Postscript to Happy Dance! Happy Dance!

Yeah - sort of like this look, only droolier.  (And yes, Roger, I'm posting you and your wiener on the internet)

Another day, another styrofoam box, another really happy Deci.  When I talked to Mom (and thanked her profusely), she told me that the cheesecake was dessert, and the main course should be arriving today.  And it did...  a lovely, lovely 3 pound piece of marbled beef.  Moose, who initially assumed it was a BarkBox, locked eyes onto the roast like the apex predator he thinks he is, and started producing enough drool to drown a small rodent.  I tried telling him that a) it was still frozen; and b) it was about a quarter of his total body weight, but he kept on insisting that he could take it.  I'm afraid my boy has delusions of grandeur.  Or at least his stomach does.  At any rate, I'll try to get pictures Saturday and let you all know how it is - well, it's beef.  It will be delicious.  But I'll try to get more descriptive. 

Happy Dance! Happy Dance!

I have a confession to make - I watch QVC.  Specifically, I watch In The Kitchen With Dave (heck, I've watched it since it was In The Kitchen With Bob, but that's another story.)  It's a sort of porn for me - kitchen gadgets, food, china, food, cookware, did I mention the food?...  These are a few of my favorite things.  I even have ordered a few things - I love my Systema microwave bowls, they're perfect for leftovers, and the enameled cast iron dutch oven is a wonderful piece of work.  Oh, and the Temptations... I really love my few pieces of Temptations. 

But mostly I just watch and covet. When it comes to the food, there's some serious coveting - I mean, these guys could make Campbell's Soup sound irresistible, and I'm helpless when it comes to caramel apples the size of softballs, or lump crab cakes, or croissants that you finish off in your own oven so they're always hot and fresh and...  well, I say helpless, until I look at the pricing, and I just can't bring myself to push the button.  I can't justify indulging myself to that extent... but boy, can I covet.

So... my birthday is coming up Saturday, and I was a little in the dumps about it (I've never dealt well with birthdays, and now that my Cancerversary is in the same time frame, it's just a blue time of year).  Until...  there was a box on the porch today.  A styrofoam box, the kind with dry ice inside.  Turns out my mother, who knows and shares my obsession, sent me (wait for it) Junior's Cheesecake!  Not just Junior's Cheesecake, but the Red Velvet Cheesecake (everyone who knows me, knows I'm a fool for red velvet cake.)  Dessert for Saturday Night Dinner is set, and I'm suddenly feeling much more cheerful and optimistic. 

I've said this before, but I think this is incontrovertible truth - I have the best mom ever!

That's her on the left - but Grandma was incredible too.  

Penny Foolish, Pound Foolish

I believe in Social Security.  I've paid into it all of my adult life, and even if I had never taken a penny from it, I still feel that it makes sense for the society in general to pay into a pool that helps our seniors and the most vulnerable among us survive.  Not just for moral reasons, but for economic reasons - someone who receives their SS check goes out and purchases goods and services with that check, which bumps up our economy and creates jobs, and workers who contribute to Social Security and so on and so on... 

I believe in Welfare and Unemployment Insurance.  Things happen in life, and people slip down the social ladder.  If they're given a net that helps keep them from falling completely off, they can continue back up the rungs once they've got things more in control.  Again, morality should be enough, but sheer practicality here - it's easier for someone to regain control and become a productive (and tax-paying citizen) if they don't hit bottom and still have things like a bed, a shower, a phone number to give to potential employers. 

On to some of the programs that the current administration is determined to gut...  I believe in subsidized school lunch (and breakfast for that matter.)  Despite what Meathead Mulvaney may feel, no, it is not possible to concentrate on school when you're hungry, and school lunch is actually the most cost effective way to feed mass amounts of people (not to mention an inducement to keep coming to school for kids who may be on the ragged edge.) Money spent on school lunch builds (again) future tax-payers and consumers - the lifeblood of our country.

I believe in Upward Bound - you may never have heard of it, but it's a program that saved my education, where disadvantaged kids (yes, I qualified) can get tutoring help and take summer classes to advance their schooling.  Without Upward Bound, I don't know that I would have graduated high school and have become a (say it with me now...)  tax-paying citizen. 

I believe in Job Corps - for kids who can't attend college (or for whom college just doesn't fit), it's basically government-sponsored VoTech education.  Tongue Point, the Center I attended, is a terrific example - it turns out everything from bakers to qualified seamen to drafters for architects.  Again, takes kids who are on the edge and gives them a useful, employable skill (including classes on how to write a resume, drive a car, basic life lessons), which turns them into (you know it) tax-paying citizens.

This is getting a little long now, so I don't have time to get into things like Meals on Wheels or National Parks or the National Institute for Health, but what do all these programs have in common?  They were started and continue to be championed by people who realize that making our citizens a priority is worthwhile both morally and fiscally.  Someone who has gotten a little help along the way (or a lot of help along the way) will be a contributor to society (trust me- I just did my taxes, I'm definitely a contributor) long after the initial investment you make in them. 

Cancer Survivor?

Just filled out a survey, asking for opinions about the term "Cancer Survivor", used for anyone who has had cancer.  I realized that I really hate that phrase...  I am not a cancer survivor.  I mean, yeah.  I have cancer, and yeah, I'm coming up on 4 years now, when I was initially given 2, and I don't see any real issue with me passing the 5 year mark either.  But I don't feel like a survivor. 

I'm also really conflicted with where I am.  I feel guilty, in a way, because I didn't have to go through the horrors of radiation or chemotherapy like some of my friends.  But I'm also angry that I'm still in limbo after all these years - still harboring this malignant little tumor, still stuck with the bladder control of a woman who is permanently 8 months pregnant.  I know it could be so much worse... and yet, it could be so much better.  I could be NED.  I could be cured.  But no... I'm not a survivor.  I'm... paused.  And so is Roger, and so is my mother.  Feeling like if I step on the wrong crack on the sidewalk, Hank will wake up and I'll be back in the thick of it. 

Most days, I ignore the tightrope beneath me and just keep walking.  But there are times like today, when I get reminded. And I get angry all over again.  Give me an hour or two, and I'll bounce back to realizing how incredibly lucky I am.  But don't call me a survivor.  And don't bring any pink merch into the house for a day or two at least...

J'accuse

I've finally figured it out - ok, it took me 51 years, but I have identified my nemesis.  The entity determined to ruin my life...  Yep.  It's my body.  My mind loves me and wants me to be happy... but my body is a stone cold bitch.

I've suspected it for some time (Hank was one hell of a clue, frankly), but I've been looking back and realizing...  whenever I find something that I really enjoy and could potentially be good at, my body finds a way to mess with me.  Take square dancing (and no, don't you judge me!)  I started square dancing when I was in my teens, and loved everything about it - the frilly clothes, the comradery (you never sit on the sidelines at a square dance - if you can't find a guy to dance with, another girl will be happy to step in and dance with you.  I've been in squares that had 7 girls and one guy who was having the time of his life.)  I loved the math of it - the patterns and the rhythm, all being brought together by a roomful of grinning humanity.  I even loved the music - this was 80s country, back before "shake your money-maker" was an acceptable mating call.  But... my body found a way to screw it up for me.  Every evening, I'd start out the night looking good, looking sharp - and end up a dripping mess.  Every single sweat gland would go into overdrive, to the point where I could have been used to cure the California drought.  Do you know how hard it is to allemande left when the guy you're reaching out to slips off your arm into the next square from the sheer level of perspiration?

Then there's food.  I love food - all kinds, all textures, all flavors.  I enjoyed exploring different cuisines, finding new spots...  and then came Diabetes.  I'm not talking your basic pre-Diabetes.  I'm talking having to stab sharp needles into my stomach before every meal - ok, let's be honest.  The needles aren't the worst.  The worst is having to stick that damned poke-demon into my finger to figure out just how out of whack I am *before* I can stick the needle in.  Yes, I still love food - but the delight in a good meal gets taken down several notches when you have to precisely titrate that meal to avoid going a coma.

Hell, my body has even been trying lately to take reading away from me, with various bones in my hands stiffening up or freezing over or just twinging intermittently just to make it hard to hold a book (or a Kindle.)  But I've got its number now...  I know what my body is doing and I'm going to stop letting it get away with this nonsense.