Did You Ever Think Life Was Gonna Be This Way?

I loved Halloween as a kid. The dressing up for school parades, the running around for (what seemed like) hours, trailing the rumors of full size candy bars all through the neighborhood, our costumes covered by winter coats (I grew up in one of the suburbs of Chicago). The inherent subversive nature of it all was what really made Halloween such delirious fun: for one beautiful evening, the doors to a world outside after dark were flung wide open! The streets would darken, my brother and his friends invariably would tear off and leave me - but it didn't matter, because we knew almost every kid in the neighborhood and so I would find my pals and wander around with them, concocting plans about trying to return to a place that had the best offerings without being called out for repeats, eating candy all the while.  treats When our kids were born, then, you can imagine how excited I was for Halloween. Not only for the candy, but for the costumes! The pumpkin patches! The leaves cr...

Yesterday morning, I awoke and considered the day ahead: an Oxaliplatin infusion this afternoon, the first one in almost five years. I wondered briefly if I would see my friend Madeline at the cancer center - a mental image of her, smiling her little Mona Lisa smile at me (she had a whole wardrobe full of smiles, just as she had a closet chock full of fun clothes) from her infusion chair as we sat together, wafted up and forced me to do a mental double take, because I won't see Mad at infusion. Or anywhere else. She died on August 22 from complications of colon cancer. She was 41.  I tucked Madeline into my heart and head as I prepared for my day, knowing that her many years (she lived with CRC for over five years) of pushing back against this horrific disease with every medical option available to her would help me keep my perspective when I felt like whining. This woman exhausted all of the FDA approved treatments and then moved on to clinical trials, which are no small unde...

*to the tune of Don Maclean's "American Pie" Well, well, well! It's been a while, hasn't it? I got sidetracked as the second half of May engulfed me in a wave of "school's (almost) out, camps are starting and you should have registered in January" insanity, and after a couple of weeks, I realized that no one was asking me where the next blog update was and it was both a disappointment (for obvious reasons) and a relief (because I'd been starting to obsess a bit over the idea that I had to post consistently). So then I just started navel gazing rather than thinking and writing. I took a mental vacation, I suppose. It was sort of nice! But I discovered that the reason why I don't take mental vacations very often is because I get a little too cozy with my life-long nemesis, anxiety, and her BFF, depression. So the mental vacation is over and you'll all just have to pretend you're really eager for regular installments if I fall of...

Spoiler Alert: I guess it's possible: I finally complained too much. But I had no choice, with the complaining and the wailing and the gnashing of teeth and so on! I've spent about $9 kajillion on skincare solutions but my skin would not play nicely. I can't even believe I'm saying this, but it's not even the acne all over my face that has been bothering me the most. It's the fact that I feel like a cicada nymph about to become a glorious locust, but without the glorious locust payoff. Don't know what I'm talking about? Feast your eyes on this: If that's not interactive enough for you, it appears that you can buy empty cicada shells in a fancy jar on Etsy . And then you, too, can feel what it's like to have my skin, at least a little...by putting one of the shells on your thumb? (Seriously, though, what is going on with this, Etsy? I feel like I just stumbled into the dark underbelly of the craft world.)  Anyhoo, I'm gonna wh...