Max just informed me that he needs to wear pink tomorrow and bring at least five pennies to school tomorrow to help fight "breath cancer."
I hate breath cancer. I hope I never get it.
In other cancer-y news, I get to accompany Alyssa to her last chemo treatment tomorrow. (Hooray! Hooray!) I made cookies to help celebrate with her chemo friends and nurses. I packed them in a Brookstone bag I had from last Christmas. I hope the bag won't cause any confusion for anybody. I don't want them trying to use the cookies for an ergonomic neck pillow or to try plugging their iPods into them.
It's just a bag, people.
Anyway, tomorrow, whatever you're doing, I hope you find time to think about those fighting the good fight against cancer. Breast, breath, and otherwise.
Showing posts with label alyssa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alyssa. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
What I Done Did
First I got on a train. I sat behind a group of judges who'd been in Philadelphia for a conference and were on their way home to New Haven. They were playing Words with Friends on one of their iPads and complaining about the computer's lack of respect for them and some of their words. They joked and giggled and gossiped and acted generally immature together. Judges gone wild.
Next, I got off the train in New York City. You know you're in New York City because of the smell of fresh urine and pretzels. Mmmm. I met up with my sister-in-law Betsy and niece Sydney. You know you're with Betsy and Sydney because of the fresh smell of shopping bags. Aren't they cute?
Later, I sat in their hotel room and asked them to share all their shopping finds with me and, oh, what a parade! Ladies and gentlemen, the economy has officially been stimulated. I lived vicariously, delighting in the gorgeous fabrics and frugal finds. I may or may not have coveted a poncho and lusted after it in my heart.
The next morning, I arose bright and early and donned my walking shoes. I made like a pioneer and walked and walked and walked all day. First, I walked to Alyssa's apartment. Look how cute my baldy friend is! We're calling her new look chemo-chic. My look is slept-on-the-floor-frazzled. But I think it works.
Next, I got off the train in New York City. You know you're in New York City because of the smell of fresh urine and pretzels. Mmmm. I met up with my sister-in-law Betsy and niece Sydney. You know you're with Betsy and Sydney because of the fresh smell of shopping bags. Aren't they cute?
We ventured to Brooklyn and stood in line for the best pizza on earth. It only took an hour to wait for the best pizza on earth, which is reasonable, I think. Especially on a beautiful fall day.
Later, I sat in their hotel room and asked them to share all their shopping finds with me and, oh, what a parade! Ladies and gentlemen, the economy has officially been stimulated. I lived vicariously, delighting in the gorgeous fabrics and frugal finds. I may or may not have coveted a poncho and lusted after it in my heart.
The next morning, I arose bright and early and donned my walking shoes. I made like a pioneer and walked and walked and walked all day. First, I walked to Alyssa's apartment. Look how cute my baldy friend is! We're calling her new look chemo-chic. My look is slept-on-the-floor-frazzled. But I think it works.
The color theme of the day was pink. We joined a sea of pink at Central Park for the Race for the Cure. I'll be honest, mine was more of a walk for the cure, but I know the cure won't mind.
After the race, we had lunch with some of Alyssa's friends (such nice people, by the way) and then Alyssa and I spent some much-needed sofa time together at her apartment, laughing, talking, and occasionally crying. Eventually it was time for me to catch my train, so I walked and walked to the station. They oversold my train, but I pushed my way through before I could get bumped to the next one. I was ready to get home to my house full of boys. And also my bathtub.
The next day, I got to have dinner with my brother John who is in Philadelphia for some meetings this week. Lucky for us, it's Restaurant Week in Philly, so we took him out for swanky Mexican food. (Did you know Mexican food can be swanky?) We ate ourselves silly. We ate so much, my hair lost all its volume and pizazz.
I crashed in bed last night. I slept like a corpse. When the alarm clock went off this morning, it was a foreign and disturbing noise. I must have been dreaming that I was a wealthy aristocrat, able to sleep to my heart's content and never bothered by such annoyances as alarm clocks. I love that dream. I finally awoke, firing the butler, and crawled back into my everyday life.
Everyday life today included more walking, some writing, some emailing, some errands, and the creation of the first butternut squash soup of the season. It's roasting in the oven now, bathing in Thai spices and coconut water. I will patiently wait.
And that's what I done did. I wonder what I will done do next.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Sharing
I think I will look back on this period of my life as The Time People Felt Bad For Me Because of How Badly I Felt For Other People. And I think that my lack of writing very much has to do with the fact that a lot of the stuff I have been feeling bad about is not really mine to write about, but I also think I've been playing editor with this quirky online history of me. You know, if I don't write about it, it didn't happen!
And in 2278, when my online works are being studied by college students in space, they will write term papers hypothesizing the lack of content in late 2010 and early 2011 on this blog. Most of them will attribute this to there being a constant stream of the Real Housewives of Anywhere on TV. And they would only be partially wrong. (I'm two tablespoons deeper than that.)
So, I am going to tell you something sad that I have been feeling bad about.
I got a text from my friend Alyssa last week, telling me she had some heavy news and would rather tell me on the phone than by text or email. My stomach dropped a little. In the 45 seconds it took between that text and us talking on the phone, I considered a couple of possibilities. Maybe she lost her job? Maybe her dad is sick?
I never in a million years would have predicted that my healthy, active, globe-trotting, smart and sassy friend would tell me that she has breast cancer. She's thirty-five.
And then I said something supremely stupid: "Are you kidding me?" What, because people are always pranking each other with cancer scares? Duh. I immediately wanted to rewind and say something more appropriate, like, "Oh shit." (Which is a special word I save for such occasions.)
And then, in the course of our 30-minute conversation, she explained in calm collectedness how all of this began (with a lump found by her doctor), what she knew about her prognosis, what her plans were regarding treatment, how she'd spent the days between the biopsy and results reading and not-sleeping and gearing herself up for the monumental fight she knew-but-didn't-know was coming. As if to balance out her calm collectedness, I spent the half-hour with tears streaming down my face, choking on the news.
I invited her to come and stay with us for the weekend, and in the only act of emotionally-impaired decision-making I've witnessed thus far, she agreed to come.
I tried to pull my crap together before she arrived and did okay. We had a really nice weekend, one I'll remember forever. I'll especially remember how I've never seen anybody cope with bad news with such a level head and sense of humor. Even if she falls apart later on and becomes a slobbering, whining fool, she will always have five trillion bonus points for the grace and composure she is exhibiting in the moment. (And I'm keeping score, Cancer!) In fact, on that subject, our household psychologist Ryan made a point to tell her that she's been amazing to be around, but that we still want to be around when she's not so amazing. Amen to that.
We sent her home on the train and into the arms of appointments, doctors, consultations, and other scary realities waiting for her this week. In an act of courageous proactivity, she had her hair cut short (anticipating the chemo) and ended up with the sauciest hairdo I've seen in some time. Best cancer makeover ever. Of course, she sent her long, dark hair to Locks of Love. (Is she secretly trying to become the Oprah finale, I wonder? Will the tear-jerking amazing-ness never end?)
Alyssa said something interesting to me while she was here. As she has shared her news with other people, the burden of it felt lighter, she said. I've always known that in theory, but it was amazing to see it happen with my own eyes. The sharing of burdens really does make them possible to carry.
Guess who needs to learn that lesson? Yup, that's me looking sheepish.
So, I'm writing this here. I'm telling you that I'm feeling bad. Sad, but hopeful. Sad for my friend and for many of my loved ones fighting scary fights and unknown outcomes. But, yes, hopeful. Because I can't help it. People are amazing. I should know, I'm surrounded by them. And that includes you.
And in 2278, when my online works are being studied by college students in space, they will write term papers hypothesizing the lack of content in late 2010 and early 2011 on this blog. Most of them will attribute this to there being a constant stream of the Real Housewives of Anywhere on TV. And they would only be partially wrong. (I'm two tablespoons deeper than that.)
So, I am going to tell you something sad that I have been feeling bad about.
I got a text from my friend Alyssa last week, telling me she had some heavy news and would rather tell me on the phone than by text or email. My stomach dropped a little. In the 45 seconds it took between that text and us talking on the phone, I considered a couple of possibilities. Maybe she lost her job? Maybe her dad is sick?
I never in a million years would have predicted that my healthy, active, globe-trotting, smart and sassy friend would tell me that she has breast cancer. She's thirty-five.
And then I said something supremely stupid: "Are you kidding me?" What, because people are always pranking each other with cancer scares? Duh. I immediately wanted to rewind and say something more appropriate, like, "Oh shit." (Which is a special word I save for such occasions.)
And then, in the course of our 30-minute conversation, she explained in calm collectedness how all of this began (with a lump found by her doctor), what she knew about her prognosis, what her plans were regarding treatment, how she'd spent the days between the biopsy and results reading and not-sleeping and gearing herself up for the monumental fight she knew-but-didn't-know was coming. As if to balance out her calm collectedness, I spent the half-hour with tears streaming down my face, choking on the news.
I invited her to come and stay with us for the weekend, and in the only act of emotionally-impaired decision-making I've witnessed thus far, she agreed to come.
I tried to pull my crap together before she arrived and did okay. We had a really nice weekend, one I'll remember forever. I'll especially remember how I've never seen anybody cope with bad news with such a level head and sense of humor. Even if she falls apart later on and becomes a slobbering, whining fool, she will always have five trillion bonus points for the grace and composure she is exhibiting in the moment. (And I'm keeping score, Cancer!) In fact, on that subject, our household psychologist Ryan made a point to tell her that she's been amazing to be around, but that we still want to be around when she's not so amazing. Amen to that.
We sent her home on the train and into the arms of appointments, doctors, consultations, and other scary realities waiting for her this week. In an act of courageous proactivity, she had her hair cut short (anticipating the chemo) and ended up with the sauciest hairdo I've seen in some time. Best cancer makeover ever. Of course, she sent her long, dark hair to Locks of Love. (Is she secretly trying to become the Oprah finale, I wonder? Will the tear-jerking amazing-ness never end?)
Alyssa said something interesting to me while she was here. As she has shared her news with other people, the burden of it felt lighter, she said. I've always known that in theory, but it was amazing to see it happen with my own eyes. The sharing of burdens really does make them possible to carry.
Guess who needs to learn that lesson? Yup, that's me looking sheepish.
So, I'm writing this here. I'm telling you that I'm feeling bad. Sad, but hopeful. Sad for my friend and for many of my loved ones fighting scary fights and unknown outcomes. But, yes, hopeful. Because I can't help it. People are amazing. I should know, I'm surrounded by them. And that includes you.
(You could and should keep up with Alyssa's story. She's making a triumphant return to blogging.)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
My Weekend in (Mental) Pictures
We spent the weekend in New York with Alyssa, schlepping around the city in search of our next good meal or snack and enjoying the company. The day before we left, I purchased a new handbag---a smaller, strap-across-the-chest, hands-free bag. Whenever I carry my regular bag, I become the family pack mule and my ample bag digs into my shoulder by the end of the day. I celebrated my independence with a bag too small to hold much more than my wallet, phone, and lip gloss.
And, unfortunately, too small for my camera. Oops.
You'll have to imagine all the fabulous sights, okay? And while you're at it, imagine that I lost 23 pounds and grew six inches taller. This is going to work out swell.
Look at us on the speed boat, out in the harbor, the wind in our hair. See the kids getting soaked by the spray? Max's shorts were wet for an hour, and all the adults were jealous.
That's us in Puma City, the World Cup party headquarters sponsored by Puma. The boys have been caught up in the World Cup, so we couldn't resist getting some team t-shirts (Brazil and Ivory Coast) with free customization. Plus, we got free vuvuzelas with our purchase! Even though we can't remember the word vuvuzela and substitute it for Vesuvius and Venezuela and Voldemort the entire trip.
Speaking of the Vesuvius, can you see the look of suprise/delight/annoyance on the faces of passersby as my boys trumpet around the city? We startled one homeboy on his way out of the subway terminal. He shouted, "What the fudgesicle is that?" (We may as well substitute other words, don't you think?) When he realized it was Max and his Vesuvius, he bashfully said, "Oh! It's all right, little man." Thanks, homeboy.
Oh, here's a good photo. We're walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. Christian kept looking down through the wooden slats to the water below, even though it freaked him out. He said it was addicting. By the end of the walk, he had Alyssa addicted too.
After standing in line in Brooklyn (doesn't that sound like the title of a good song?), we were seated for pizza at Grimaldi's. We ordered two large pizzas, even though it was going to be way too much food. Or was it? It looks like we ate all but one piece. See how bloated and ecstatic we look?
After a subway ride back and a movie, we settled in for a good night's sleep in Alyssa's new apartment. Isn't it nice? It looks like the new and improved version of her old one, which is awesome and confusing at the same time. It's like her old apartment had a little augmentation done, if you know what I mean.
Sunday was much more low-key. There we are strolling the city, visiting the Intrepid museum, staking out a spot for fireworks on Alyssa's rooftop, and cooking a picnic dinner. I deleted the (imaginary) photos of the mayhem that began on the roof, when too many people wanted in and the security guard was threatening to send everyone to Time Out if they didn't start playing nice. No sense remembering that ugly scene.
We ditched the roof and carried our picnic down 57th street until we found this lovely piece of hot, New York concrete. We laid out our blankets and feasted on one of the most delicious summer picnics I've ever had. Doesn't the food look amazing? Steak salad, corn salad, watermelon salad, and potato salad. I had at least three offers to buy our food--it was that gorgeous. Nice job, Alyssa.
Check out these photos of the fireworks. Aren't they spectacular? I like the new ones that look like Saturn, and three dimensional cubes, and smiley faces. But, my heart will always belong to these glittering, white, willowy beauties.
The streets were packed with literally millions of people. It was fun to see these rough-around-the-edges New Yorkers ooohing and ahhhing over the fireworks. Look at them, a sea of heads and little digital cameras and phones.
It was also fun to see this crazy Chinese woman smacking another lady in the head for standing in her way. She is an interesting character---a statue of pure discontent---magically brought to life to whack somebody in the head and utter threats about Chinese fudgesicles. Who does this?
Only in America.
And, unfortunately, too small for my camera. Oops.
You'll have to imagine all the fabulous sights, okay? And while you're at it, imagine that I lost 23 pounds and grew six inches taller. This is going to work out swell.
Look at us on the speed boat, out in the harbor, the wind in our hair. See the kids getting soaked by the spray? Max's shorts were wet for an hour, and all the adults were jealous.
That's us in Puma City, the World Cup party headquarters sponsored by Puma. The boys have been caught up in the World Cup, so we couldn't resist getting some team t-shirts (Brazil and Ivory Coast) with free customization. Plus, we got free vuvuzelas with our purchase! Even though we can't remember the word vuvuzela and substitute it for Vesuvius and Venezuela and Voldemort the entire trip.
Speaking of the Vesuvius, can you see the look of suprise/delight/annoyance on the faces of passersby as my boys trumpet around the city? We startled one homeboy on his way out of the subway terminal. He shouted, "What the fudgesicle is that?" (We may as well substitute other words, don't you think?) When he realized it was Max and his Vesuvius, he bashfully said, "Oh! It's all right, little man." Thanks, homeboy.
Oh, here's a good photo. We're walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. Christian kept looking down through the wooden slats to the water below, even though it freaked him out. He said it was addicting. By the end of the walk, he had Alyssa addicted too.
After standing in line in Brooklyn (doesn't that sound like the title of a good song?), we were seated for pizza at Grimaldi's. We ordered two large pizzas, even though it was going to be way too much food. Or was it? It looks like we ate all but one piece. See how bloated and ecstatic we look?
After a subway ride back and a movie, we settled in for a good night's sleep in Alyssa's new apartment. Isn't it nice? It looks like the new and improved version of her old one, which is awesome and confusing at the same time. It's like her old apartment had a little augmentation done, if you know what I mean.
Sunday was much more low-key. There we are strolling the city, visiting the Intrepid museum, staking out a spot for fireworks on Alyssa's rooftop, and cooking a picnic dinner. I deleted the (imaginary) photos of the mayhem that began on the roof, when too many people wanted in and the security guard was threatening to send everyone to Time Out if they didn't start playing nice. No sense remembering that ugly scene.
We ditched the roof and carried our picnic down 57th street until we found this lovely piece of hot, New York concrete. We laid out our blankets and feasted on one of the most delicious summer picnics I've ever had. Doesn't the food look amazing? Steak salad, corn salad, watermelon salad, and potato salad. I had at least three offers to buy our food--it was that gorgeous. Nice job, Alyssa.
Check out these photos of the fireworks. Aren't they spectacular? I like the new ones that look like Saturn, and three dimensional cubes, and smiley faces. But, my heart will always belong to these glittering, white, willowy beauties.
The streets were packed with literally millions of people. It was fun to see these rough-around-the-edges New Yorkers ooohing and ahhhing over the fireworks. Look at them, a sea of heads and little digital cameras and phones.
It was also fun to see this crazy Chinese woman smacking another lady in the head for standing in her way. She is an interesting character---a statue of pure discontent---magically brought to life to whack somebody in the head and utter threats about Chinese fudgesicles. Who does this?
Only in America.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Hap, Hap, Happy Birthday, Alyssa!
Let's talk about the birthday girl, shall we?
- She's funny
- She's kind
- She's loyal
- She has great taste in music
- She appreciates art
- She bakes
- She cooks
- She goes outside her comfort zone
- She likes high-brow books and low-brow TV
- She cared about the environment before it was cool
- She's up for any adventure
- She works hard and pushes herself to achieve
- She's a good planner
- She's a great house guest
- She's a great hostess
- She's good to talk to at 3:00 a.m.
- She reads a variety of books
- She loves animals
- She loves my kids
- She can be assertive when necessary
- She likes good food
- She plays a wicked game of Wii
- She is generous
- She loves her family
- She is honest
- She is successful
- She makes the best Red Velvet cake on earth
- She is a tomboy at heart
- She has fun ideas
- She is an incredible tour guide
- She walks fast
- She travels to amazing places
- She's a deep thinker
- She's a problem solver
- She's my friend. And I'm so happy to have her.
Happy Birthday, Alyssa!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
