Rub-a-dub

I made a decision today to go back to work. I have no intention of killing myself with it, but want to give massages to cancer patients going through chemo. Also, I decided that I can't paint, play the piano, watch movies all day, and wait for the cancer-bomb to burst by belly apart again. The problem is that I, folks, am a bit of a firecracker, and I need to be overly stimulated and/or do something for other people to make me happy. I am going to give two free massages a week and start a support group for chemo patients at the studio.

What the heck was massage about? Honestly, I was driven to do it and I never knew why. Now that I feel better, I know. When I was going through chemo, getting massage was the only relief for me. My body ached everywhere and there was no reprieve except for massage or a hot bath. Even in the bath, I couldn't make the water hot enough to make the pain go away. I'm a pretty tough broad, but agony isn't such a pretty picture. Though it all was beyond the brink of horrible, those massages were just too expensive. Being touched in a gentle but fluid manner was an indescribable elixir during chemo and so, I am going to give free massages. Feeling good should be free, not $85.00 plus a hefty tip. It's something I can do... between spoiling myself rotten and working out in the gym like a farm animal, that is.

In the words of Martha Stewart, "it's a good thing."

Murder or dinner?

yummmmmmmm

Thank you, Cindy, for giving Erin the most delicious chocolate pie recipe I've ever eaten. Good job, Erin!

We were fighting over it.

Tradition

We all have memories from when we were small that conjure up those good feelings of the holidays. As much as my mother was a bit of a nut, she gave us so many things to hold onto and I've treasured that. My brother and I have to have sweet and sour red cabbage on Thanksgiving and Christmas and most people think that that is a little weird. My in-laws and out-laws need to have the cabbage now and as a matter of fact, I made a recipe book for every one a few Christmases back with that included.

I feel surprisingly good, but know the drug is sucking the moisture out of my body, and I can't drink enough water. I wish I could stay away from the good whiskey but that probably won't happen, and I am really looking forward to overeating today. I've been kicking some butt with the workouts but the doctor said it will take a while to straighten out the war raging inside my belly.

I am doing all the cooking this morning for fifteen people and I am as cool as a Taoist monk. Everyone talks about the stress but I've never been that way, and knowing that these years are precious makes me kind of relaxed about it all. It is 6 am and I am ready to go downstairs, have some coffee (another moisture leech) and make my stuffing. I had to tell my mother-in-law to stay out of the kitchen because her traditions are not so in sync with my own. I'm not sure Caesar salad (her suggestion) is what I'm going for today and I'm afraid she might bring some kind of Thai appetizer or garlicky Italian side dish. Americana is definitely not something she understands, but she is one of the biggest cheerleaders of my life. Velma was always in the front row when I was singing in the band and cried when she saw the book. I'm sure she will be clapping furiously when I go to trapeze school in Austria next year and audition for the circus. Ah, the joy of the Big Top...

I'm sure people laugh at me behind my back but when they bury me, they can't say I was bored.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

Holy schneikes...

The UPS man delivered my book to me today.

The process of writing this was the best time I'd ever had. The biggest problem with writing anything is that it is like painting a picture. You paint a lovely picture of a tree and it doesn't matter how you slice it, you can talk yourself into putting another leaf on a branch. This manuscript became an obsession for eight (count 'em) eight years. How anyone writes anything more than 150 pages is remarkable. Developing chronic writing-OCD is putting it mildly for me. Everyone knows, my tenacity is legendary.

Massage school? What the hell was that about?

Just like architecture, one person can look at a building and find it beautiful and another person thinks it is the nastiest thing they've ever seen. This will happen, and my expectations other than holding the book in my hand are slim. Face it, I have a lot of balls to try this anyway. I'm not a writer.

I believe in this sort of pursuit for artistic reasons only. Writing is so intriguing to me that on a dime I could turn into a cat lady who sits with a pen in my hand in a dark corner of my attic forgetting to eat, drink, shave my legs or talk to anyone for months. Lucky I don't have to support myself.

Meow.

I called the publisher, and the book is doing very well. I think when you put the word libido in the overview it gives way to its erotic possibilities, and everyone likes sex. Even if they don't like sex, they like reading about it. I should have kept the original title, THE BIRTH OF MY LIBIDO, and I could have really made a killing, but I didn't want to scare the children off. Considering you have to be a Kardashian, be caught on a Girls Gone Wild film or kill someone to be published these days, doing it for fun may be the best plan.

I don't care if anyone reads it. I'd do it again.

Dreadly perspective...

I'm in shock that this crazy disease has given me so much. I want nothing. I need nothing. There is not one other way that I would have felt so happy to just BE. I have now embraced something close to the Tao. I've read about it, but I was far too much of this earth, its pleasures and pain to be fully immersed in the calm.

Cancer has given me a tranquility that I've never experienced. I'm a better listener because every sound resonates more crisply. My mind is clearer. There is very little that depresses or worries me. I can sit with fourteen strands of tangled Christmas lights, and feel nothing but peace in slowly undoing the snarl. I enjoy simple tasks that used to annoy me. I'm not in a hurry to get anything done because I can look at every single minute I have here as a gift. I am so grateful to have experienced this. Mostly, I am beyond blessed to be a child of God and know that I will be okay no matter what happens to me. I'm not afraid.

I'm tired after Friday's ordeal, but spent the next day setting our table. I have some little people who are kind of excited to be here on Thursday.

The Tao is so empty,
So hollow.
Yet somehow its usefulness is inexhaustible
It is so very deep
So very profound.
Like the source of everything.

It blunts the sharpest edges
Unties the knots
Softens the glare

It is so very deep
So tranquil
It seems to barely exist at all.
Its origin is unknown
It preceded the Gods themselves.

funny...

finally...

So happy to have this over. Tomorrow is my last chemo right in time for the holiday so I can do what I want for the fam.

Lovin' the holidays this year... I can't wait to workout on Sunday and lift some serious weights. God, do I miss it. I am addicted to that good kinda pain, and the doc today said she couldn't believe how good I looked for having gone through this. I refuse to buckle under the pressure.

Want to know a secret?

Since I've been very young I have always been very attracted and enamored by depressed, dark, bitter and angry men. I won't go into details but I have a pattern that I could (actually) write another book about. I find angry men a challenge. I think depressed men are ones I can fix and make happy - such a delightful undertaking... the more bitter and mean, the better. I imagine I could play crack psychologist to figure out why this is true, but there is no explanation. I'm friendly enough. I don't have a fatherly complex (I don't think) and yet I always find a way to have men in my life who are bossy, and tirelessly willing to make me feel as though there is something really wrong with me - you know, like shit. It doesn't matter whether I've worked with them, they are extended family members, or if they are friends of family members or friends of friends - if they are mean and nasty, I like 'em. No. I just don't like 'em...

I love 'em.

I met Bruce when I was eighteen. He is never angry or bitter. He doesn't criticize or berate. He doesn't confront. Not only that, he never has a problem with me and honors me as if I am a perfect specimen of a woman ---which is a big joke. I have issues on my issues and am an extremely complicated human. He puts up with all kinds of ridiculous illustrations of neediness that would make most men cringe. He doesn't care. I have no idea why I was lucky enough to cross paths with some "boy" from McKeesport, Pa when I was so young whose family is nothing like my own. My grandfather was the President of a college and his grandfather quit school to work in a mill in the sixth grade. He is Jewish - well not really, but he was raised that way and has some Lox/Smoked Fish connections still. Through the years, I haven't a notion as to why we are married considering the obvious polar distance of our needs and background. We are intellectual opposites and have different politics and social mores.

However, I am now in awe of my luck of the draw as a little girl. In the long scheme of things the most important thing two people have in common is family. Amidst the myriad of differences (which has never made any sense to me) there is the one thing we share: a deep abiding family value.

So for as much as I should have probably married a dark, angry, nasty man whom I would have divorced twenty years back, I was one lucky lady. Sometimes what you are drawn to isn't so good for you.

I'm not so sure I believe in fate. I certainly don't believe in marriages made in heaven - that's for sure. But this relationship of ours was a freaking miracle of nature, which has lasted for over forty-two years.

Maybe because we share so little is why we share so much.

Sailing... my way

I'm turning into my mother. There is an old fashioned civility that is missing today, and I can't quite get over it. This isn't just about thank you notes or standing when someone comes into a room. This is something more subtle, and as much as I am not espousing to say that I am mother-of-the-year, I think I may be close.

I told my children that when they would leave my house that they would be gentlemen and a lady. I did my work. I reminded, cajoled, taught, tutored, reprimanded, and pleaded. I spent hours insisting on things that they find inane still, and even today I will remind my thirty-four-year-old son to take his hat off --->at Burger King. I have serious standards, which most people outside of this house are unaware, but I do. Even close friends of mine think I am a little ridiculous, and my paper-plate-at-holiday in-laws can't relate, even remotely. I've spent years making them feel uncomfortable too, because I do not care what anyone thinks. I am the maker of civil humans, and it is a very serious job that I take (um) seriously.

Mother would turn over in her grave now - I think it would by doing the Paso Doble or an Olympic-worthy Triple Walley pole vault of some sort.

My grandchildren will get the benefit of my being raised like Princess Grace. This sort of thing is driven by some bizarre osmosis that has the subtlety of a charm school bulldozer. I am not impressed by children who do not respect their elders, or their teachers. I am not inspired by babies who are precocious and sarcastic. It isn't cute. I've always told my children that although it seems silly, people later in life will like them better, and they will be more successful in their jobs and in social situations if they learn to be civil and well-mannered.

Today's parents are missing the boat, and I think they need to take a little ride on my sailing ship.

Do my kids think I am a massive pain in the ass still? Yes. Am I proud of that?

Damn straight.

Acapella and Marvin? Are you kidding me?

Nothing but voices for bass. No instruments at all. This is talent.

Let Mia transport us to Italia

Rapsodia

I would like
to free you tomorrow
and would like
to see you fly
over the snow-fields, like before.

You, so far away.
even though by now
so near.
And the soul departs
To eternity.
Rhapsody.
I would like
to free your heart
and would like
to stay behind
and pretend to fall.

Because like this you are closer
and can light
my life.
And the soul departs
to eternity.
The soul departs

Because like this you are closer
and can light
my life.
And the soul departs
to eternity.

Gnocchi and Valpolicella anyone?

Ingredients

• 
  
• 
  
• 3 pounds russet potatoes
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 egg, extra large
• 1 pinch salt
• 1/2 cup canola oil

Directions

Boil the whole potatoes until they are soft (about 45 minutes). While still warm, peel and pass through vegetable mill onto clean pasta board.

Set 6 quarts of water to boil in a large spaghetti pot. Set up ice bath with 6 cups ice and 6 cups water near boiling water.

Make well in center of potatoes and sprinkle all over with flour, using all the flour. Place egg and salt in center of well and using a fork, stir into flour and potatoes, just like making normal pasta. Once egg is mixed in, bring dough together, kneading gently until a ball is formed. Knead gently another 4 minutes until ball is dry to touch.

Roll baseball-sized ball of dough into 3/4-inch diameter dowels and cut dowels into 1-inch long pieces. Flick pieces off of fork or concave side of cheese grater until dowel is finished. Drop these pieces into boiling water and cook until they float (about 1 minute). Meanwhile, continue with remaining dough, forming dowels, cutting into 1-inch pieces and flicking off of fork. As gnocchi float to top of boiling water, remove them to ice bath. Continue until all have been cooled off. Let sit several minutes in bath and drain from ice and water. Toss with 1/2 cup canola oil and

store covered in refrigerator up to 48 hours until ready to serve.

Ciao!

today...

The chemo has built up in my system and I feel weak and breathless tonight. It makes me begin to dwell on what these chemicals are really doing to the healthy cells in my body. It is clear that I am not the firecracker I used to be. I'm not sure if this is chemo or what sixty just feels like. Getting old is a bit unnerving. I guess it could be worse.

Siddhartha and Glinda

I've met so many nice people through this experience. Cancer is a club I never wanted to join, but it is shocking that you can't bring up the word to anyone without a story - their story. Many times it ends sadly with the death of their sister, friend or granny, but there is always a story.

The latest one was as I was embarking on #3 of chemo 2. As I sat in the waiting room a scrawny woman with very long hair sat beside me. I asked her if she had an appointment and she said - "oh yes." And I said... well look at you, as I jutted my chin towards her long hair. She said, "oh my - it has been 20 years since my melanoma and I have had lots of years to grow it back." I asked her if she was scared for her appointment. It was none of my business but when you are in the cancer club, you are allowed to talk about personal things to others in the club. She said "she was terrified." After being in remission for 20 years, she had to get her petscan every year, and every year is terrified for its return. The fear is a part of every day existence. I understood.

I'm reading a book that is the overview of Buddhist thought called Siddhartha. It is about young man who leaves his father's home to find his bliss - he is unhappy and is very sure that it is out there to be found. So, he goes on a journey - one of deprivation, and then one of money and privledge. But he comes to the conclusion that it is within him that he can find the true bliss of things so simple that they cannot be explained. He suddenly walks around seeing every nuance of beauty and describes everything in grand, glorious detail.

"All of this had always existed, and he had not seen it; he had not been with it. Now he was with it, he was part of it. Light and shadow ran through his eyes, stars and moon ran through his heart."

This is what the cancer club gives you. I walk around with the bliss that was always there. Kind of like the Wizard of Oz and Glinda. She says, "Home is a place we all must find, child. It's not just a place where you eat or sleep. Home is knowing. Knowing your mind, knowing your heart, knowing your courage. If we know ourselves, we're always home, anywhere."

I adore this new fear, which has opened my eyes to the beauty within myself.

Joe Pa et al...

This is such a good lesson on doing the right thing even when you aren't sure of the backlash. Coming forward may upset your family, make you lose your job, reevaluate your standing, your money, your degree or your friends but it isn't worth barfing all over your integrity. Honesty is part of a truthful life. If you don't know how to be honest, you lose what matters. If you aren't part of the solution you are equally part of the problem.

Honesty doesn't always come in a cute little wrapped package with a bow. Sometimes it is dirty and difficult. At times it may even be scary and out-of-the-box. The one who gets me is McQueary who could have saved that child on the spot. What a bunch of pathetic losers...

Be careful what you ignore.

sexy mama 11.11.11

hahahahah. How hot are the PCDs? Who the hell am I? Granny who?

(who put the Al-Qaeda bridge in here? Huh? Was it you Snoop Dog??)

whaaaaaa

Rant:

I am so damn tired of people and their depression. Tonight I'm thinking about those people who are so self-involved that they have nothing better to do but think too much, worry too much, and dwell on all things about... you got it:

themselves.

I do have some specific people in mind but won't bother to mention names. I can look back on my life and realize that I, too, had spent a good deal of time doing the same thing - wondering why my mother never called, or why this person said this or that person said that. Whyyyyyyy blah blah blah. I find it quite comical now, but that is only after evolving into this other person who (of course) has cancer... the larger-than-life, horrifying Big C death threat. I can say now that I don't know where I begin and where the cancer ends. Oh yes, it all sounds so cliche, but nevertheless one does change with this sort of horror.

I would rather live three and a half more years, be cremated, hang out on a mantle in a cloissonne urn with this perspective than living another thirty years as the self-absorbed downer that I used to be. People tell me, oh Sal, you have such a great attitude. What the heck do I have to be sad about? I'm not hungry, homeless, abused, or neglected. Am I living the middle-class dream? You betcha.

What does that mean, really? Unlike rich people or wannbe rich people, I am truly satisfied with what I have.

Give me a blue sky, a nice cup-a-joe and no bullshit and I'm in hog heaven.

That's a gift.

two more chemo-pricks to go...

I know that sounds like the fun kind of prick, but not particularly....

My biggest fear are now those needles, which ends up being more mind over matter. It isn't that it hurts so much but knowing that they have very creative ways now (over and over and over) to get that infusion in my arm - even if it means putting the damn needle between my two fingers or on the back of my hand. Owww.

ha!

Lot's o' Laughter is my best med hands down

Ride Sally Ride

I'm doing great and am considering a date with the Stairmaster this morning (which could give me a heart attack) but my brain tells me I can do it.

I'm just a wee bit nauseous. I can do it. I am, after all...

Sally.

Well alright then...

Times are harder now
then they've ever been before
(Don't be discouraged)
So much hurt and pain
that it seems so hard to bare
(You gotta remember)

Faith is the only thing
that you can count on
Stand on His promises
that you may be strong

I'm here to let you know
there's always hope for you and me
In spite of what it feels like

Well alright,
Keepin' ya head up high no matter cause
It's Alright
Believing a change gon' come today or even tonight
And He's gonna answer every little prayer
Just hold on, wait and see
you know it's gonna be alright.

Crying all night long
feeling like you're so alone
(But don't you worry)
Cause season's have to change
It won't always be this way (so just remember)

Love is the only key
that opens every door
Releases everything
All that you need and more
I've got to let you know
there's always hope for you and me
In spite of what it seems like

There's so much life
to live for
Joy and happiness instore

There's so much more
you can be
Buy you gotta ask and you'll receive
Alright, Alright, Alright

CHEMO!

time for the poison to kill my poison...

WARNINGS (thrilling)
Rituxan can cause serious side effects that can lead to death, including:

• Infusion Reactions: Serious infusion reactions can happen during the infusion or within 24 hours of receiving Rituxan.Patients must tell their doctor or get medical help right away if they get any of these symptoms: hives (itchy red welts) or rash, itching, swelling of the lips, tongue, throat, or face, sudden cough, shortness of breath, difficulty breathing or wheezing, weakness, dizziness or feel faint, palpitations (feel like your heart is racing or fluttering) chest pain.
• Progressive Multifocal Leukoencephalopathy (PML): PML is a rare, serious brain infection caused by a virus. People with a weakened immune system can get PML. PML can result in death or severe disability. Patients must tell their doctor right away if they have any of the following symptoms: confusion or problems thinking, loss of balance, change in the way they walk or talk, decreased strength or weakness on one side of their body, blurred vision or loss of vision.
• Tumor Lysis Syndrome (TLS): TLS is caused by the fast breakdown of cancer cells and can occur after treatment with Rituxan. TLS can cause a person to have kidney failure and the need for dialysis treatment. TLS may also cause abnormal heart rhythm.
• Severe Skin and Mouth Reactions: Patients may get painful sores on the skin or in the mouth, ulcers, blisters, or peeling skin while receiving or after receiving Rituxan.

taken these sunkin eyes...

Chemo again tomorrow, and I can feel its effect, but I'm trying to let go of the emotion in it which makes it worse. The bad part of it now is the amount of times it takes the nurses to find a vein, which have been collapsing lately. I don't have a port, but sometimes I wish I did. My arms are all black and blue from the last time they tortured me on Friday.

The young nurse won't have a chance with me, and I tell her that I only like the older fat girls, but thank you anyway. They put me out with Benadryl so most of it ends up being a blur...

Such a lovely rainy day today... I love the rain, and I think I must be the only person in the world who just loves the house dark and the dog snuggled up next to me with a good book. Why do people need sunny days all the time? I'm thinking that there is a possibility that they just like complaining. Yin/Yang, black/white, high/low, good/bad, soft/hard, crunchy/creamy... I love it all.

a gift

I wish everyone who is down or depressed could have the fear of cancer for ten minutes. I think most people are far too unaware of how lucky they are to be walking through the day without fear, pain, anxiety or uncertainty.

We are all going to die, but if you knew when it was, would you be different? Would you act a bit nicer to people? Would you choose to do things that were more fun; more satisfying? We all have the end of life in the back of our mind, but we never stop to realize that we only get one shot here. It isn't a dress rehearsal, and if you treat it without honor and respect you are losing something in the mix.

I wonder as I wake up in the middle of the night (every night) whether this dread I feel over dying too young is somewhat of an advantage. I no longer hang around with people I don't like. If someone shows me that they are petty or negative, my life is too damn short to spend any time around them. I am easier-going when I've broken something, when I am running late, or if I can't find my keys. What is the worst thing that can happen? Recently, I've lost my wedding pictures. I thought I put them in a certain book, but when I went to grab them, they weren't there. I don't care. If the generation after my grandchildren gives a shit (at all) it will be an absolute miracle. What is this fear over not living forever? Face it. You aren't going to. So, the best you can do is to make the most of what you have while you are here. The only way to truly live on is to have people remember you. I would like to be remembered the good way, not "gee, the bitch died" so bye-bye way.

I hope to have accomplished that, and continue to live for others which, when it is all said and done, is the only thing there really is. If you can make yourself happy in the process, good for you. Funny thing is, doing for others does make you happy. At least it's works for me.

It's a sparse life living only for yourself. Each to his own, but it's not for me.