Superficial? Me?

I once said something to my nephew that I regretted the moment it came out of my mouth. I said, "Why is everyone on all the cartoons ya'll watch so ugly?" I couldn't believe I could say something so plastic and superficial. I mean I hate all that 'stuff'. By 'stuff' I mean all that shishifoo, look at me I'm so beautiful-logo-blingbling crap society tells us we need to have and look a certain way otherwise we're just ugly and poor losers. Don't get me wrong I like nice things, I like pretty clothes, I wear makeup and want to look my best and appreciate beauty like everyone else. But I have always had a disdain for the looks/image/status-obsessed(don't even get me started on logo bags-I'll have to get into that another day). Despite my disdain did I buy into it too? I didn't think so until I caught myself questioning my nephew how he could possibly be interested in characters that weren't as cute as the cartoon characters I loved so much(Smurfs, Gem and the Holograms, even Tom and Jerry). You know what his response was? He said, "Well they're not good looking cuz' it makes it funnier. I don't think they're ugly though, it's like cute-ugly." Excuuuse me! I'm only human....and I don't/won't shrink from learning a lesson about being shallow from a 10 year old .

Creepy Carrot

This is stupid-I know that. But I wanted to share it with ya'll anyway. I made spaghetti sauce today. Yes, from scratch! (I'm not Martha but I do my best. ) I was just about to cut up this carrot but then decided not to because it looked too much like a finger, gross. OK there are a lot of things going on in the world more interesting to post about. So what...right now my post is about a damn carrot. It's a slow Monday. Anyway I'm still convalescing and all that. Today is the first day in a long damn time that I could truly say, "I feel alright today." Finally dammit-I'm ready to get back to real life and then post about more interesting things than f- wierd looking carrots. Anyone who wants my sauce recipe let me know, I got it from my mother-in-law.

By the way I KNOW the picture is bad quality. I am still in the stone age because I don't yet have a digital camera...I'm working on it, I'm working on it! Until then just be happy with my phone's cam.

Lazy ass

I'm slow and lazy as is everyone else this weekend. I am feeling better though. I did not shop-I will not shop-I have absolutely zero desire to go anywhere near a store until Feb.

All my creative energy is drained. That's all I have to say for right now.

YAY!!!!!!!!!!(*warning-elated swearing*)

I got the news today from my body scan results and it appears that this girl This 4'11" 105pound person you see here looking all pitiful in the hospital bed(a couple hours after a 7 hour surgery) just 2 and a half months ago has apparently just KICKED CANCER'S ASS!!!!!!! The words to describe how I feel right now do not even exist. I will not get all sappy and weepy right now but I will say that this feels like a real Thanksgiving for me for the first time. But I have to gloat for just a few seconds more......because I don't want anyone to mistake me for someone who was/is brave and stoic about the whole thing---oh I cried, I curled up in the fetal position-physically AND mentally mind you, I was scared, I freaked out, I had a full fledged psychotic episode, I bitched, I moaned, I was uncooperative at times, I doubted everything, I was knocked on my ass but guess what! I beat the shit out of CANCER. Fuck you CANCER!! HAHAHAHAHA

I haven't been able to post anything lately because I've been on pins and f-ing needles you guys! I'll say again that I know thyroid cancer is not the big scary monster like breast or lung cancer or heart disease but it was big a scary monster for me and MR.PEA-and Peanut too. Never in my life did I think anything like that would ever happen to me. But you what else? Because of all this, now I know who I am. And now I can add to that-I am someone who kicked cancer's ass!!!(With the help of my doctors of course-wink)


PS By the way my beaupere is home and feeling better too.

No news is good news???

Apparently it has to be for now. I went to my endocrinologist today to find out if any cancer cells were still hanging around but the results from my body scan I had on Monday were not in yet. I think I'll find out tomorow or Monday but at least I can get back on my thyroid replacement meds again because I was totally running out of batteries. I won't even go into how awful I've been feeling the past couple weeks. Plus if I need radioiodine again it wouldn't be until Feb so I'll have some time to recover from feeling like CRAP until then. Just hearing that has a healing effect! I do have a feeling that I would need another round but I'm ok with that if that's what I need to do. So it was sort of good news.

But....we got some sad news when we got home. My father-in-law, my beaupere, our Captain is in the hospital. He had chemotherapy for lung cancer this past spring and it seems he's having problems again. I know I already posted this picture before but this picture of him romancing his wife(singing french love songs dammit!) on their anniversary is one of my favorites. So I'm sending out all the hope I have in my heart that he gets well soon....

We love you Captain! Man of steel! Get the f- out of the f- hospital and get yourself at home with your family who loves you where you belong!

Recent conversation between Neenee and I

(Neenee is one of my older sisters-she lives like a gazillion miles away-needless to say we talk on the phone at least once everyday, sometimes twice)


Me: You know what I can't stand? When the phone rings and the caller ID says Blocked call or Private.

Neenee: I know right?!

Me: Like you're the f-ing president or something- you need to BLOCK YOUR NUMBER! Ooh your name and number has to be top secret!

Neenee: Omigosh I know-so dumb!

Me: You know what? I don't even answer, I feel like, if you're calling my house and you don't want me to know who you are before I pick up the phone, YOU DON'T NEED TO BE CALLING MY HOUSE THEN SMARTASS!

Neenee: Me either-you know what gets on my nerves?

Me: huh

Neenee: When people call and right after you say hello, they go, "Who's this?"

Me: So rude! How the hell hard is it to say-I'm sorry I looking for so and so-is this the right number?

Neenee: You know what I do? I go, "Uh-ah you called MY house, who the hell are YEEEW?"

Me: That's what I'm going to say next time.....rude people-I swear....




We had a pretty productive conversation I think

My dog Peanut: Merciless Killer, Shameless Beggar

We are harboring a soulless family member in this house. I've introduced you to him before. He's our Peanut and he leaves no lizard unmamed. We've tried to stop him, we've tried to reason with him, we've asked him to go to couseling but, alas ,we might have to give up trying to convince him. Please, lizards of the world, I offer my apologies. I'm not even sure if he even knows that he kills them dead. His hunting instincts are so strong within, he gets that scary shark frenzy look in his eyes, and....as his loving adopted mother I can only defend his ways by saying I think he might even 'blank out' for a few seconds....maybe there's hope for him.... maybe not. As part of forcing him to confront his demons and take responsibility for his actions I am compelled to share the disturbing secrets for the sake of his reform and repentance. Close your eyes, faint of heart....


Victim #1 appearred early one morning last weekend looking for lady bugs on my ivy plant. I stayed quiet so as not to alarm Peanut and bring out the dark side of my dog ...


...it was too late for this poor lizard .
If I scream, it just makes him even crazier but oh! How can I not?
You see, in his defense, he doesn't understand the concept of death and pleads not guilty by reason of mental immaturity. Do you see how he hovers over it waiting for it move so he can "play" with his new found friend?
He always thinks our goal is then to steal his new friend from him and can spend hours hovering over the poor thing guarding it then giving up and leaving the body on display for us to find right by the door hoping for the words he so loves to hear,"Wow Peanut! Good boy-you're the best hunter EVER!"
I'm so sorry lizard.



Victim #2 appeared in a similar fashion as Victim #1 only I didn't make it in time yet again to save his life. I heard a loud scratch...scratch... then a loud pop! Only to find this clue:
Where is the proprieter of this tail? In my dog's MOUTH! Gross!




He lurked over this one like Gollum would his ring....

Finally losing interest when he smelled hotdogs cooking in the kitchen leaving the body behind, forgotten in the dooryway yet again.

Tailless, bruised, lifeless--Peanut doesn't even have the capacity for enough mercy to bury the poor thing or at least place him gently to his rest in the toilet.

Do you think he would have at least a moment of silence?

Nope-
Five minutes later.....time to beg for hotdogs.

Begging for hotdogs SHAMELESSLY I should add.
MR.PEA wishes to remain anonymous as he had no part or knowledge of the alleged 'incident' that happenned on the balcony that fateful day. I DID NOT give Peanut any hotdogs because 1-I don't reward him for this behavior and 2-I don't eat hotdogs. But I can't say that MR.PEA did not give him any....


One would think he would perhaps be secretly horrified over his actions and lose sleep over his behavior.


Does this look like a guilty conscience to you? Nope this dog is completely satisfied with himself and his accomplishments and rewards himself for, what he considers, a job well done with a nap in the sun. A belly full of hotdogs and the knowledge that he has purged his territory of lizards, he is content. I have a feeling he may just be a sociopath...what do you think?




PS I'm not an idiot, I promise. For some reason spell check doesn't work for my computer as a popup so I do my best checking for mispells myself -but I can't get them all....if you think I'm an idiot because of the mispells I won't be mad at you. But Peanut might-so keep it to yourself, he'll find you, you've seen his work.

The A-hole family(chapter 1)

If you know me personally then you've probably heard me refer to some people as the asshole family as I like to give everyone their very own special nicnames and this one totally fits like a glove. If not and you'd like to know who the asshole family is have a seat honey. You see, a few years ago, my husband and I moved to a new area so that he could start a new job. We shared a 3 bedroom condo in a nice little development. There were five of us not including the pets-my husband, Peanut and me, a single guy training to be an airline pilot, and the asshole family which included The Asshole and The Asshole Wife. They also had a cute, sweet little Yorkie who I hate to include as a member of the asshole family and felt really sad about leaving behind when we moved out. Especially since I was the only who took care of her for the most part while we were there. If I could've stolen her-I would have. Technically, I should say they were our landlords since it was THEIR condo and we were basically just renting out one of the bedrooms but everyone had free roam over the house but I never really considered them landlords and even if they had not been our landlords I still would've thought they were assholes. I was providing free dogwalking and did most of the cleaning. Not because I was expected to mind you-I love animals and I don't necessarily like cleaning but I do like living in a clean environment. They were some of the messiest people on earth but I didn't pick up after them in any way it was like "paperwork" messiness that they left lying around. Anyway we'll get into that another time.
When I moved in, MR.PEA had already been living there for a couple of months and I had spent most of the winter with his family in Canada. Our plan was to stay in the condo for a couple months since the price was reasonable and it was a nice comfortable area, plus we wanted to make sure his new job was fairly secure. My first or second night there they offered to make dinner for me as a sort of welcome which I thought was nice. MR.PEA doesn't eat other people's food(to be blogged about at another time) so he joined us but ate his own food and I was happy that I didn't have to cook. We got into a conversation about cars and I mentioned that MR.PEA and I were considering buying a new car but I had reservations about the one were looking at because I couldn't drive a stick. I didn't want MR.PEA to teach me how because the last time he tried to teach me, it was a disaster(also to be blogged about later). The Asshole said,"I can teach you how I've taught a few people how and I'm a very patient teacher." The Asshole Wife was very enthusiastic and said how great and idea that was so we made arrangements to start the very next day.
Now I must point out that my husband had already gotten to know them before I had and told me later on that evening that I shouldn't take driving lessons from this guy because he was a jerk. I said,"oh I'm sure it'll be fine, they seem like decent people and anyway it would've been rude of me to say no, plus if you want this car I have to learn how to drive it or else we'll have to keep looking."
So the day of the lesson: it started out ok, I was slow to get into first gear without stalling but I was doing pretty good I thought. Now I won't specify the Asshole's ethnicity-he was European-that didn't have anything to do with him being an asshole but being half Asian myself and my husband is French and there are some characteristics we have because that's how we were raised and that can simply be explained by saying just that-I'm half Asian that's all. He had this sort of authoritative way of explaining things and had so little patience contrary to what he said. He kept sighing and rolling his eyes and belittling me every time I made a mistake. I admit I'm more sensitive than most but I don't expect people I've just met to behave that way. I started watching him from the side of my eyes because I started to suspect this man was crazy. I mean with the exception of the time my husband tried to teach me how, 3 years before that day, this was the first time I had ever driven a stick shift and I think I was doing pretty damn good. But this man was beginning to raise his voice and it was beginning to scare me. He kept repeating the same thing over and over: "You place your left foot over the clutch and with your right hand, ease into second gear." I said," Uh I have a question..." Him(interrupting in a louder voice),"NO, you don't ask questions, you place your left foot over the clutch and with your right hand, ease into second gear!"
This happened several times and of course I was getting irritated with him as I am an adult not accustomed to being yelled at as a means to learning how to do something new but I stuck with it simply for the sake of getting back home just so I could get away from this crazy person who the night before had been acting like a normal, charming, educated, SANE human being. Finally after about an hour of this 'abuse' I said you know what I'm done for now, you can drive us home. And said nothing more and just sort of looked at him like 'I mean it asshole!' This seemed to get him back into 'normal mode' and he said,"Great-you did great! same time tomorrow?"



Did I have a second lesson or did I tell this man to screw himself? Stay tuned for chapter 2 to find out.......



PS In case you were wondering-I am feeling a little better and still waiting to hear about when my scan is scheduled so I can find out of I need radioiodine again or not. Keeping our fingers crossed over here!!

I'm home yay!(sorry this is a damn novel)

I thought I would have to stay until at least Thursday but I was able to leave Wednesday, just a little over 24 hours from when I got there. So here's how it went:

I arrived at about 2pm and of course it took a little while to sign all the paperwork then they brought me to this room. If only I had thought about taking a picture of the view; a large concrete courtyard--no trees or even a random bird but I got the evening sun since it faced the west. I think that's bad Feng Shui though(not that I practice it I just read a book about it once). But I wasn't there to give decorating advice so I kept that to myself.

I noticed that everything I would be touching was covered in latex or paper. So as not to spread my radioactive germs. I did wonder why they didn't cover up the phone. I wanted so badly to get a quick pix of the faucet fixtures because they were covered in latex gloves too and I laughed everytime I went in there because they looked like they were giving the middle finger! My nurse came in though and told me to change into a gown. Don't you love how they call those things gowns? As if you're going to a gala or something?



Does this look like the face a brave person? I mean really! They brought in this thick metal pod about the size of a fist. They used tongs to carry it and inside was the radioiodine pill that they made my husband leave the room before they would even twist it open because of the radiation it contained and I'm expected to just swallow it without freaking out-thus the twisted face I'm making here. At least my gown matched the paint on the wall and had that sexy little cut out to accentuate my shoulders.

So we kissed goodbye and he left the room and we were told he wasn't allowed to visit. He could bring me food/toiletries if I wanted something and hand it to me from the doorway but we couldn't leave the door open for longer than a few seconds so visiting was out of the question.

Then I was given my mission. After swallowing the pill I had to wait for the Nuclear Guy, his name was Joe(but I called him the Nuclear Guy because it made me happy) and his job was to point a microphone shaped instrument at me and measure my number which would be 55 at the highest. I wasn't allowed to use the bathroom until after the first time he came. After he came and measured me and all around my room he told me that the number I'm aiming for in order to be safe enough to go home was 30. The best way to get there quickly was to drink a lot of liquids and pee a lot. Also to take at least two showers a day. I asked how long this usually takes he says most people take 2 days but every once in a while he'll get someone who can do it in one day. He said it's rare but possible; he'll does the rounds twice a day-beginning at 9am and again at 4:30pm. I said to watch me I'll get the f- out of here tomorow night. In my mind I thought to myself these people don't know me- all I drink is water, even when I'm not thirsty so my kidney and bladder team are extremely clean and superman fast, and shower twice day? huh.. I'll do 3-4 showers. He said, "It's been done. If I come in the afternoon and you're really close, we'll put in a call to wait an hour and check you again at 7 and if you're at a safe level, you get to go home." So I had a goal in that decrepid room. Well it wasn't decrepid but let's face it, it's a hospital room, not exactly the funnest(is that a word?) place to be.



Here's a pic of the outside of the door I wasn't allowed to open. There was girl in the room next to mine who was in for the same treatment as me and since it was Halloween she wore a prisoner costume which was pretty funny. I never got to speak to her though. I did hear her singing in the shower once. That night I didn't eat much because the food was pretty nasty-stuffed pork chops which, in actuality looked like a pork chop that someone puked on(apologies to the easily grossed out). I decided to eat the putrid green beans and some crackers that I brought on my own. I did take an extra shower and maybe around 11 began to feel pretty naseous. They told me it was a possible side affect along with slight cramps, sore salivary glands, dry mouth and fatigue. I fell asleep for probably an hour and then my nurse came in to check my temperature and pulse. I sort of had a mini-inner-panic moment when she came in because I was asleep and when I woke up I forgot where I was and why I was there and in she walks in full scrubs and a surgical mask and I guess so as not to scare me she stayed quiet for a second and just looked at me. The fact that it was Halloween didn't help. For a split second I thought maybe she was a serial killer who snuck into the hospital on Halloween night and decided to make me the first victim. Anyway she was actually very sweet. I slept pretty decent that night considering my paranoia and nausea that seemed to get worse as the hours passed-the nausea not the paranoia.

That morning they woke me up early and gave me some nasty eggs that looked like someone made scrambled but chewed up then spit out onto a plate for my convenience. I forced myself to eat the banana bread which was gross too. Since I knew the Nuclear Guy was coming soon-I had already been drinking tons of water. I even changed my sheets and of course showered. I asked him what my number was he said 42. So I spent the rest of the day drinking more water and Gatorade and tried very hard not to get grossed out by the grilled ham and cheese sandwich and wierd looking shredded carrot-raison-cream concoction. MR.Pea offered to to bring me something else but at that point I so did not want any food. I did tell him to bring me something for dinner for sure so I don't die of starvation in there. At about 4:15 I took another shower just to give myself a little bit of hope but I didn't really think it would work. I just do better when I have a goal. So our Nuclear Guy came in around 5:30 and measured my number, looked at me funny and says, "how much water have you been drinking?" I said, "altogether 7 bottles, 3 last night 4 since this moring plus that one big one of Gatorade, 2 apple juice, one Sierra mist, and one orange juice." He said," do you want to know what your number is?" I said,"of course" He said,"28.9" Music started in my head and I said,"I can leave!!!!Does that mean I can go now?" He said I had to wait for my paperwork to get signed and that I needed to call someone to bring me something to wear. Well MR.Pea was already halfway to the hospital with my sandwich and we live a half hour away so I told him I would call my parents and borrow something from my mom.

It took a long time because they got lost and this is the ensemble she brought me. It was like fifty sizes too big but like I cared, right? Check out the shoes. I don't even need to post a Friday fashion don't this week- just look at my size 7 1/2 shoes on my size 5 feet. I was so damn happy to leave that room. I mean honestly, it wasn't so bad-it's not like I was even in there that long I just hated not being at home in my own "stuff". But that's why I haven't posted until today. I've been trying to get over the nausea---I'm a little better today. I have a comfortable futon, squooshy blanket, mini dvd player set up going in the guest room and bath so as not to expose the husband and Peanut to my delta and gamma rays. But I can hang out in there with them as long as I stay 5 feet away like a damn untouchable so it's been ok. Peanut keeps trying to sneak in like a little thief and lay down on all the layers of blankets and pillows just because he's not allowed. Poor Peanut had to go to the vet himself yesterday for an infection and I feel bad that I can't really baby him as he's used to. But we've always had this cool connection and it's as if he KNOWs that I'm sick because he's been so gentle towards me since my surgery. He did steal my stuffed one eyed vampire ghost my husband bought me from Starbucks yesterday and "killed it". Theif.

So here's the deal: there's a possibility I'll have to do this again. And if that's still not successful I will have to have surgery again to remove the "suspicious looking tissue behind my collar bone". I won't know whether or not this one time was good enough to kill off the rest of the cancer cells until my body scan on the 13th at 7 f-ing 30 AM. I'm crossing my fingers but I don't want to get my hopes up because either way I'll cry but I'll get over it(no choice)-I had a rough time this week getting over the nausea(which I still have) and the swollen sore glands on the sides of my face and under my chin. The fatigue is do-able, I'm sort of just used to being tired all the time now. It's annoying but not painful. I'm just doing whatever my doctor tells me. If this was good enough I'll be considered cured and can start taking my thyroid hormones again and get back to my regular life.

--*sappy moment warning*---
I never started this blog to complain about cancer or ever thought I would ever ever even be sharing this part of my life with anyone. I thought I would have this cute little blog becaue I was the youngest of 4 siblings who thought everything I did or said was funny and cute and then married a beautiful, wonderful man who thinks everything I say and do is funny and cute and that I would just continue being funny and cute in the blogosphere(I just learned that word this year so I feel cool being able to use it) but it's been a sort of 'therapy' for me to just put it out there for whoever stopped by. There have been so many good wishes sent to my email by people I don't even know; a few of whom whose blogs I ENVY like there's no tomorow. So thanks guys for the well wishes and prayers and everything. I can't stress enough how much strength I store up from all the "good lucks". I am totally humbled and have a better appreciation and understanding of what it's like to be in someone else's shoes. Like I said before this could be worse-and for that I'm SOOOO thankful. I get irritated when people cry when I talk about what's been going on because I don't like being in the position of having to be consoling to other people about all this(I'm selfish that way-but so what that's how I deal with it) or being looked at with pity,that's the last thing I need right now ya know? But I understand, you what though? I say DO NOT GET OUT THE TISSUE BOX FOR ME EVER-leave it where it is. I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm staying right here. This isn't even the killer that heart disease, breast cancer, leukemia, aids, and 100s other health problems are. But it's put me on my ass for a minute and now I'm getting up and taking my gloves off. I mean believe me I do have those moments where I'm scared and sad and maybe feel a little sorry for myself about what I'm going through but it's all such a waste of energy and much more fun to be able to say Fuck thyroid cancer, bring it on.