May

Washed, dried and folded 1,242 tablecloths.
Brooke & Corey got married.
Corbin & Nancy got engaged.
PAP normal - yay, another year without cancer.
Oh, but wait - mammo abnormal.
Right hand surgery.
Mother's Day - text only from Nancy and Corbin.
Came down with massive cold/bronchitis.
Angie's husband died.
Mammo re-check - mammo, mammo, ultrasound, biopsy, mammo.
Pause 2 days.
All clear.
Three year anniversary of Dad's death.
Steve moved out. I kept Lydia.
Doobert transport - Steve had to help because of my surgery.
Sick as a dead pig.
Stitches removed - healing well.
Picked Lainie up from airport. Loaned her my car for a week.
Mike's memorial (couldn't go; still sick + no car).
My 59th birthday. Text from Brooke first thing in morning, and from Corbin last thing at night.
In re severe depression, made appointment for psych intake/evaluation.
Treated to dinner by Steve, Lydia and Bill.
Janet turned 33.
Joel & Janet's 3rd anniversary.
Still coughing.
Took Lainie to airport.

Steve moved out

Water Heater Fubar of 2013 (part 2)

So...the water heater did, indeed, get fully installed and just in time. Joel and Janet arrived just as our fabulous plumber, Clint, was packing up to go home. Water heater (woohoo!):

I know, it looks like every other water heater in the world, but we're dang glad to have her.

Steve and I have been rebuilding the damaged wall. I'm the insulation installer and he's the master of correct measurements for the drywall. We team up on the actual installation, then I follow up with the tape and joint compound.

Still looks unimpressive, but we're happy to get the wall sealed up. The joint compound is drying as we speak, and I'm still trying to decide if I want to take the trouble to prime and paint that wall since everything's moved away from it right now.

On the bedroom side, there was previously only one outlet on that wall. As we all know, that's never enough in this here 21st century, so I worked my girl-power magic and turned one into three.

I am now in the process of re-insulating the bedroom side but with our schedules it's likely we won't get that side of the wall sealed up until next weekend.

Meanwhile, this happened.

Water Heater Fubar of 2013 (part 1)

Sunday morning we got up and discovered the shower water just wouldn't warm up. Suspecting the pilot in the water heater may have gone out, Steve went out to check it and this is what he found.

The ~15 year old beast had burst inside and was spewing water out the top, up into the vent. Of course the water would then trickle back down and all over the damn place. No telling how long this had been going on.

The "man cave" shares a wall with the garage. Steve checked in there and, sure enough, the carpet was sopping wet. I grabbed a pair of pliers for him, he started pulling the carpet back. As he pulled, the baseboard just kind of melted off like it was made of mush. That's when we discovered the mold behind the baseboards.

Steve tried to clean up a bit and set up some fans* while I called the insurance company. As soon as the claim was opened, I tackled Angie's List and began calling plumbers. Remember, this was Sunday.

*It turns out that's a no-no. Air movement blows the nasty microbes around.

Monday I got three quotes, then called my neighbor's husband's brother's neighbor who quoted me half what everyone else had. Same unit, just not gouging me on the labor. He gave me his company's name and I learned the BBB gives them an A rating. No complaints!

Also on Monday, the insurance adjuster contacted us. He was very nice and said he'd have a restoration company call us within an hour. They did, and that afternoon they were out to inspect and measure.

Tuesday, right on schedule, the Rainbow Restoration crew arrived and started demolishing the affected areas. The drywall and insulation had to be removed across the entire wall and up about four feet.

They sanded and hepa-vacuumed all the areas that showed mold. Then they sprayed everything with an anti-microbial solution and set up a machine that allegedly sucks up any stray microbes floating around in the air. They also set up a big dehumidifier. All this is on the bedroom side. The garage side got a big sheet of plastic stapled to it which will stay in place until we can reconstruct the garage wall tomorrow.

The box/stand under the water tank also had to be removed. It was pretty badly rotted.

Tomorrow Steve and I will fetch some drywall and rebuild the area where the new tank will go. (Yes, I investigated replacing it with a tankless system but it would have been three grand - t'would pay for itself in a mere 20 years or so.) We will also, of course, need to put in a new stand.

Since Sunday, we've been "bucket bathing" -- warming water in pans on the stove, then carting them to the shower to wash. It's actually not feeling like too much of a hassle (thank you, Lexapro) and the new tank's scheduled to be installed either Wednesday or Thursday evening. Just in time for house guests!

My cat needs a tummy tuck

I think I’m having a mid-life crisis, which is really frightening when you do the math. It means I’ll live to be 110 and I just can’t afford that. Nevertheless, I’m becoming very introspective and analytical about my life. I’m seeing all the aspects that I really don’t like and thinking about what I can do to change things. This is both good and bad. Change of this sort can be very good for me, in the long run, but bad for others who would be impacted by changes I might choose to make.

I think I will die when I’m 84. All things considered, doesn’t 2042 sound like a good year to die? And if that is the year of my last breath, that means I have 29 years left.

I'm 648 months old today

That is to say, my body is 648 months old. My brain is sometimes 25 and sometimes 97. 

'Sup? Anyone still following this blog?

LONG TIME NO WRITE

Some of you know...some of you don't...the reason for the looonnnggggg gap between posts here. My last post was January 6th! On January 11th I was diagnosed with Stage 1B endo-cervical cancer.

January was spent riding an emotional roller coaster and getting every test known to mankind. By February it was determined that, while it had not metastasized, it was an "aggressively growing" tumor that, obviously, required immediate treatment. Chemo and radiation started in February and lasted until the first part of May.

I actually fared quite well in that I didn't barf once (thank you, modern medicine!) and my hair thinned but did not all fall out. I did lose my sense of taste for everything except sweets, which sucked because I'm not normally a sweet-eater. But since that's all I could taste, that's all I wanted to eat. Probably because of that, I only lost 10 pounds during treatment. Darn it!

Although I haven't gotten the final "all-clear" from the docs yet, we anticipate it will be so, so for my birthday Koby and Brooke made me tumor cakes.

before	after

And here's a pic of some of the awesome chocolate-covered strawberries I made as thank you gifts for my doctors nurses:

TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE TIME OFF

I've been off work since the first week of February, and am still. Being a generally active/productive person, I went into this thinking the side-effects of treatment would be so minimal it would amount to a vacation from work. Yeah, I'd nap now and then, but mostly I would take advantage of the time to catch up on all those home improvement projects that have been sitting on my whiteboard for months and years. Ha!

While I did make a decision about kitchen flooring, it hasn't been ordered. I still haven't made a final decision about color for the kitchen and dining room walls. My shower, which has been in sore need of a complete overhaul since I bought the place in 1987, remains status quo. The gate still needs to be replaced, the back yard still yearns for paving, and the pond still has a leak. Oh yeah, and I totally forgot to write the great American novel.

Recuperation has mainly consisted of getting lots of sleep. I've read nearly a book a week. I also watched as a close friend of ours rebuilt our rotting patio roof while Steve assisted. That was exhausting for me. I also got to enjoy a weekend with my besty, Debbi!

B.E.B. IS SMARTER NOW

My favorite daughter-in-law graduated from U.C. Davis last week. Her degree is in genetics and she's set to start her first actual grown-up job this coming Monday at a lab in West Sac. We're all uber-proud of her!!!  

THE DERVISH WHIRLS
 
Last weekend Steve and I went to Joel's for a visit. It was all too quick, as all our visits are, and I'm looking forward to Joel coming up on the train in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, we have Landon. We brought him back with us just for the fun of it and so "Gamma" as well as Uncle Koby and Auntie Brooke could have some quality time with the kid before Gamma has to go back to work July 5th.

Landon, now two and a half, is getting lots and lots of words, some of which are actually intelligible. I hope to record him while he's here, as I recorded Joel and Koby when they were toddlers.

Landon is almost constantly in motion. The picture above represents the only time he holds still: when he's watching a Toy Story movie (aka "toy-oy-oy-oy-oy"). I'll post more pics of him in the coming days.

Gamma feels exhausted and has realized she may not be fully recuperated.

=*=*=*=*=

And now, a footnote relative to a NY Times article I heard about on NPR yesterday...

Six Things You Should Never Say to a Friend (or Relative or Colleague) Who’s Sick. And Four Things You Can Always Say

So at the risk of offending some well-meaning people, as Bruce Feiler says in his own rant, I'd like to add a few DON'Ts of my own:

• "I can't tell you how horrible I feel for not having come to visit you!"
  Trust me, I feel horrible enough. I don't care or need to hear how horrible you feel for not having assuaged your own guilt over ____ (fill in the blank).

• "You need to get a handle on this whole depression thing. Buck up!"
  Screw you and the happy horse you rode in on. I'll be depressed if I want to. Unless I'm in the fetal position in the back corner of my closet, trying to open a vein with a bobby pin and drooling out of one side of my mouth, leave me alone. Sometimes I need to cry, and I don't have the energy to concern myself with how uncomfortable that may make you.

• "This may not be the only time you'll go through this."
  Seriously?? This one defies explanation.

• "When you're finished with all this, let me tell you....."
  Whatever the issue is that you're dealing with, I'm sure it's of paramount importance to you but it pales in comparison to what's happening in my own universe. I really don't have any room for your stuff in here. Really. I don't want to hear it.

The most helpful words I received were from Steve, immediately after the initial diagnosis. He said, "It's all about you now. Nothing else matters." That meant I didn't need anyone's permission to say no and I didn't have to waste any energy on feeling guilty about how others might feel when I set my boundaries. He was right, and he supported me in that vein throughout my ordeal, even though he ultimately had to deal with the consequences of those words himself.

to all my reader

Hi, Mick!

ADD + OCD = MOM

There is a point, while packing for a trip, when I'm pretty sure I've got everything in the suitcase, yet I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting something. It's completely maddening, like being caught in a cycle of lather-rinse-repeat.

I'm headed to Spokane early tomorrow morning, returning Friday afternoon. Then, after a week at home, I fly north again for three days. I dread the travel. Every time, I wonder if there's some bargain I can make with the clock, the calendar, the travel arrangement gods, so that I can go by car or train instead of by air. It never works out.

Flying in the 21st century is about as fun as birthing an overweight porcupine. Backwards. Not that I've ever birthed an overweight porcupine, forwards or backwards, but I'm pretty sure the analogy would hold up in a court of law.

Mother's Day was quiet this year. That means I had only 50% of my kids with me. (To the 50% who were here, please don't think that indicates any depreciation of the importance of you being with me on that day.) (To the 50% who weren't here, your guilt bomb has been delivered. You're welcome. Sarma's in the mail, just to put the final sheen on it.)

PS - Happy MD, Mom. Even though I didn't call you, you didn't send me a guilt bomb. Kudos for that.

Happy Martyr's Day

The weather was perfect: 78 on Saturday, 80 with a slight breeze on Sunday. Having done most of my prep work Friday afternoon, I was ready for the Martyr's Day Feast!

Lamb Shish Kebab

Pear and Filo Torte

Cheese Boreg & Hye coffee

We had salad, too, but that was boring so I didn't take any pictures of it. I also grilled some chicken breasts for the odars.

	Cory came up from Modesto.
	Koby and Brooke came over from Davis.

Villa Toscano

Steve and I had a wonderful weekend. Saturday, he spent the day with Sara and her new beau, and I went off to pick oranges with friends at Amber's house. After a few hours of enjoying all the good company and the fire pit and munchies, Bill and I went off to relax over a cuppa at Starbucks.

Sunday morning Steve and I met a new friend for coffee, then took off from there and got happily lost driving all over hill & dale in the gold country (Hwy 49 south of Placerville). After enjoying the rolling hills, the moss-covered rocky crags, and the occasional mist in the trees (or was that just our imaginations?), we eventually found our intended destination.

We landed at Villa Toscano Winery, where we are evidently members. We needed to pick up our January selection. First, though, we did some tasting, then had some hot sannies in the bistro. We then went on to some other wineries in the area, tasted more, and bought more.

Sunset found us at our favorite Mexican restaurant in Folsom. They offer unique dishes, excellent Long Island Iced Teas, and a friendly staff. We think it's a great place to munch the hot chips and fresh chipotle salsa, and relax at the end of the day.

Welcome to Villa Toscano, as you enter through the verdigris gates.

Some of the vineyards surrounding the winery.

 This is just the view of the "bistro." The main building with the tasting room is much prettier and can be see on their website.

 Now leaving through those same gorgeous gates.

On Being Armenian

One of my greatest fears in life is that I will grow too old and infirm to care for myself, and my handlers won't pluck my mustache.

Vacation Weekend #1

It's a crazy time, this. Spike (my ex-father-in-law, with whom I remain close) turned 95 on the 22nd. I had spent the better part of the summer trying to get the family down to Fullerton to visit him, to no avail. Either someone couldn't get the time off, or someone else couldn't afford it, or someone else had something else planned. It was ridiculous. So when Koby got Friday the 23rd off, I figured it was now or never.

After putting our plans in action, I found out that the extended family will be there on the 30th to celebrate his birthday with a big family BBQ get-together. Well...Koby couldn't change his days off so we kept our plan for Brooke, Koby and I to go down the weekend of Oct 24-25, and Steve and I will go down Oct 30-Nov 1.

Spike still lives alone, which is a testament to his ... tenacity? stubbornness? resiliency? For 95 years old, he is truly amazing, trimming trees, painting the kitchen, etc., etc. He's looking at surgery soon to get the battery in his pacemaker replaced. He's outlived four of them so far!

So, with no further ado, and too much tiredness to be any more creative, here are some visuals from our weekend with Spike and our stop in Visalia on the way home for a bite of Landon.

Come back next week for more photos from the Musso family's celebration-of-Spike's-95th-birthday-and-excuse-for-a-BBQ-and-get-together!

Welcome Feedback

I got an amazing piece of feedback on my blog today. Te (aka "Annie Maugham") said:

"Reading your blog creates the same sort of effect that some people get from meditation. It's quite uplifting."

Prrrrrr....

Corvallis

Steve and I took a small vacation. We left Thursday evening and flew to Portland, where Lainie and Paul picked us up at PDX. After a dinner in the airport that was better than standard airport food, there was the long drive back to their place. I had forgotten how long that drive was and it made me feel bad for them, and grateful for them.

Friday we lounged around, rested some, read some, and generally just took it easy until about 5:00. After a light, early supper of fabulous salad concocted by Miss Lainie, we headed over to the OSU campus. Turns out waiting was a very good idea. Silly us, we thought we'd escape the summer heat by flying north, but it was 95 up there on Friday!

By that late in the afternoon, though, we skipped over the hottest part of the day. We wandered through "Green Town" to see all the displays of "green" innovations. We learned about making cob, saw a people-sized camera obscura (that was closed for the day, but we made a note of it), watched the tail end of the kinetic sculpture introductions, and enjoyed looking at all the electric vehicles on display. I discovered I want to make a greenwall.

There were also community art projects happening outside the entry gates. The theme of this year's festival was water, or rather, "H2 Oh!" Folks had created freestanding art accordingly. Lainie covered a flat, fish-shaped piece of wood with paper printed in a sushi graphic, attached a depiction of an Elvis movie to the front of it, and added the Darkside logo. She called it "Dinner And a Movie." Even if people couldn't guess her title for the piece, we could tell they loved it, as we spied many, many visitors shooting pictures of it!

Friday night we saw the Jacob Merlin band open for Cherry Poppin' Daddies. Jacob Merlin was really pretty great; CPD was great at the beginning and end but, I have to admit, kinda boring in the middle of their show.

It was a late night for these two who are used to nodding off by about 9:00. By the time we got home and relaxed, it was about 1:00. Some of us slept delightfully late Saturday morning. After breakfast and showers, we got a bit of an earlier start, though. The weather was cooler than Friday and we got out to the campus by about 11:00 to discover the sidewalk chalk art. It was a lot of fun wandering around checking it out and, thankfully, we remembered our camera that day!

Unfortunately, Paul had to work most of the day. While Lainie went off on her own to see the Wave Exhibit, Steve and I checked out the Art Village. The carousel animal restorations were amazingly gorgeous.

We sat awhile, listening to Common Pulse and Bon Ton Roulet at the Shady Stage. After pigging out on festival food Friday and half of Saturday, I discovered an amazing salad at one of the stands. It was spinach and mixed greens with strawberries, dried cranberries, candied pecans and a balsamic vinaigrette. Oh, man! It was absolutely delightful to eat such a cool, fresh, healthy meal in the shade while listening to those bands!

Behind us, on the Main Stage, a sound check for that night's headliner had begun. After hearing the usual, "One, two check. Ooonneee, twwwooooo, CHK!" for about five minutes, I glanced over my shoulder and saw in the distance several bodies standing at several microphones. Without waiting to figure out if what I was seeing was what I thought I was seeing, I jumped up (as much as my old bones can jump up from sitting on the ground) and raced across the grass. I was right! It was them! Out of their usual costume, dressed in kakhis and polo shirts, there were my boys! No one at the festival seemed to be paying attention, except for about ten of us who settled to the ground on the only patch of shade available, about 10 feet from where they stood.

Those of you who know me and my past must know that I am not easily starstruck. In fact, 99% of musicians kind of piss me off. Not these guys. I worship them. I've been wanting to see them live since the mid-80's. Now, not only was I seeing them live, but I was almost in their personal bubbles! It was like they were doing a pre-concert concert just for ME!

Ladysmith Black Mambazo is a group of guys from South Africa, an a capella group, spreading peace, love and joy as they tour the world. Whenever I talk about them to people, I generally get the same response: "I've never heard of them." Yes you have, but you don't know it. Think back to Paul Simon's big hit, Diamonds on The Souls of Her Shoes. Remember the smooth harmonies and African beat in the background? That was Ladysmith.

Their less commercial music stirs something very deep inside me. I sat there on the grass, completely rapt in their presence. They did three numbers. At the end of it, I wept.

After a bit, we three went off to meet up with Paul at a Mexican restaurant in town. Giggles, really good food, blessed hydration - it was a good dinner break for all of us. Paul then had to go back to the theater to work until closing; Lainie, Steve and I headed back to the festival.

While Steve was great about schlepping the lawn chairs and picking a spot with a view right up the aisle for that night's musical events, Lainie and I wandered the chalk pictures some more. There were so many really great ones! We found Steve and settled in to wait.

A band from Zimbabwe called Bongo Love was opening that night. They weren't bad, but we all agreed they just didn't have "the groove." Maybe that was why we didn't notice - or care - that because of the aisle all we could see was people's butts as they wandered up and down, looking for a spare piece of grass on which to sit. When Ladysmith started their portion of the show, it only took a few minutes for me to know this Just Wasn't Going To Work For Me. Lainie and I both popped up and wandered forward, eventually finding some friends who allowed us to sit at their feet. This put us about 75 feet from center stage - a pretty good vantage point.

I don't know if I can describe the show without gushing too much. They were energized. They were funny. They were glorious, golden gods. (See?)

Because Lainie was a VIP (on the Board of Directors for the festival), she managed to do some schmoozing and get us backstage after the show. I bought a DVD and most of the boys sicned it for me (some were still cooling their heels in the RVs). We all shook hands, took a couple of pics, and there were huge smiles all around. When it became clear I'd have to let go and wouldn't be able to bring them all home with me, we made our exit and floated home.

I know I'll never lose affection

My friend nakedjen recently blogged about how each of us should have a theme song. While I'm sure it's true for most that a "favorite" song may change from time to time, it is my opinion that a theme song is more lasting, more evocative of one's true Self.

My theme song is one that is a favorite to a lot of people I know. It was the song Dino and I danced to at our wedding reception. It is on a cassette recording I have, immediately preceding the recording of my first child's fetal heartbeat; every time I listen to it I expect that squishy little "thump-bump, thump-bump" to follow. While mourning the death of my marriage, it helped me to eschew bitterness and put one foot in front of the other with a peaceful, loving heart. It came on the radio and caused me to weep with joy as I drove home from the birth of my first grandchild. I hope that it will be played at my after-death party when the time comes.

Here is my theme song. For added love, listen to it while checking out the cuteness below the video.

Positivity is Weird?

That's sad. No, not that someone is hugging their shipments before sending them out into the world. It's sad that something that's intended to send out positive energy is thought of and referred to as "weird."

I was "blessed" with very good brain chemistry. I'm a "glass is half full" kind of person. Although I do try to be sensitive to others who have more negative synapses bouncing around, I think of my encounters with them as an opportunity to spread some of my good juju.

As long as I can remember -- not always, but more commonly than I would hope -- my positivity has been met with either suspicion ("What's she hiding?") or condescension ("She's nuts if she thinks everyone can just flip a switch and be happy.")

Why is it you're crazy if you're smiling, singing or humming while pushing your shopping cart?

Why is it so zany to wave all your fingers at your neighbors?

Why is it offensive or insensitive to speak positively about your finances, your child's birth, your relationship with your teen...?

It would seem to me that it is because SOME PEOPLE LOVE TO BE VICTIMS. Not me, and I'm sure not you, but most people. And if you even suggest to these people that they can magically eschew victimhood, negativity, depression, they scoff. At the very least.

If my mood or my words, which are clearly not shooting out of me like weapons, seem to you at first to be crazy, unusual, offensive or insensitive, is it because they threaten a paradigm you hold about yourself? Can you not just try them on to see if they fit?

I'm not saying that everyone has to be like me (although that would ROCK!). It's just that I know this concept has been true for me in my own experience. When I felt offended or threatened by someone else, it was an opportunity for me to dissect that experience. Try it on. Keep it if I like it; return it if I don't. No big deal.

NOW SMILE!

Bye-Bye Facebook

Since one of the (many) reasons I deleted my Facebook account this morning has to do with the amount of time it was sucking out of my day, I won't spend a lot of time on this post. Besides, it seems as though everything I could say about Facebook's suckage has already been said...and more.

In the end, I really don't need an application like Facebook to stay in touch with my friends and family. We can, as my friend NakedJen pointed out in her own blog yesterday, maintain contact the old fashioned way: by email...or phone...or chicken scratches under a postage stamp.

Multiple Personality Disorder

I've decided I hate blogs. As soon as you publicize your blog - as soon as you let your family and friends know about it - you're officially screwed. You can no longer write whatever spills from your brain. The free-wheeling, expressive, no-holds-barred you that sits on your right shoulder is thenceforth whipped into submission by the diplomatic, peace-loving, for-god's-sake-don't-ever-hurt-anyone's-feelings censor that lives on your left shoulder.

To remedy this, I have personally ended up with four, count 'em, four blogs. Not counting the ones I've started and abandoned. Four is too much for me to keep up with. Plus, I find myself gnashing my teeth every time I try to write to this one that you're reading right now. This one that I've let my family and friends know about.

Odd, isn't it? I am in love with honesty. I subscribe to (what I like to think is) reality. I appreciate few things in this world more than nakedness of the soul. Yet I find myself couching every word. Maybe it's because I get to hear so much sh!t from others when I do/say/be what I think is right. Maybe it's simply because I'm a damn Gemini and can see both sides and don't want anyone to be unhappy.

All of my life I've kept a journal. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if my mom told me I had come out of the womb carrying a gel pen and a spiral notebook. When I became a computer geek and realized I could type almost as fast as I could think, I began keeping my journal on my computer. I wrote nearly every day like that for, oh, 12 odd years. (And, boy, were they odd! ba-dump-bump-chaa!) Then came the day when, with one quick, innocent click of the mouse, I accidentally wiped out those odd years. Didn't mean to. Nearly vomited when I realized I had. Didn't have a proper back-up. That's when I started journaling on the WWW. Back-up problem solved! New problem created.

So, in summary, this sucks and I do not yet know of a solution. I am not interested in writing for the general public; my writing is All About Me. Perhaps abandoning three of my blogs and keeping only the Very Top Secret one is how I will have to proceed. How boring.