Thursday, January 27, 2011


I have several thoughts rolling around my head right now and i just need to purge.

I have always adored Steven Tyler, but I have a full blown crush on the man right now. I am so enjoying him on American Idol. I don't even miss Simon What's His Name. Steven is so engaging and sexy. mm mmm.

I am a new follower to the blog Backwards in High Heels and I love love love ms. Kindersley's postings and pictures. She is such a joy to read and her pictures are so calming and stressfree.

I read an article about vegans the other day and I cannot stop thinking about the insects used for Red Dye in foods. So I had to investigate further. Turns out these insects have been used for red dye since the Aztecs and Mayan cultures. The red dye is used to color cloth and used in food coloring. It lost popularity when chemicals became easier to use, but the carcinogens produced with the manmade food coloring had them turning back to the insects. I don't mind doing things naturally. I know where my chicken comes from; I understand it had a face once and I understand the slaughter process. I accept this knowledge everytime I choose to eat a chicken quesadilla. I don't think I'm comfortable with the insect dye when its only purpose is to make it (whatever it is) aesthetically pleasing. So my investigation has only made me ponder more, instead of less.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Old Stuff

I'm thinking about my girls and how fast they grow up. I can't help but feel a little sad about the stories, funnies, and otherwise special moments in our lives that I have already forgotten. I thought I would start writing some of the things I actually do remember before its too late and they are lost.

Today I'm going to start with one of my earliest memories of My Dreamer. It was the day I brought her home from the hospital. Okay, on with the story. I went to bed with my daughter and put her in the bed beside me. I awoke in the middle of the night and wondered why my hubby hadn't come to bed yet. I started to get up to tell him to come to bed when I saw him on a blanket on the floor. He didn't want to wake us up, so he went to sleep on the floor. I was moved. What a sweetheart.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

We LOVE my chili!

One of the interesting side bits with Uncle Ira has been his newfound honesty. It's quite childlike in that he is without guile. I will give you an example (after all, that is why I'm here). His sister came by to visit with him. He told her that their brother would be coming by with his wife at 3pm. His sister watched the clock and was sure to leave at 10 minutes til 3. When their brother and sister in law arrived, Uncle Ira told them that he had explained to the sister they would be there at 3 and she left promptly 10 minutes before she knew they would be there.

Now, BBT (Before Brain Tumor), Uncle Ira would not have pointed out the obvious...that sister did not want to see brother and sister in law.

Also, I am the kind of woman who has never felt responsible for Uncle Ira's food intake. He is a grown man and can feed himself. I did not marry and get a job so that I could come home after 9 hours at work and make dinner for someone else. That being said, I do enjoy to cook now and then and he has always appreciated and enjoyed when I do cook. When I was learning to cook, he would choke down some really awful stuff and tell me how wonderful it was and he would take second helpings. But that was a long time ago, now I really cook...I chop, I slice, I use garlic and herbs and spices and I shop at the farmers market where I appreciate every little item I bring home and take sweet sweet care that it is the yummiest. ABT (after brain tumor), when I offer up leftover dinner for his lunch, he says "Well I should've told you last night but dinner was awful".  After I picked my chin up off the floor, I couldn't even respond. I was speechless. First of all, it was NOT awful. Secondly, he has never said that to me before.

Now, I have taken it in stride since the cereal episode. But still...this is lunacy.  Oh yea, the cereal episode. I bought him a new kind of cereal. He loves frosted mini wheats and they have a new kind with fruit in the middle. He had a bowl last night for a snack. I asked him what he thought of the new cereal and he said it wasn't very good, he didn't like it. This morning he ate a bowl for breakfast. He says to me "It's good now." I said, "How can that be?" and he says, "It's better this morning than it was last night". Well, I've been eating cereal for many many years and I can tell you, quite honestly, it doesn't get better with age. Nothing happened in the box overnight to make it taste better this morning.

I am thinking his brain is talking to his taste buds differently. That is the oh so obvious reason he is not crazy about my cooking.

Oh, I said I would buy some hamburger meat to make some chili and he says "you don't want to ruin that hamburger meat like that".  What? We LOVE my chili!

So don't think I"m not tempted to ask him questions now that his lying-ometer is out of whack. I know there is a small window before that survival-guile will kick in. But do I really want to know?

Friday, January 21, 2011

Small Things & Nicknames

I know it seems like I am a glass half empty kind of gal. I reread my posts and they aren't exactly uplifting. I think it's important to point out that I go through my day in a very upbeat way and these writings are what allows me to do this. I put on a good face and I laugh with my friends and with my children all because I have this outlet into the anonymous universe where it doesn't even matter that no one is reading my words.

That being said, I find myself enjoying small moments. I mean really appreciating. In the moment kinds of things. They are usually at the end the day. After a hard day of work, and seeing to the needs of my high maintenance nine year old and my rehabilitating hubby, I like to put on my flannel pj's. I then make myself a) a cup of hot cocoa or b) a glass of riesling, I then retire to my oasis of a bedroom. I climb up into the middle of my gorgeous bed with my expensive chocolate colored sheets and aqua pillows and luxurious white down comfortor and I put the telly on HGTV and just relax. It feels so good that it is difficult to describe. I feel normal. I feel better than normal. It is my slice of heaven.

So I am trying to come up with nicknames for my family while I write about them. I have never been a nickname kind of person. My sister has a son she calls "Bear"; I call him William. I have just never been very good at nicknames. I have three fabulous daughters and they are each unique in their own way and it would be difficult to describe them with just one word. However, it seems the thing to do and so I am going to try.

My oldest daughter is 21. When she was younger we were close like peanut butter and jelly. I always knew what she was thinking and feeling. We grew up together. Now she is an independent young lady with thoughts and ideas of her own. She is studying at a private Bible institute has no idea what she wants to be when she grows up, but she wants to change the world. I know she can succeed at whatever she wants to do. She is a dreamer and we all know "you gotta take some time to dream because your dream might save us all"!  I will call her My Dreamer.

My 2nd daughter is 19. When she was younger we were like peanut butter and mayonnaise. Sometimes we were good together, but you had to be in the mood for something different. She grew up very independent, and very competitive with My Dreamer. Which was interesting because My Dreamer was never interested in competing with her and was happy for all her successes. She is currently attending the University of Houston. She wants to do everything when she grows up. She is very political and has very opinionated opinions. I will call her My Senator.

My third daughter is 9. She is full of light and life. She lights up a room and makes people laugh. She adores her sisters and they are mostly in adoration of her as well. She wants to be an actress when she grows up. She loves fashion and accessories. I will call her My Diva.

Well now I only have my husband left and that will complete my cast of characters. This one is a little tougher because he isn't exactly the person he has always been. Since the brain tumour, and consequently with the tumor removal, he isn't exactly himself. I will call him Uncle Ira. I will leave it to you to figure that out on your own. ;)

Monday, January 17, 2011


Do not fear what you don't really know.
This is a line from a Brett Dennen song. I think it applies to my life as well as so many others. We tend to worry about the unseen, the unknown. We conjure up fears in our head that add stress to our bodies, to our spirits. Then we have the idiot box screaming more fear at us, just in case we forgot to be afraid of all the things we haven't thought of yet. I don't even have to give examples here. You know what I mean.

When I first named my blog, I was in a very different place in my life. You could ask all my friends and they would tell you that Susan is not a worrier. I am a Pisces, I have always gone with the flow. I did not play the "what if" game in my head and I would deal with whatever arose as it came. I would try and pass this calming way of being to my friends. They always seemed to be expending so much energy on fear of things that had yet to be and most times would NEVER come to be. I am of the philosophy that when you continually worry about something, you are just attracting it to you. Words are very very powerful. They have power long after they have left your mouth and entered the universe.

But back to my blog title. Back to me.

Something has shifted. Something inside of me has shifted. It is like my body is absorbing the impact of the changes in my life. I still seem outwardly easy going and calm, but the stress levels have been so intense that the shockwaves are rippling through my body. I can feel it in my gut. I can feel it in my kidneys and my adrenal gland and my heart. I feel what I can only describe as quick electrical shocks. My hands are swollen, my face feels swollen. I thought I had perhaps put on some holiday weight, but over the past two months, I've actually lost half a pound.

I know all this stress on my body is NOT a good thing. I know that I need to do something about it and take better care of myself. It just feels so foreign. I feel like I am in someone else's body. Someone else's life.

I find myself pushing all the things I should be worrying about into a box. There are unpaid bills to take care of, disability paperwork to complete, Christmas presents to put in the post. I am raking them all to this small box in my head and not thinking about them. And then I feel a sharp pang in my chest area. My breathing becomes shallow.

I guess I am in the denial stage? Probably not.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Higher Expectations

I went bra shopping today. I don't think it has been that long since my previous bra shopping excursion, but something was amiss. Now I don't normally put my underclothes on in front of a mirror. My husband works the late shift and I am usually dressing myself in the dark before going into the hall bathroom to take care of the hair and other finishing touches in front of the mirror. So today when I stood under the funny lights in the department store, and tried on a dozen bras, I was dismayed to find that my breasts were not exactly where I had left them. That little lean forward I've always done turned out to be a lean and scoop! A lean and scoop I tell you! Oh sure, they looked deceivingly the same once they were firmly tucked and propped in the lace and lycra...I guess I should be glad of at least that...but c'mon! When did this happen? Why didn't I notice this betrayal? I keep hearing that 50 is the new 40 for women. WTFE. this is crap.

Friday, January 7, 2011