winter whoop ass

My high school friend, Peg, sent this snow angel!

Thousands of people flap their arms and legs in unison, creating angel imprints, during a world record attempt for the most snow angels, in Bismarck, N.D., Saturday, Feb. 17, 2007. Organizers said they believe almost nine thousand people took part in the event. The previous world record was 3,784. (AP Photo/Will Kincaid)

 Regis took these pictures of the birds at our feeder yesterday. Those cardinals are there for you, Deb!

So, even though it's icy and cold, we are not suffering. We had a wonderful day yesterday. It was so gloomy and depressing in the morning with the freezing rain that we went back to bed. Richie, the chili fairy, left a bowl of chili on the step along with a box of crackers. She's like meals on wheels! Nice...take a nap and lunch appears on your front step.

I got dressed in a long skirt and fancy shoes, then made beef stew and pretzel brownies. I had time to take a nice long nap in the afternoon again.

Young Regis came over with his puppy, Ace, in the late afternoon and had stew with us...and a pretzel brownie. Peanut Butter Pretzel Brownies have become the dessert of the winter. Brought to you by the fine folks at Putney Farms. Here is the recipe. A little extra work and a bit of a mess to eat but so worth it.

in case you've forgotten the value of a good rant

The yellow orb in the sky is called the sun. It's what makes grass grow in summer and ice melt in winter. It helps us know when night is over and day is breaking. It helps us get out of bed in the morning and keeps us from jumping off the Minnesota River bridge during the endless winter.

We haven't seen the sun in quite a while. Last Tuesday, I was making snow angels in the yard and held my position for a while to watch the clouds pass in the blue sky. All of a sudden, it was all gray again. That was the last sighting of the sun.

Every day the damn weather forecasters (also known as agents of the devil) say it will be partly cloudy or partly sunny or 50% chance of partly sunny to partly cloudy. Some bullshit. It's just a tease. Don't fall for it.

In the absence of sun in the winter, I will take a blizzard. A good, old-fashioned three days blizzard where you can't possibly get your car out of the driveway so you trudge to the bar to make sure your friends are all safe.

Now they promise us a blizzard. For the last four days, they have been talking up this big snow event. Winter storm watch, blizzard warning, snowmageddon. More bullshit. Regis went down to gas up the snow blower almost guaranteeing there will be no snow.

I understand that the difference of a degree or two can make the difference between snow, ice, and rain. I also understand that 50% chance of partly this or that is a way to hedge your bets.

So, there's my weather rant.

Regis tells me that people can go on Craig's List and rant about things. Maybe these are people who need a public voice and they should start a blog or start posting profusely on Facebook. Craig's List does not seem like a credible venue for anything.

But I guess if you have a rant in your head, better to let it out. Like cuss words. That stuff gets backed up and it can be bad. Mike thinks it can cause brain tumors so I drop an F bomb from time to time. Just as a precaution, you know.

Calvin knows the value of a good rant.

doin' the big sleep

 Me at exercise class.

Gus in the morning. He has such a happy face.

Regis in his Regis University cap driving us to exercise class.

I slept for two hours yesterday afternoon, went to bed at 9 and slept until 9:30 this morning. I'm having trouble feeling alert, even after two cups of coffee.

We exercised yesterday morning, had breakfast at Guenther's, then I had a two hour massage by a friend down the street. Oh, my. It was like being transported. Hence, the two hour nap.

We were invited to have dinner last night with Anders and Judie. Such a good meal, great company, and a very relaxing time. We always have so many things to talk about and I can feel Jan's spirit in the house...all her books, her glassware, her presence.

All in all, a most pleasant day.

I talked to Mom this morning, Ella is coming to make Valentines, and Regis says he is going to the store to get the fixings for Peanut Butter Pretzel Brownies. It's all his favorite flavors in one food item. Today has the markings of a good day, too.

We're waiting for the big blizzard. Or what might be a big blizzard. We're under a winter storm watch and a blizzard watch simultaneously which seems odd but then they issue the disclaimer that it could be rain. Well, let's cover all the bases (or asses) at one time.

Yesterday, they said it was going to be partly cloudy. That must mean total gray because I haven't seen a hint of the sun since Tuesday when I was making snow angels.

Blechh to the gray weather. Need to open a can of whoop ass. Maybe two.

keeping everyone up-to-date

I survived my second treatment of Paclitaxel just fine. The benedryl makes me lethargic but not enough to sleep sitting up in a brightly lit room.

I've been getting inquiries about how I am really doing which makes me think I am either not doing as well as I think I am or I am not communicating it to the people who are not blog readers. This morning, I wrote a letter that I can send to friends and family who may not have the detail they want. Breast cancer is a big disease with a huge range of kinds and severity. I'll reproduce it here for anyone who is a recent subscriber and has an aversion to archives. If you're curious, reading through November and December is the best illustration of the evolution of my acceptance of my diagnosis.

Here you go. Skip this if you are up-to-date. (Don't you love how I think everybody wants to know this? I don't really. I just don't want people to worry when there is no reason.)

Friends and Family,

After getting a few questions recently about how I am really doing, I started thinking about it. Some of you may only know that I was diagnosed with breast cancer in November and if you don’t read my blog or follow me on Facebook where I tell all, you might not have enough detail to know how much to worry.

It took me a while to get to being fine, I’ll admit. Breast cancer is a huge range of kinds and severity. When I first started reading about it, I was scared to death. Once I quit reading stuff on the internet and started listening to my medical team, things got better.

I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma in the early part of November after a mammogram, an ultrasound, and an ultrasound guided biopsy and surgery the following week. The main tumor was quite small (1.5cm) but there was cancer in 4 lymph nodes so it was categorized as Stage II. The surgeon removed the lump in a lumpectomy and the lymph nodes in a dissection. I was in the hospital only overnight and went home with an Ace bandage and a drainage tube.

The cancer is called invasive because it was in the lymph nodes, not because there is evidence of it anywhere else. The treatments are precautionary…just in case some of those cancer cells got a chance to stray off and set up outposts in other places. By my blood work and my lack of symptoms, they don’t believe that is true.

My oncologist says if you have to get something, breast cancer is not a bad thing. One in eight women will get it by age 65 (and it’s a very popular disease…the pink ribbon campaign) so there is a ton of data and they know how to treat it.  My prognosis is very positive.

I have had three treatments of Adriamycin and Cytoxan. They give me so many drugs for nausea that I have never experienced any of it. The treatments make me sleepy for a few days and tired most days, but otherwise I have not been able to report any side effects. Last week, I started a twelve week cycle of Paclitaxel. I’ll go every Thursday for a 3-4 hour infusion of chemicals until April 18^th. I’ll have about two weeks off, and then will start daily radiation for 30 days. That’s a lot of precaution, I’d say! I am hoping to be done by July 4^th! Independence Day!

I have so much in my favor: my age (post-menopausal), my tumor size (1.5 cm), my tumor is hormone positive and HER2 negative which means it’s lazy as opposed to aggressive, my active lifestyle, my retirement (it would be very had to do this with small children and a FT job) and my general health.

I’m being treated at the Andreas Cancer Center in Mankato, a Mayo facility, so if my oncologist has a concern, he is on the phone to someone in Rochester in a flash. My surgeon was Tim Deaconson, the chief surgeon for this Mayo region and the guy who did my biopsy, Dr. Wolfe, is the head radiologist. I’m getting wonderful, first class care.

I’m part of a Phase 3 clinical trial which is too much to explain here but it’s a good thing. I have the very best care, the attention of a research nurse, and I’ll be followed for ten years.

If you decide you want to read my blog, November and December show the evolution of my mood. The news was stunning at first but gradually I accepted it and now I think of it as my hobby. Regis has been wonderful, supporting me, driving me to every appointment, waiting during my treatments, asking questions, and remembering all the things I forget. I might have a disease but I don’t think of myself as sick because I don’t feel sick.

The worst parts of it are these: being housebound to avoid germs because my immune system is suppressed, being tired, and all of the appointments. But like I said, I am thinking of this as my hobby so I find things to enjoy about all of it. My oncologist is a very funny guy who tells great stories about growing up in Nebraska, my research nurse likes knit so we share patterns, there is a little café on the corner where we stop and have eggs or cheeseburgers. Life is good.

I love the cards and calls and packages. I appreciate your support and concern. If there are other things you are concerned about or want to know….please ask. I don’t mind at all talking about it. And women…don’t skip those mammograms!

Teresa 

whoop ass and running on ice

I walked downtown yesterday morning for the fresh air and exercise. Mostly I walked in the street because the sidewalks are treacherous. I walked like a penguin and watched every footfall. I was careful. Everyone says to be careful but that doesn't have much to do with it. One second you're vertical and the next second, you're horizontal. Not like you say to yourself, "Hell. I'm going to take a chance and shuffle fast!"

Behind Ace Hardware I met my Waterloo. One second I was up, vertical and chugging along just fine and the next second, I was down horizontal. Nothing broken but I have a bruise on my hip. When I told the story at the coffee shop, they thought I should have a ride home but I declined and I made it safely back to my abode.

I stopped at the Pulse to see Rachel, at Culligan to see Kris and Gus, ran into Anders RM on the street and heard about his new adventure, went to Sew Boutique to see Kay who made me two lovely port pillows. I went to My Father's Daughter to buy a hat for a new friend at the exercise class. I stopped at Contents and did a little shopping for things to send my mom and then to the PO to mail a book. I had a busy morning, you can see. It was busy, and so nice, I would consider it my daily can of whoop ass!

Here's what my afternoon will consist of...a chemical shit storm of force field proportion. I have no idea what a force field is but this is how I envision it. The cancer cells are in the middle and the Paclitaxel hits them like a million laser guns.

I've decided that the duration of my chemotherapy and radiation is so far into the future that it's going to be my hobby for now. Rather than just gritting my teeth and gutting it out, I am going to find something to enjoy about it so I look forward to it. I think I wrote about this before. I did look forward to the Lorna Doones until Regis read the ingredients and found that they use palm oil and hydrogenated oil. Both are very bad. Shit.

Maybe I'll make a few snow angels around the cancer center today. If I drop into the snow a team of people will probably come running with a gurney and an AED. Hahahaha! Funny to think about that. I wonder if they would charge me for a false alarm.

Remember today, as you make your list of things to do, that pleasure is a thing that also needs accomplishing.

supreme slothfulness

I haven't done much today. We laid in bed a long time watching the snow and drinking coffee. When I finally got up, I did my household tasks (you know...garbage, recycling, dishes) and then I went back to bed to read. When I got up from that siesta, I went outside to shovel the walk while Regis used the snow blower on the driveway. It didn't take long so I made three snow angels and took pictures of them. It was so warm that I laid in the snow for a while and watched the clouds roll by. The sun felt good on my face and I realized how much I enjoy doing nothing. I sat on the steps for a while until Regis finished, then went back in to read. I've done some knitting, read some more, posted a couple things on the social media, and brought in the mail which was a waste of time. Tomorrow, I am planning to walk downtown to do a few things.

I made it sound like the joy of doing nothing was some kind of revelation. It wasn't. I have always had the nature that appreciates non-productivity. Given the choice of accomplishing a lot or nothing, I will almost always choose nothing. There are cultures where this is thought of a gift. Too bad I don't happen to live in one of them.

I hope I used the right tense of lay. I get confused about that but I do not mean we were laying eggs in bed or that I was laying eggs in the snow. I figure most of you are quite literate and will figure it out. I don't feel like looking it up right now as I'm busy.

Regis and I went to a new restaurant yesterday with bonfire in the title. The food was not good. We had a pizza that was so heavily spiced it was almost inedible. The steak bites were tough and the wine was very costly. We won't be cruising back there any time soon. They had us packed in like sardines, too. I could have reached over and grabbed something off the next table but their food didn't look good enough to risk it.

We didn't even go exercise today. We called in with the general malaise. Everybody gets a day like this once in a while and this happened to be ours. We'll do better tomorrow.

my metabolism slows to a crawl

I'm a turtle. I should dig my way under the snow and dirt to hibernate the rest of the winter and only come out when the warm sun shines. Seriously, It's about what I am doing...without the digging.

I spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in the house except for a brief outing to the winery and one to buy a few groceries. The more troublesome part of this being housebound is that I didn't mind it. I took naps, I read books, I watched movies, I talked to friends and family on the phone. What if I actually had to round up some ambition and do something?

Regis went to the first half of a super bowl party but I stayed home since there were germs abounding. I ate part of a little frozen pizza (I get a craving for frozen pizza once a decade or so...) and watched Inspector Lewis on television.

Regis and I are going to exercise this morning even though he has the general malaise from low hemoglobin and I have the metabolism of a turtle. He's calling one of his ologists today to make sure he's doing the right thing as general malaise is no fun.

I asked my oncologist last week how they know these chemicals are working. At first he said because of thousands and thousands of patients who have been treated with them and the research they have done on all of those patients. But then I wanted to know how they know it works for me? Will their be repeated scans, I asked? Pet scans? Bone scans? MRI?

Judy said no scans unless there are symptoms. They watch my blood work and my symptoms closely for signs. That's a little creepy. Like watching for news of recurring cancer in tea leaves. I'd rather not wait until I have symptoms to treat the cancer, thank you very much. I would like them to scout the outposts and deter their encampments. Ah, life in my world.

At first, I thought about my cancer battle like this. Cancer a huge scaly dragon. Me tiny, mostly unarmed.

Now I like to think about it more like this. Multiple good guys in the cancer light saber army and much more modern weaponry than a sword and shield. I have to remember when I go to see my oncologist that there are a lot of good guys behind the curtain...oncologists, specialists, researchers, teachers. They've got me covered.

Today will be a good day. We're meeting friends, Jim and Kay, at a new restaurant in Mankato, Axel's Barbecue, for dinner. I've already scoped out the online menu and decided what I want. It's an early Valentine dinner since none of like to fight crowds on holidays like that. Sneak in early, get good service, no crowds, good food. Perfect.

happy groundhog day

This is a holiday whose meaning escapes me. I think the story goes that if Phil sees his shadow, we'll have six more weeks of winter which they always make sound like a bad thing. Here, if winter ended mid-March, we'd all be picnicking in the park on St. Patrick's Day and that ain't bloody likely. Some years they have to cancel the parade due to snow storms.

The stuff they call news now is amazing. The other day while exercising, I watched the Today Show which I remember as having some real interviews and real news. Four people sat on a low wall and yucked about this and that as they watched a clip of the president and the secretary of state. The conversation was about their body language and if it indicated she would be on the presidential ticket in 2016. That's some heavy duty news.

And that football player with the made-up girlfriend. You can't walk by a tv without seeing a story about that. It's all very weird.

As expected, I slept the day away yesterday. I did get up and go to Walgreens with Regis and Gus, then out for a bite of lunch. Another nap ensued in the afternoon. I got up in time to order a pizza for Tiffany and Elliot. I meant to make a home-cooked meal but did not have the gumption.

My brother and his family are providing the daily can of whoop ass today. They're meeting up in Mankato and joining us for lunch at the winery. Four cheese pizza, nice glass of wine, fireplace, good company. That's all good for the soul. That's the kind of stuff they should put on the news.

theme from Rocky: can you hear it?

                                  

I knew I would feel better today and I do. Regis and I are both very pragmatic when it comes to shit that comes down the pike. You either do it or you don't but you don't do it and complain about it for six months.

So, the weekly taxol and daily radiation just become my hobby for a while. I find things to enjoy about going there so I look forward to it, I get dressed up and put on make-up and a fancy hat...and I just do it. Once in a while I need a can of whoop ass, but not often.

I'm planning to have a beautiful garden this year. I should be able to start working in the dirt about the time the radiation starts so I'll go to radiation, then I'll work in the garden.

I'm anxious to start riding my bike again. I think I'll have Regis put the rack on the back of the car so I can explore some more distant bike paths. Exercise in the fresh air and sunshine is always better for my mental health.

My friends and family have been wonderful for sending emails and cards with good wishes, light, and love. Friends bring pots of soup and send flowers and books. They offer to drive me to appointments. They come for coffee on Saturday morning and we watch birds and eat cookies. I hear from people I'd lost contact with for a while. Sometimes we say I love you at the end of the conversation.

I've met so many new people who now feel like friends: Brianna who always bring our coffee at Guenther's, Kerry who takes care of me at the cancer center, Judy the research nurse who brings me knitting patterns, my oncologist who tells us stories of growing up on the Nebraska plains, Susan in exercise class who had cancer and is now exercising to ward off depression, Arlene who is 92 and learned how to drive a team of horses when she was young.

Many people say they are praying for me every day. That's a powerful thing, no matter what. Mom's church, Arlene's church, Mary, Susan, Joanne and Elizabeth's church.

Emily's mom made me an afghan. It's a giant, bed-sized afghan in many wild colors, like a warm rainbow.

Mom sends me little packages of candles, antiseptic hand wipes, angels, and kitchen towels.

Life is good.

sigh. again.

I went to my chemo appointment today. The doctor checked my lymph nodes, my throat, my ankles, my rash (or lack of a rash), asked a lot of questions and we commenced with Paclitaxel.

I did not have the rare but not unexpected side effect of trouble breathing and red face. I told Regis to be on alert for the ruddy complexion and I would be alert for the breathing problems. Kerry told me what they would do and she did not seem alarmed at all that this could, although probably would not, occur.

I'm not sure how I would have been alert enough to notice labored breathing since they had given me 50mg of bendryl and told me it "might make me drowsy". Might make me drowsy is a great euphemism for kick your ass into the middle of next week. I felt like I had a bottle of wine without the fun...my speech was slow, my thinking was slow, and I listed to the left when I went to the bathroom. I completely missed my pod partner leaving.

After I realized I had made it through the taxol without the dreaded side effects I felt strong enough to ask about the future. I have taken all of this cancer business one step at a time. Asking questions about the last phase of treatment was something I couldn't wrap my brain cells around before today. With one phase, the A&C, done, I felt ready.

I knew there was radiation but in my mind, I was thinking 3-4 treatments, one a week. Some easy schedule like that, but who knows where I got that notion. I ask. Oh, no. Judy says more like 30. One every day for 30 days. WTF. WTF!

I won't finish the taxol until April 18th if I don't miss a week because of my white count. I'll get two weeks off, then start the radiation which begins with simulation. Simulation of radiation is where they tattoo your skin so they know where to aim the deadly ray gun so as not to irradiate your healthy parts along with your sick parts.

Thirty days of that, not taking into account some days off to rest because of skin burns (What???) That means I'll finish up, if I'm lucky, about June 14th. Again, I say...wait, wait...what the fuck?

You can see there were a lot of profane words, exclamations, and rhetorical questions going through my mind. Good thing most of them did not come out my mouth.

I came home and took a nap. I'll wallow in my misery tonight, then I will pick myself up off the floor and go on tomorrow. It could always be worse, as my Norwegian relatives say. It could always be worse. This much I know is true.

no snow days for chemo

I'm sitting in my cozy living room drinking coffee when I hear that schools in St. Peter are starting two hours late and Mankato schools are closed due to the way below zero wind chills. I remember the days when a late start or a close gave me a little tingle of excitement. One downside to retirement: I still have to go out on days like this. There are no snow days for chemo.

Yesterday, Mary Smith from Mary's Flowers delivered a little pot of daffodils because I knew the answer to her Facebook quiz: William Wordsworth. It's always fun to see Mary almost any day. She is a ray of sunshine herself and sometimes delivers flowers with a song. She told me she includes me in her prayers every night which is a nice thing.

In the interest of full disclosure I am posting the picture Mary took. I'm dressed in my exercise clothes, my hat is cocked, and you can see my messy kitchen. Oh, hell. There are worse things, right?

I will say that is my Valentine's Day tree and not my Christmas tree. Although, I'm not saying I might not be lazy enough to leave my Christmas tree up until February. The tree will get one more costume change for St. Patrick's Day before it goes away for the summer.

I have to plan my attired carefully today. I have to wear something warm enough that I don't freeze to death on my way to the car, something I can exercise gently in, and something that will give the nurses access to my port. That's a lot of criteria and I haven't even considered foot wear yet. I need a fashion spreadsheet.

My relatives are gathering in a small town in North Dakota today to say goodbye to my brother, Steve. The windchill will be 40 degrees below zero there. I worry about them driving in this bitter cold. It will be a long day for them and I'll be thinking about them all.

Off to my first Paclitaxel treatment. The link is interesting if you want to know more about it. It's a taxane and was originally made from the yew tree. Now it's produced synthetically. It stops cancer my preventing cells from dividing.

Stay warm, my friends!

anxiety dreams

Regis and I both woke up at 3 am. He checked the status of the Winterfest Medallion (found) and I tried to read. I went back to sleep at 4 am and had the fitful and dream-filled sleep. It was awful. I woke agitated, sweaty, and with a headache. I'm not sure it was worth it.

I have read about twenty mystery novels in the last month. At this point, Inspector Lewis, Jim Chee, and Cork O'Connor are all mixed up in my head. Are the Ojibwe and the kachinas looking for a murderer in London and drinking Scotch in the evenings while they make their plans? It's painful. And I watch Doc Martin at night, so add Marty and Joan to this cocktail and you have the stuff of crazy dreams.

After two days above freezing, our sidewalks are a mess. It didn't get warm enough to actually rid us of any snow and ice, it just melted and formed a thick, impenetrable coat of frozen muck on all horizontal surfaces. No wonder people get depressed. A few years ago, I sold our ice chipper at a garage sale. Don't ask me why. Clearly, a mistake.

I threw four old photo albums in the trash the other day. They were from my college and early teaching days. I ransacked them for a few pictures to keep, then put them in a plastic garbage bag in the dumpster. Regis came back into the house with them the other day after taking the garbage down, intent on looking through them. For evidence of my exciting youth, no doubt. I told him those albums had one week to live and if he hadn't looked at them by next Monday, they were going back in the trash. No reprieve this time.

It's below zero this morning, at least I think it is. I've grown weary of checking the weather. Who cares when its the end of January. It's the dog days of winter. The doldrums. Spring seems like a long way off, nearly impossible to survive this gray winter until then. I can hear the chimes in the front yard which means the wind is rearing its ugly head. Lovely. I have lost my sense of humor about this winter. Hell is not hot, it's subzero.

We are going off to exercise this morning. Tomorrow, I start my twelve-week round of Paclitaxel, which may account for the anxiety dreams. I am looking forward to the Lorna Doones, however.

On the mornings when school is late or cancelled, I still get an automated call. I admit to a tiny bit of pleasure, as if I were still a teacher and got to enjoy another hour at home, but a phone call at 5:30 am is not really a pleasant thing. I told my friend, Joanne, if she could track down the keeper of the list and get me off of it, I would be forever grateful.

It's like stuff on your medical record. Every time I go in, they look at a list and ask me if I have a hiatel hernia. Every time, I tell them no, that I have never heard that diagnosis from any medical professional. They say they will take it off but the next time, there it is again. The ghost hiatel hernia.

Gus is curled up on the couch. If I hadn't spent so much time in bed yesterday, I would take his lead and crawl back in myself. It's a comfortable place to spend a gray winter day. It's probably not mentally healthy to do that very often, imagining what Doc Martin would say. I'll try to stay vertical today, promise.

cheeseburger therapy

When I went to exercise class yesterday, I told the physiologist that I was going to be a good test of his mood elevating properties of exercise theory. I told him that my mood, given the gray weather of late, was about a 3 on the mood scale with 1 being crappy and 10 being giddy.

By the end of the hour, I was about a 7. Not giddy but not ready to hitchhike to a southern climate either.

I have been craving cheeseburgers. Every day I wake up and start scheming about how I can achieve a cheeseburger that day. After exercise class, we stopped at Guenther's and I had my cheeseburger fix. They make a great one...hand made patty, nice toasted bun, ketchup, mustard, pickles. A simple pleasure.

Here's a view from the last booth, of which there are only three. You don't want to go here when it's the peak busy time, like at noon. We go around 10:30 so you can still have breakfast but you can get lunch if you'd rather and you don't have to fight anybody for a booth.

poem

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between “green thread”
and “broccoli” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight.”

Resting on the page, the word
is as beautiful, it touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent you from some place distant
as this morning — to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing,

that also needs accomplishing.
~ from “The Word,” by Tony Hoagland

I was looking at my blog posts from last year and found this poem. I thought it was time to resurrect it. I love reading old blog posts. Usually, I don't remember them (there are almost 2,000) and it seems like somebody else wrote it. Sometimes I laugh out loud. That's pretty good if you can crack yourself up with a goofy post you wrote years ago.

A little sunlight would be nice. It's after 7 and it still looks like Siberia out there. I'm surprised there aren't more crimes of passion in the winter. But once I have written that, I decide it makes sense. Who could work up enough passion to commit a crime when it's gray all day and dark all night? I have enough trouble working up the energy to do the dishes.

Regis just asked if I am in the winter doldrums. Yes, I would say. I'm going to haul out all the doldrum cures today: yoga, scented candles, music, exercise. Reading and writing are good but if I sit in my chair and stare out on the bleak landscape, it makes me want to go back to bed.

Regis is taking Gus out. I told him when he comes back I want to talk about February and things to look forward to. He is a minute-to-minute guy but he tolerates my love of planning. A guy has to do something to combat the winter blues.

sometimes the apples don't fall too far from the family tree

Bruce sent this picture of his grand-daughter, Darby, dressed up for her birthday party. She would be my grand-niece but that sounds like a blue-haired old lady thing so I don't like to use that phrase. This is a girl after my own heart. She put together quite a look here. Then I started thinking...

Here I am dressed to go to the St. Patrick's Day parade. I wore this to a party with Regis when he worked at a costume company and I wore it to school a couple times (with a longer skirt and no wine) and passed out gold-wrapped chocolates from a black cauldron.

I celebrated one of my recent birthdays with my mom. She has a long history of dressing up on Halloween. One year she put on a gorilla mask before getting into bed to scare my dad. He didn't even blink.

Ella loves costumery. She's in her glory if we dig out long dresses, sparkly jewelry, scarves, and hats. She has a good eye for the outrageous and I appreciate that. You can see her dramatic pose.

I think we're due for a costume afternoon, Ella. Too bad we can't all get together for a party!

I am feeling the effects of being cooped upest, partly because yesterday was not a day to venture out. It started with rain, then ice, then snow, then back to rain. The sidewalks were treacherous. Even with my YakTrax, it was rough going.

My rash is gone. It started disappearing on Friday and by Saturday, no signs of it. Probably better that my last treatment was cancelled, though...I might have been an itching mess by today. I'm taking this as a positive sign for going ahead with the taxol on Thursday. My doc says most people tolerate taxol better than A&C. I seem to be an outlier, numerically distant from the rest of the data...less than 2% suffer with a rash. Just my luck.

Many of my thoughts today are cranky, or at least gloomy. Best to not impart them on others.

My can of whoop ass for the day is the beautiful women in my life who wear striped tights and hats and crazy glasses. Here's to you all!

snow angels galore

Dakota sends her Auntie Teresa a snow angel!

Here is the evidence. Every kid should know how to make snow angels!

Brooklyn send her Auntie Teresa a snow angel!

Rachel sends her Auntie Teresa a snow angel!

Thanks, lovely young ladies, for all the snow angels. I love them. I'm afraid I might have been sent one here or there that I misplaced. Instagram or text message are the hardest for me. I see it and then forget to do anything about it.

This morning when Regis came to the Pulse, I told him I had done 15 minutes on the wind mill. I meant tread mill. My brain, my brain. Sometimes the chemo makes it chug to a halt.

It's been one of those days when you want to go back to bed and pull the covers over your head until the sun comes out and it warms up. We've had rain, freezing rain, snow and lots of gray skies. Ugh.

I think I have cabin fever. I should suppress it for today because it will be a busy week.

two-bit rash and what I do with all my free time

After writing that optimistic post about feeling safe at chemotherapy, I had a bit of a disappointment on Thursday.

I've had this rash. It started out on my shoulders about a week after my last treatment. It didn't itch...just looked weird. The next day, I had blotches over my thighs and arms. I stopped in the clinic when I went to exercise and the doc and the research nurse both looked at it. The doc didn't think it was related to the chemo but said to keep an eye on it.

So, of course, on Thursday when I go in for my last of four A&C treatments, they want to see the rash which is no better and in fact, slightly worse. Still doesn't itch but looks bad.

The doctor is concerned that it is related to the chemo. He leaves the room to make a call to a man in Rochester who is a double-ologist in breast cancer research. They confer over the kind of cancer I have, the number of lymph nodes involved, the chemo I have had so far and what I have coming in the future...and they decide I shouldn't have the last treatment.

With allergic reactions, they can get progressively worse, triggering things like your throat swelling shut. (Bad thing.)The double-ologist feels that I have enough of a chemical shit storm going on that the last treatment is not that important. There is another arm of the study, what is also considered a standard of care, that doesn't even give the Adriomyacin at all.

But I have a mini-panic attack on the way home. Isn't more medicine better? Have I been cheated, by a two-bit rash, out of medicine that could help me? Really, I can deal with the rash.

Regis helps me slow down and remember that one thing I trust most about my medical team is that they never operate alone. They are always talking and collaborating so I need to trust this decision.

Judy, the research nurse, called yesterday and we talked through my concerns. She said it's common to feel anxiety when what you think is the course of treatment changes. She said what I already know...team work and research. Decisions are not made without careful thought about risk and benefit. Deep breath. It will be fine.

This changes the timing, too. Because I had my last A&C two weeks ago and now we want to start the taxol, it has to be more than two weeks but less than three weeks. Not much flexibility. I'll start the taxol treatments on Thursday, the 31st. Twelve of them, one a week.

The good news is that, except for the rash, I tolerated the A&C much better than most people so we are optimistic that the taxol will go as well.

With all of this chemo stuff, compromised immune system, and threat of flu in its various forms, I have been spending a lot of time at home. We go out on occasion but usually at times when there are not crowds of people. Here's what I do with my time:

• We've been watching the British comedy series, Doc Martin. It's full of wacky characters so I love it.
• I've burned through a lot of William Kent Kruger's books...about two a week. 
• Last night I started one of Tony Hillerman's books. He writes mysteries involving the Zuni and Navajo people in the same way WKK does the Ojibwe. I like his writing a lot.
• I'm knitting my sixth scarf. I have one for Mom ready to go in the mail and I'm working on one for Jill. Thank God it's been a cold winter. I tried to talk my cousin into a scarf but she said in Arizona, there isn't much need.
• I have been making cards. The problem with this hobby is that it's messy and I don't have a lot of room. I organized things (I know...what the hell.) into plastic boxes but when I want to work on something, I have to drag all the boxes out. It's daunting.
• I tried some games to stimulate my brain activity but my brain was resistant.

So, there you go. It's Saturday which doesn't really matter to me but I like to recognize it just the same. We have a quiet day planned and it might even involve a nap. Happy weekend!

Steve

My baby brother, Steve, on the left in the photo of my four brothers, died last night at 51. The past few years have been full of turmoil for him but he was at peace when he passed. It's a tragedy for him to die so young...for my mother, for his siblings, for his children, and for him. His daughter, Nicole, said he was a man with many talents and a big heart and he was all of that. He donated his body to the medical school at UND, a selfless act at the end of his life.

having cancer...feeling safe

I told Joanne in an email today that I enjoy going to my chemotherapy appointments. I had to think about why that is.

All of the professionals I see are concerned for my welfare: the research nurse, the social worker, the oncologist, the radiologist, the nurses. Everyone wants to know how I'm doing and what they can do to help me. It's comforting.

In the same way, I like the exercise class. They take my blood pressure, my pulse, my weight. They want to know if I have any pain, they ask if I have any pain, or if my medication has changed. A nurse comes around as I exercise to take my pulse again and to ask how hard I'm working.

Normally, this would be irritating. It would feel intrusive to have someone all up in my business every minute but in the scary world of cancer, all of this makes me feel safe.

I've been obsessed the past few days with the word remission. I want to know if, at the end of my treatments, I will be in remission or if I will be cured. I know it probably doesn't really matter but yesterday...and today, it matters to me.

I've read that doctors rarely talk about cures with cancer. As long as there is a remote possibility of the cancer coming back, even many years in the future, they consider your cancer to be in remission...not cured. Too bad. I like the sound of cured better than remission.

My oncologist told me that my tumor is the lazy kind. I can't remember what it was that indicated laziness as opposed to aggressive, but he seemed to think it was good news. It might come back, but it might take fifteen years.

Now that I've swept that worry from the dusty shelves of my cluttered mind, I can move on to other things.

I also look forward to treatment days because they have little packages of Lorna Doone shortbread cookies in the treat basket. Life's small pleasures.

finding things and taking naps

About a month ago, I lost two things: syringes for my Vitamin B and my checkbook. Since it was right before Christmas, I assumed they had both ended up in the same sweep and would be discovered together but I found my checkbook in my gym bag and the syringes in the glove box of the car. I had vague memories of putting them there...like a little thread of memory that I couldn't quite grasp until now.

I have been sleeping so much better knock on wood. Yesterday I went into the bedroom and turned on the heated mattress pad and the humidifier, rubbed my nose with Vicks, and took a nap at 8 am. I hadn't even been awake that long. Maybe that qualifies as going back to bed rather than a nap. I took another nap mid-afternoon. Both were blissful. I've been sleeping well at night, too, waking for a short period but going quickly back to sleep.

Regis and I got up early today to buy groceries. We dropped Gus at the Paw to get some exercise while we did errands and went to geriatric exercise class. The grocery store was quiet and we got done in record time.  We had a few extra minutes to get coffee at Smiley's.

We had about an inch of snow today. Huge flakes that look like the snow you would find in department store display windows. Beautiful but not enough of it to make snow angels.

Tomorrow is my last A&C treatment. I have some questions to ask the doctor. How do we know this is working? When I'm done, do we call it remission or do we call it cured or do we not call it anything? (I have looked this up on google and just want to make sure his answer matches about.com) What's the next step in terms of radiation details? I think this is the first time I've had questions. It's pretty much been a blur up until now.

I forgot to post this photo because it was late appearing on the Shufflefunction blog. In September, we were radio programmers for the day, controlling the musical destiny of southern Minnesota and northern Iowa. We're working on another gig now. Regis is so much better at the radio patter than I am. I need to have things written down, word for word, which doesn't work so well in a spontaneous radio atmosphere.

Well, that's it for today. In all ways, it was a good day.

when there's nothin' going on and life is still good

Yesterday, it didn't get above zero in Minnesota. The high, the low, and the current were negative numbers all day. This morning, when I put my zip code into the weather channel search bar, it keeps giving me this: Hmmm, the page you are looking for can't be found. There's a message for you.

Regis goes out in this frigid weather without a hat on, in tennis shoes. It makes me crazy. He's been in Minnesota long enough to know the drill. Even my oncologist wears a hat in the winter. I know this because his hair is always sticking straight up when I see him. Nothing like hat hair in the winter. One advantage to being bald...no worries about hat hair.

Yesterday when I saw the doctor, it took me ten minutes to get the many layers of clothes off so I could get into the blue gown. The rash, if you are interested, goes undiagnosed. It has spread to my arms and legs but it doesn't itch and it hasn't blistered. The doctor told the nurse to document it thoroughly in my chart. Like Sherlock Holmes and Watson. Did anybody check out google images for rash? Aren't you sorry if you did? That shit will give you nightmares.

I am so grateful that my sleeping seems better. I take a short nap in the afternoon and I sleep all night, maybe waking once briefly but going right back to sleep. It's bliss.

We're meeting Peter and April at the Taj Mahal, a new Indian restaurant in Mankato on Friday. I have never eaten Indian food so I'm studying the menu. If you have a recommendation for me after looking at the menu, feel free to leave a comment. I'm Norwegian so I tend to like white food...potatoes, lefse, bread, fish. I have branched out and like a lot of hot peppers now but I have little experience with curry and such.

I see there is no parade scheduled for the Winterfest celebration. Harrumph. Marie, I think we should plan a parade, spread the word, make it performance art. What do you think? I love a Winterfest Parade!

Richie, thanks for the soup. It was wonderful to enjoy my glass of wine in front of the fireplace and have a bowl of chicken soup with no work! Bless your heart.

Anita, a special ed teacher friend of mine, stopped by for a visit yesterday. She talked about school for a while using terms like IEP, present levels of performance, and self-monitoring. Wait, wait...what? I stared into space. It's like that was in another lifetime and I have completely wiped clean the slate.

It's eight o'clock and school is starting somewhere, everywhere. I am sitting in my flannel nightgown and slippers, sipping coffee and eating an English muffin with butter and honey. I can go back to my warm bed and read for a while. I can spend the afternoon making Scotch broth from Meat Mike's soup bones. I don't have to leave the house or I can go to Pinot and Pizza at Chankaska Creek in the middle of the afternoon. Life could not be better today.

fight like a girl

Ella came over yesterday afternoon and we had a fine time. We put on our "fight like a girl" aprons, thanks to Katy in Georgia) and posed for some photos before playing a blistering round of tic-tac-to, doing some arts and crafts, and knitting. Gus likes to be in the pictures, too. He thinks when the camera comes out, it must be for him.

This one is for Gonzo. It says: A girl's BFF, whatever that means. Haha! It looks like Gonzo on her shirt. I loved the picture of Gonzo perching on the guy's foot, Tom. Of course, he wouldn't put his delicate hinder on the sand.

Regis and I are going to exercise today. I'm going to stop and see my nurse about the mystery rash and mild sore throat. I should finish the A&C this week and start the taxol next week. I figure the sooner I get on with it, the sooner I'm done.

It's really too cold to go anywhere today. The temp is 9 below zero and the windchill is 32 below. This is not weather for fashion. Garrison Keillor says we go back to basics in weather like this. Nobody worries about their hair or how goofy their hat looks. You just want to live to get to the next place with heat. You wear fifty pounds of clothes and everybody trudges. Uff da.

Stay warm. I'll be back.

my daily can of whoop ass

I have some new hobbies. I find I have a lot of time to sit around lately so I needed something to do. I still read a lot but I looked for something else. I may have written about my trip through Hobby Lobby looking at  drawing kits and paint by number kits.

Card making is big sport now in the hobby shops. Aisles and aisles of specialty paper, fancy scissors, stamps, stickers, and all manner of thing. I randomly bought some blank cards and some stickers. Oh, and a package of crocheted stuff. I'm not Martha Stewart and nobody would ever mistake my cards for something made by a professional but they're fun. I'm currently working on some Valentines.

My other new hobby is knitting. Mom taught me to knit when I was very young...maybe 7 or 8. At one time in my life I knew how to make mittens and made them by the sackful for little kids in Minneapolis who didn't have mittens. I'm not sure I could handle that many needles anymore but I like making scarves.

I made one for Tiffany before Christmas. It was made from red chunky yarn and I made it into a cowl which is my favorite pattern because there is no pattern. The one on the left below is shades of purple and I made it for Latisha. The one on the right is teal and I made it for Kathy.

Here's one I'm starting for mom. If I really go to town, I can finish one in three days. If you need a scarf, let me know. Marilyn? Nancy? Betty? Jill? Richie? I know big wooly cowls don't sound good to my warm climate friends but when the wind chill is 16 below like it is here, you die if you fall down on your way out with the trash so you've got to dress warm. This place ain't for sissies.

I asked my friends on Facebook to come over and smack me in the head if I ever start talking about making refrigerator magnets with googly eyes.

I hate it when I write two letters down, get distracted, then come back and can't remember what I was going to write. I need sticky notes for my brain.

Speaking of brain. I read on some website that playing games helps your brain. Does this mean any kind of game? Yahtzee? I tried one where you find the thing that's different between two pictures. Boy, did I suck at that. It figures your IQ as you go and I was in the negative numbers when I quit. I'll find something else.

I'm making cinnamon rolls this morning. I should have summoned the gumption to make the dough last night, but alas, I was wallowing in my slothful ways. Nobody said you have to eat a cinnamon roll at the crack of dawn anyway so what the hell.

I'm adding tea to the list of things I want to learn. I bought this tea pot online this morning and a sampling of flowering teas. I've always liked the idea of tea but I have trouble finding one for which I like the taste. Coffee just isn't doing it for me right now.

Busy week. Last round of A&C then onto a new chemical cocktail. I've been so lucky to have so few side effects, or maybe I should say I'm grateful for the knowledge of my doctors that they can put me through this with so few side effects. Although...

I think the chemo maybe affecting my brain. Yesterday, I looked at Mapquest to plan a 1500 mile road trip. Regis just rolled his eyes. If you know me, I don't drive to Minneapolis without a map and a suitcase. I have been known to weep after three hours in the car. We'll have to wait and see what transpires. I didn't realize that the trip meant driving through mountains and that is a bit of a deterrent as I don't like heights.

Better get my sorry butt into the kitchen and start rattling some pots and pans.

hyper-vigilant about stupid health stuff: hypochondria alert

Yesterday when I got out of the shower I noticed I had a rash across the top of my shoulders. Bright red spots...not raised or blistered. Do not ever...ever...put rash in google and click images. Oh, my God. Disgusting. Anyway, I called the oncology nurse who said I didn't need to be concerned unless I develop a fever but should watch it. It doesn't itch but I keep touching it to see if it's still there. Today I am trying to decide if my throat is sore. I know if I call and tell the on-call oncologist that I have a rash and a sore throat, I will be headed to the ER. I use Regis as my "is this insane?" monitor. I describe my symptoms and he tells me if it's something to worry about or not. So far, he says not. I took two benadryl and I'm going to take a nap. Naps, and Vicks, are the cure-alls. Mom, I always throw my jar of Vicks into my bag when I go to chemo. It's my can of whoop ass on those days.

my ode to regis

My husband is my Rock of Gibralter. My Pillar of Hercules.
He does the dishes without complaint.
He takes the dog to the dog park and keeps track of his Heartguard and Frontline.
He keeps complicated records of our car maintenance. He knows when an oil change is due.
He can fix the toilet.
He restores my soul.
He lets me choose the movie even if its something he might hate.
He keeps me in book lists.
He remembers when I wear the first pair of earrings he ever sent me.
He brings me coffee in the morning and a glass of wine at night.
He does my laundry.
He shaves my head gently and cleans the small hairs that fall to the rug.
He worries about my symptoms and examines my stitches and my rash.
He holds my hand as we walk into the clinic.
He has a hearty laugh.
He makes up words to songs to make me laugh.
He has a jukebox in his head. He sings and sometimes the songs are stuck in my head for days.
He lifts me up when I am down.
He carries the heavy things and tells me not to clean up after the dog. He will do it.
He is my Mount Everest. Tall, tough, and beautiful.
He picks me up at the sidewalk when the driveway is icy.
He lets me pick the restaurant and only says he would like it to have popcorn. He doesn't complain if I don't eat all my food.
He keeps me in batteries of every size and kind.
He fixes stuff. He knows about electrical things like outlets. He knows what to do when a car breaks down.
He cares about my welfare. He wants me to be happy.
He makes the best scrambled eggs.
He is my Lake Superior. Deep clear, and cool.
He will do anything so I get better. He takes me to appointments and wait for four hours while I have chemo. He goes down the hall to get me coffee and a scone.
He is my right hand. My best of everything. My only.
This is my ode to Regis.

i look good and feel better

I had a nice day yesterday. Regis and I went to the exercise class in the morning where we are progressing well. I can do squats with five pound weights! Chip says I should be back to my old habits with maybe even bigger weights in a month.

I went with Regis to one of the ologist appointments. The ologist looks more like a Viking warrior (tall and strapping with huge hands) than a doctor but he was very thorough. He explained a lot of the medical mysteries to us and wished us well. Back to that ologist in six months.

I stopped at the yarn shop and stocked up on yarn for my prodigious scarf making. Anybody who needs a scarf should let me know. I pretty much have one design...and a very easy pattern. I buy bulky yarn, cast an odd number of stitches onto big needles, and knit until I am almost out of yard. Sometimes I stitch the ends together so it makes a big cowl scarf.

The picture at the top is my haul from the American Cancer Society's Look Good Feel Better class last night. I wasn't sure how it would be but I enjoyed it a lot. There were ten women in all stages of cancer diagnosis and treatment. We each got a bag of very nice and expensive cosmetic products and the instructor showed us how to use each of them. She also gave times on skin care, nails, head coverings, etc. It was fun to see people transformed by make-up and laughter.

My newly revised mental health plan is as follows:

• Limit carbs (wine and lefse are permitted)
• Exercise daily
• Change the books I'm reading. Agatha Christie is ponderous. I read forty pages last night where they wrapped up every clue in the damn book. Gads. I suppose they had a lot of ponder before DNA and finger prints.
• Watch only funny movies or light romantic comedies. This is a problem. Regis and I most often watch movies together. 
• Here is what he likes:
• Science Fiction
• Action/adventure with bad guys
• Car chases
• Loud guns and bombs
• Intrigue
• Thought-provoking
• Plot
• Here is what I like (or don't) in a movie:
• Characters, the more eccentric the better
• A gentle plot that does not include violence or gratuitous sex
• No loud noises
• No scary stuff
• Resolution in the end
• No really bad people that could be real
• Movies we have both liked:
• Skyfall
• Fargo (The first James Bond movie I liked.)
• The Giant Mechanical Man
• Uncle Buck
• Argo
• The Dancing Outlaw
• Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus
• Death at a Funeral
• Movies one of us disliked intensely although I am more vocal than Regis:
• No Country for Old Men (me)
• Sherlock Holmes (me)
• Inception (me)
• Lord of the Rings (me)
• Priscilla Queen of the Desert (Regis)
• Tender Mercies (Regis)

You can see my list is longer than my husband's list. He says there are certain movies I think I won't like and I'm not open to watching them. He is right about that. One thing I liked about Netflix is that they made recommendations based on what you liked in the past.

Well, that was a pretty deep subject.

exaggeration for effect: it's a literary device

Apparently I alarmed some friends and family with my blog post earlier today. The one where I wrote about feeling quarantined and having the blues. Some people thought is was a cry for help. It wasn't. It was just a bitey and sarcastic piece of drivel, similar to what comes off my keyboard at least once a week.

I should issue a disclaimer with every post, that I do not always write strictly the facts. Sometimes, not often, I make stuff up. Sometimes, often, I exaggerate. Sometimes, most often, I embellish, especially if it will make a better story.

I like to use hyperbole for dramatic or comic effect. I never promised that this blog would contain only non-fiction. I implied creative non-fiction. More latitude. Less fact checking. More fun.

Do not ever use the information posted here for research purposes or to compose a report for your middle school history class. Do not ever list me as a source of information in a bibliography. I am what they call an unreliable source even though I am published on the internet.

So...regarding the blues and the quarantine: I am not poised to jump off the Minnesota River bridge down by Whiskey River so don't send the rescue boats. I'd be more apt, if I got that far, to wander into the bar and order a glass of wine and a cheeseburger.

I still have a fairly firm grip on reality even though some days reality sucks. Who wants to read a blog that only spouts that Pollyanna sunshine BS all the time? That ain't real life, sister. It ain't all silver saddles and Sunday parades, as Johnny Bush used to say.

Tomorrow will be better. Hell, today will probably be better.

the blue-tinged week slips by

I've struggled with the blues this week. I tried mightily on Tuesday with all the things they recommend (No guided imagery of which I am not a fan. Those things should have warning labels like this: Listening to this CD may cause your symptoms to worsen. Call your doctor if you get the urge to put a steak knife in your ear.) but all the others: tea, yoga, music, candles, friends, nap, book.  Yesterday was a bit better but at 4 o'clock when it was snowing and raining and icy and the worst kind of maudlin gray outside, I had had it.

I convinced Regis we should go to a local pizza parlor for dinner. It was early so no flu-ridden crowds, and the place is fairly new so there aren't layers of germs lingering on the tables. It lacks a bit in atmosphere...gym clothes hanging all over the walls in an attempt, I would guess, to attract the high school crowd. We'll skip that next time. I don't want to look at wrestling shorts while I eat.

I'm under quarantine. I have to avoid crowds and places where I could be exposed to germs. For the next six weeks? Time to increase the Zoloft.

It feels like we do things therapeutically but not for fun. We go to the geriatric exercise class and we go to appointments. The main topic of conversation at those places is called Name Your Symptoms. Tonight I'm going to a make-up class at the cancer center. I hope they will have some advice for head moisturizing. Suddenly, I have hit a stage of life for which I was not quite prepared. I hope it's temporary.

Yesterday, honest to God, we were excited because we found a good deal on toilet paper at Walgreen's and made a plan to go back today to get more. We have a coupon. It's pitiful.

I wandered around Hobby Lobby the other day, looking at paint by number and learn to draw kits. I resisted those because they looked hard (for ages 8+) but I did buy some yarn and some supplies to make cards.

Next summer, when this cancer shit is mostly over, I think I'll take belly dancing lessons.

Happy 35 years old young regis...from the old people

Thirty five years ago, the oldest off-spring in our blended family was born. I love this picture of baby and dad, who looks like a cross between Mr. Green Jeans and Jerry Garcia. Hey, it was the 70's. Regis also has that stunned look of a new parent...lack of sleep, crying, constant feedings. Ah, glad those years are past.

This is the kid a few years later and already making a fashion statement.

Today he is taller still but with less hair..but a good kid. Happy birthday, Regis! Good to have you just down the street from the old people!

unveiling the lefse angel

I told you angels walked among us. Yesterday, I received a gift from the lefse angel but didn't know the angel's identity. Regis called Norsland Lefse Company and found out her name. You can see she wears sunglasses and a seat belt. Glad the lefse angels stress safety. Thanks, Melanie!

Ned Butler also sent happy thoughts my way yesterday. I think Ned was keeping a close eye on Deb while she made orange shortbread cookies.

It's been a good day. We went to our geriatric exercise class this morning, stopped at Guenther's for an egg and toast, did some errands at Walgreen's, and came on home. We've had a snow/rain mix all day. Lots of slush. Lots of gray. Ugh. Good thing I feel better or I'd have to get in the round room.