel running around in the room jumping up and down on each window looking for a way out. How he got in there I have no idea, but the last thing I wanted was the dogs to wake up and discover him in the bedroom. There would have been mayhem and carnage unimaginable. I’m not sure the house would have survived.

I quickly stepped out of the room and started yelling for Mitch. I had no idea where he was, so I ran to the door and shouted for him out in the garage, luckily he was still in the house and I didn’t have to search for him, leaving the squirrel and the dogs alone together. I told him we have a squirrel in the house, to which he didn’t believe me. I told him where it was and grabbed the dogs to take them to the master bedroom for the squirrel’s safety. Of course the panicked squirrel didn’t stay in the bedroom; no he ran to the kitchen and starting running around under the kitchen table. All I could see in my future was it jumping up on the table destroying dishes and scattering food everywhere. At that point I probably would have just burned the house down.

Mitch stood there watching the squirrel run around with a silly grin on his face. I could see the ten year old boy very close to the surface just when I needed a superhero and not a ten year old boy. Mitch regained control of himself and told me to open the kitchen door, close the bedroom door and hand him a broom. I thought oh please don’t start whacking things. I don’t want squirrel parts everywhere and in the course of killing the squirrel destroying the kitchen. I know most men resort to the caveman inside when an opportunity to be the tough guy comes along and I didn’t want to have to clean up the mess.

Thankfully Mitch just used the broom to point the terrified animal in the direction of the open kitchen door. The squirrel couldn’t get out of the house fast enough; he raced across the yard and fled up a tree. I still am not sure how the dogs missed the sound of the squirrel running around in the bedroom or didn’t catch a whiff of him either. But one thing’s for sure, I am really glad they didn’t.

Not for the Faint of Heart

The other day I shot my mouth off and said how much I love the hustle and bustle of the holidays, but that was before we went to Toys R Us. That store is only for the strong at heart, not amateurs like Mitch and me. The store was packed and the game of the day was avoiding being run down by mad shoppers pushing carts insanely about in search of the perfect toy. We were there to shop for our four granddaughters four years old down to one year old. I stood there looking very glassy eyed at all the options, while Mitch totally overloaded wandered off with a blank look on his face.

I walked down aisles and aisles of dolls, books and toys based on age looking very shell shocked. Did they already have this doll or was this toy too young or too old? I was in way over my head. I looked around for help from Mitch and he was gone. Off I went to try and find him, thinking maybe he had a stroke of brilliance and was getting the perfect gifts. I finally found him in the Star Wars section playing with light sabers and full size storm troopers. My nine year old boy had come out to play just when I needed adult help.

I reminded him that we were there for girl gifts and he wasn’t helping. I forced him to break away from the boy side of the store and tried to make our way back to the girl side fighting shoppers and their carts. Once again Mitch’s attention was drawn to a display of stick ball bats. I didn’t even know they made stick ball bats. He suggested that we buy one for each little girl and it could be “survival of the fittest”. I reminded him again that we were dealing with little girls and that the bats were taller than the girls.

After an hour of wandering up and down aisles, we finally came away with hopefully gifts that will get oohed and awed. I had no idea that Christmas shopping could be a full contact sport. Boy do I need a drink.

I am Tired of the Cold and it’s only December

I must be getting old. I’ve never been a super big fan of the cold, preferring to stay inside bundled up with about a hundred layers. I make the effort to take the dogs on their walks like a dedicated pet owner, but if there was a way to get them to hold it until say, March I wouldn’t complain. Of course that isn’t possible so I put on multiple layers and go tromping outside. But it is definitely not fun, since the temperatures have been bitterly cold the last few days with highs in the teens.

The up side is that both of the dogs are getting old too. Orso is now seven and Charlie is a senior citizen at nine. Neither one of them is too enamored with hanging outside too long. Charlie has short hair and gets cold quick and Orso is just a big sissy. This morning our first outing consisted of running outside after breakfast for a quick trot around the yard to do their business and a mad dash to get back inside where it was warm and carrots were waiting as treats. The second outing was later than usual around ten am, with us holding out hope for a heat wave, (didn’t happen), but at least the snow was very light by then. The temperature had warmed up to a sultry eighteen degrees Fahrenheit.

I had on a tee shirt, a flannel shirt, micro fleece jacket and a lined parka and that was just on the upper half of my body. The lower half I had on sweat pants and insulated wind pants, which work very well for keeping my legs warm and the wind out, I just swish when I walk. I even wore silk glove liners and down leather mittens. I am the bigger sissy here and I’m not afraid to admit it. I think it took longer to get dressed than it took for the walk. We did not dally on the walk, it was walk, get to the task at hand and get back home.

The third outing after they ate dinner was pretty much a repeat of the second outing, with me looking like a chunky monkey dressed in a gazillion layers with a drippy nose from the cold. Why couldn’t they have been litter trained like a cat? More importantly why don’t we live some place warmer?

What a Tyrant!

I am married to a tyrant. It just proves the adage, “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely” or something like that. Anyway, I go and have a little surgery and now Mitch thinks he’s the boss of me. And he is certainly enjoying his new job, a little too much I might add.

“No, you can’t do this’ or “What are you thinking, of course not, you can’t fix breakfast.” “You had major surgery three days ago and was just released from the hospital one day ago, what are you thinking?” Granted I only felt like lying in bed and sleeping until this morning, but it’s MY JOB to take care of him and run the house.

If I start to get out of bed, he almost runs to my side of the bed and asks what I want, then pushes me back and goes to get whatever it is I want. The only thing he can’t do for me is go to the bathroom but if there was a way to accomplish that he would do it for me. He follows me around the house asking what I am doing or what do I need? God forbid I stand in one place too long, then Mitch gets really nervous and makes me go sit down or go back to bed. I think he is afraid I’m going to clean something or start cooking.

The dogs are glad I’m home. They give new meaning to the phrase, “Love me to death”. They were so excited to see me get out of the car, I thought they were going to crash through the door to say, “Hi, glad you finally made it. We missed you soooo much.” Mitch had to put leashes on them and take them for a walk to burn off some energy while my son and brother got me in the house and back into bed.

Now it’s a race to see who can get to the bed first and position himself close enough to be in the best snuggle position and not mow me down as they launch themselves from the living room in a race to be first. I’m telling you, two dogs weighing one hundred eighty pounds combined hurling through the air at you is the true meaning of terror. And then there’s Mitch right behind them trying fruitlessly to get control of the situation before he might have to take me to the emergency room and explain how I got squished.

As much as I complain about him ordering me around, I know it’s because he loves me and the longer I take to heal, the more likely he will starve. It would just be nice if he didn’t take so much pleasure being the boss of me. It is nice knowing that there he is taking care of me for better or for worse. But between you and me I won’t tell him that.

My Rose Garden

So far the real downside to breast cancer is that I had to give up my hormones. I know that in the great grand scheme of things, giving up taking hormones is insignificant to staying alive, but these hot flashes are miserable. That sounds petty and small to some I’m sure, but until you’ve had a hot flash you have no idea what I’m talking about.

You don’t know what to wear, either you don’t have enough clothes on or way too many and sometimes not enough on that you can remove them in public. You never know when one is going to strike, no warning, just all of a sudden there is blast furnace turned up on high inside you and you can’t get any cooling relief fast enough. I keep a small fan on my desk and am constantly turning it on and off, to the point that I’m starting to get the crazy eye looks from some of my coworkers. Of course, they’re a little scared of me under normal circumstances anyway, so this just adds to the fear.

Its small comfort that it’s late autumn and winter is coming, maybe it won’t be so bad with colder weather. Of course the neighbors will think I’ve lost my mind when I’m walking the dogs in a snowstorm wearing a short sleeve t-shirt and shorts.

Stupid breast cancer, couldn’t it have been something else that could have caused it besides hormones? I would have gladly given up turnips or fish, (even though I don’t eat turnips or fish anyway) to save myself from breast cancer. Of course I don’t know for sure that the hormones caused the breast cancer, not yet anyway. I’ll find that out after the surgery when they take it all out and some of my lymphatic system too. It just sucks that not only do I have to worry about breast cancer, but I have to be miserable off and on too.

Where is that rose garden, nobody ever promised me anyway?