So, Dr. Creepy is a nice guy, no question. I even feel a little odd sometimes calling him Dr. Creepy. But sorry, Dr. Sterkin, the name has stuck. You see, I do understand his care for his patients and pride in his work, but encounters like today just reaffirm the name.

I revisited the good ole doc to see about nipples and pain and figure out why one boob points north and one points south. As always, the doctor is friendly. Then he gets to the measuring of the boobs, the pinching, the pushing, the compressing. Yes, he does even pull out a regular old measuring tape. And there is always the infamous photo session. The doctor pulls a secret black screen down out of the ceiling in the examining room. Come on, you'd think "creepy" too, right?! While I am still shirtless, Dr. Creepy dictates, "Stand against the screen with your
arms behind your back and chest out. Okay, turn to your right...click...now to your left...click...now lift up your breasts and squeeze. No, not like that...more underneath...no...Oh, let me show you...click." Just a little bit creepy. And now I'm sore. Thanks for the squeeze, Doc!

Then comes the discussion of corrective surgery. Whether or not upcoming physical
therapy will help decrease scar tissue build up and the capsular contracture and
how much more weight I lose will determine some things. But it appears that one
of my boobs needs a "pocket correction". I swear I love these terms they come up
with. It sounds like a friggin button fell off my shirt and needs to be sewn
back on. But that would not correlate with the 2 1/2 hour surgery he predicts it
will take to correct the wondering implant. Leave it to me to have breast
implants that somehow manage to sag. "God, your sense of humor is killing me
down here!"

Okay, Doc, what the hell is pocket correction?  "Well, we'll need to take more alloderm (human tissue matrix) and reconstruct the pocket that holds the implant, lifting it back and tighter in place. Although, I might need to use pig skin this time." Whoooooaaaa. Hold the horses, Doc! "Did you say Pig Skin?" He chuckled in an oh so creepy way, "Well, yes."


And there I leave you, folks. Because now I really have to Google "Pig Skin and Breast Implants"...and I am kind of scared of the results I'm gonna get. Can you imagine if the FBI every searched my computer? Wow, there would be some explaining to do.

Queen Latifa did a movie, Last Holiday, in which she has a Book of Possibilities. I believe everyone, young or old, should create such a book. It reminds us of what can be. I like that. Because, honestly, life can dish up some crazy ass @#$%, and a Book of Possibilities sure helps focus on the good and the future.

With my son back from college and laying on my couch, I quickly realized this. See, first my dander was up because I wanted him to get going, set sail, not fail to launch. Then I realized I had given him about 24 hours since he graduated before I started getting aggitated. Although I set sail when I was 18, that doesn't mean that was the right thing to do. But as I talked to him I realized it was all about possibilities. His, mine, his sister's. I realized it is never-ending. We started talking about me finishing my degree, him going on to an advanced degree...all possibilities. This is a powerful time for all three of us because it is a time for all of us to follow our possibilities, leaving each other, and stepping out in the new adventures...our own separate adventures.

My son is imaginatively convinced that my due diligence underwriting, which often entails fraud investigation, could somehow, someday involve a movie with Tom Cruise scaling our duplex and him and I speeding away after the bad guys. Hey, possibilities. Although I'd much prefer Jason Stathem. Hell, I'd go get a car wash with that man! Hhhhmm, possibilities. Silliness? Yes, maybe. But as I look down at my pile of bills and consider the alternative...I'll take possibilities!

And so my son shows me how to strive for those possibilities. Today he submits his short film to the Milwaukee Art/Film Festival. Then tomorrow he submits it to the Canadian Art/Film Festival. No matter what the outcome...or what stage of life...

It's all about the possibilities.

25 years ago I said, "I do."
I do love you.
I do want to live with you.
I do want to buy a home with you.
I do want children with you.
I do want be there for you. 
I do want to spend my life with you.

That day you too said, "I do."
You do want me to live with you as your maid.
You do want me to handle the purchase of the home.
You do want me to bare our children and care for them.
You do want me to be there for you.

25 years ago...
You wanted me to wear the ugly dress
The dress that made me all of those things for you
And made me nothing in my own eyes
Today is an anniversary
Today is not the celebartion of 25 years being married
Today is the day to celebrate the ugly dress getting buried
Never to be seen again.

Biggest Loser contest is now in week 2. I am hanging in there at number 3 out of the women contestants. There are 110 participants, so I'm thinking that ain't so bad. I am certainly keeping up in the classes. These are intense hour long work-outs with absolutley no rest between jumping, running, crunching, burpee-ing, balancing, lifting, stretching, etc. It's crazy...makes the hours I spend jogging seem like child's play. There is a sense of fellowship that developes, all of us encouraging each other, insisting we are going to survive Tom's hour long torture chamber.  Hoping to keep up the pace so I can once again enter a Triathlon. Baby steps...keep having to tell myself...baby steps.

The bad news today was that my older brother, Grant, had ACL surgery and just informed me his running days are over. He suddenly made me appreciate being able to work out. My brother, pictured here with his wife,  Aradhna, and my mom, Hendrika, in California is an amazing man. He was by my side often during my recovery from cancer and orchestrated my financial support during that incredibly rough time, even driving me to the Mayo Clinic in the dead of winter from Milwaukee to Rochester, Minnesota.  We have texted back and forth this evening, so I know that the surgery went well. But I also know he must feel a sense of loss not being able to run.  It's so important to have that outlet of physical exercise that not only keeps you fit but clears your mind and brings you back to the center of yourself.

So, my dearest brother, I think of you tonight. Pray for your speedy recovery. And hope you once again find an outlet to clear your mind and soul. Don't worry...like your older sister...I soon plan on subjecting you to a blog entry all of your own with some embarrassing childhood pictures and stories. Believe me, I have found some good ones. Although your niece has confirmed my fear...you have always been so damn handsome. Until then, I am certain you'll be wowing us all again shortly with your intellect, wit, artful ability with the spoken work, and good looks...even on crutches. From Milwaukee to Pittsburgh...sending you love! You are the best big brother a gal could have!

My daughter, my youngest, turns 14 years old today. In an effort to support her dream of dancing for a living, I have created her dance studio the best I can in an apartment for her birthday present. I am a hopeless supporter of the arts, urging both my children to follow their dreams. Perhaps not the most practical urgings, but when the entire world is insisting on practicality, I think our kids need some support in the fanciful. Afterall, practicality dictates our lives, often takes over our lives. Delving into the fanciful is so important, relieving us from the stress of life. Seeing this room, my daughter had me immediately doing turns and spins. She was surprised that her old Mamma could actually do a few well formed turns. And in doing those turns I was able to go back in time. Oh, how delicious to revisit youth. My birthday gift to my daughter ended being a gift to myself as well.

Here my daughter won her first award last year in dance. Looking like she's in a 1940s film, I was in awe as a mom. I so hope my kids can both realize their dreams in the arts. As I watched my son graduate with his specialty in animation and my daughter getting into an arts school for dance, I remember getting accepted to UCLA's theatre arts program. I was a fool to leave college, but I thought becoming a wife was where it was all at...leaving just one year short of graduating. Inner dialogue: "So, how did that work out for you, Susanne?" "Just fabulous. Thanks for reminding me!" Hope my kids are smarter than their mom about their education and relationship choices. But today, I just want my daughter to enjoy the fanciful life, dancing to her heart's content and watching her mom fall flat on her butt trying to do the splits. I'll do anything to keep them laughing. Happy birthday, Clair Bear!

You watch me.
You judge me.
You are certian you know me.
My hair makes you certain I am like an old friend.
My mannerisms remind you of an old teacher.
My voice sounds like that of a colleague at work.
My jokes make you laugh like someone else did before.
You have me figured out.
You know how I am feeling without bothering to ask me.
You know what I like and dislike without listening to what I say.
You have me figured out.
You are certain you know me.
You know I need your help when I have not asked.
You know I am not good at something.
You know I lack education.
You know I am emotional.
You know I am just no good.
You have me figured out.
You are certain you know me.
You don't.

My day job will not be appearing much on my blog. Many a blogger have been fired from their day job due to recounting the ridiculous behaviors of their employers and co-workers, which I choose not to do.  I need the pay check. Actually, I am an independent contractor and have been for about 4 years now and have worked from home for the last year. I was fortunate that my contract employer agreed to let me work from home amidst all the cancer treatments. But there are most certainly pitfalls to working at home. I was self-employed for about ten years prior to the end of my marriage, so I did learn that you have to focus. I remember delivering loan documents with my new baby, the 2nd child, with me just days after I gave birth. And let me tell you that breast feeding, holding a conference call, and doing data entry on the computer all at the same time is no small feat. And, honestly, not a feat I would like to repeat...a little too much multi-tasking. You have to have a special filter placed in your brain, especially when you have kids at home who seem completely oblivious to the fact that you are attempting to concentrate and make a living. "Oh, Mom's here...lets talk to her NOW." This, of course, is in lieu to responding to mom's many requests for their attention every other time of the day.

My day job is as a due diligence mortgage underwriter, and, yes, it is as dry as it sounds. That might explain why I thirst to write creatively into the wee hours. And, yes, my chair spins and the spinning feature gets a lot of use...keeps me from going completely batty. Although if anyone came into my home and saw this 46 year old woman spinning in her office chair around the dining room, one might argue that I have, indeed, already gone batty.

I close the bathroom door gently.
Turning on the faucet,
Tears stream effortlessly,
Muffled sobs.
I wash my hands,
Water still running.
Tears have no end in sight,
Water still running.
I dry my hands,
Water still running.
I wipe away the tears,
Water still running.
I take a deep breath,
Turning the water off.
I open the bathroom door gently.
I go about my day.

This is the price I pay for going against conventional wisdom...do not plant outside before Memorial Day in Wisconsin. Ugh! I worked a 10 hour day, worked out in Boot Camp for several hours, came home, and after showering, plopped down on the couch at 11pm only to see on the news that frost was expected. Seriously?!


Up off the couch I go to move the balcony jungle completely inside. I kept telling myself it was another work out, but honestly I just wanted to lay down flat on the floor next to the plants and pass out. A couple of days ago it was over 85 degrees and today it barely cracked 45 with frost temps last night. I am not made for this type of weather and apparently neither are the plants.

Even in cold temps, the lawn does manage to grow. It's a tiny lawn only requiring the old manual cutting mower, but still kind of a pain in the @#$. I am lucky though to have a landlord who loves gardening and lived in this place before. She planted tons of perennials that are coming up now. Every time I pass by the side of the house I see new flowers, ferns, hostas. It's so fun to see what might come up next. A good diversion from work. Although if I had my druthers, I'd sit in the garden weeding and planting all day long. Well, not if it's 40 degrees out. Then again, there is the guy fixing the foundation next door...might brave the cold to watch him. I may have had cancer, but I'm not dead yet!  "Hey, Kids, I'm going outside to pull some weeds now!"

Sunny skies made it possible today for me to bring the plants back outside, and my son was kind enough to do the manual mowing detail. Hopefully I don't sit down tonight and see a frost warning again!

Long weekend...holiday...yes, working, but hopefully we finally see consistent warm weather.  Next stop? My daughter's 14th birthday and possible beach visits.

Like many sisters, my older sister and I have had our differences. Both being  strong-willed, temperamental, creative types certain we are always right, we have clashed over the years. With an 8 year age difference there seemed very little for us to have in common. Here we are pictured as acolytes for an Episcopal chuch in Washington DC. My sister's love of the church grew very quickly during her late teens, and her passion blossomed into a desire to become a nun. My mother was beside herself, insisting my sister finish college first. She did, never losing that desire for the monastic life

So, the divorced parents, grandmother, brother, and sister convened at a secluded convent in the Baltimore area to celebrate my sister, Laura's, entry into the religious life. Yes, my sister had become a sister. But the tale doesn't stop there.  My sister also had a passion for a certain nun. The late 70s were not an easy time for a young woman to come out of the closet and declare she was gay. Can you imagine being a lesbian nun who is having a fling with another nun? Okay, now we can all laugh about it because it really is a hoot, but in those days my sister's life was not an easy one. She and the special nun were sent packing and stayed together in the secular life for a time. The rest of us were pretty much scratching our heads going, "What just happened here?"

My sister delved into her life as if she was a newly freed caged bird. Our paths rarely crossed as she stayed living in Baltimore while my mom and I trekked to Santa Barbara. We grew close, then apart, sometimes not speaking for long periods of time, unsure how to communicate with one another.  Laura had several long term relationships with some very, well let's just call them colorful characters. She then entered a relationship with a woman who appeared stable and good for Laura. They bought a home together and settled into a long life together. My sister grew her business as a successful historic restorationist and proceeded to rehab their old home.

In November 2012, Maryland finally made it legal for homosexual couples to marry. In the same month, my sister's life partner of 14 years left her for another woman. Isn't it funny how conservatives say that marriage is only for one man and one woman? Because the way I see it, gay couples have the same issues as any straight couples out there. Fear of commitment, trouble communicating, who's gonna do the dishes, who's going to pay this bill or that. Why should heterosexual couples have the corner on the misery, I mean happiness, that marriage brings? Well, the moving van came and took the remnants of this woman out of my sister's life. My sister refinanced the house in her name and has started her next journey in life.

Fortunately, last summer we got an opportunity to spend some time together in Maryland before all of this happened. Laura flew me and my daughter out for a long weekend, and it was divine. We searched for shark teeth in the Cheasapeake, ate fabulous crab cakes, and spent hours making jewelry while catching up on each other's lives. My daughter got to know her aunt, and I felt for possibly the first time in my life that I had a sister I could really hang out with. And now I really want to say how proud I am of her accomplishments and struggles in life.

Judging from this latest picture taken of my sister by my mom while visiting Santa Barbara, the break up has done her a world of good! She is already out in the dating world, getting her heart broken all over again. But damn it, she is looking fine doing it!  So, Sis, knock em dead! You have struggled long and hard to get where you are. Now it's time you have someone in your life that appreciates that. Don't settle for anything less. I look forward to being part of the next chapter in your life.