I always say, "It takes one phone call or one email to change everything." And that's true. Of course, waiting for that call or email can be utter torture. And these days, with our PDAs, we carry the rejection around with us. We know the phone hasn't rung. We see the emails are just spam. But, sometimes when you aren't looking and you are too distracted to hear the chime, what you were waiting for finally arrives.
I got an email which lead to a phone call which lead to a meeting which lead to a job. Just in time. It seems my ass avoided disaster. And thank the Lord for that. Actually, I think it was my friends who were praying, and hard. Especially the ones who offered me their extra room, if push really came to packing up my apartment.
The past three-and-a-half months were brutal, but they were also a blessing. I've said this here a number of times, but I truly have the best friends imaginable. The minute everything went pear-shaped, they rallied. They were there. And I was lucky to have them give so much support.
This time was a gift, too. Sure, it was scary. But it also gave me time to look at how I really want to live my life, and then live it that way (except for the higher level of stress and lack of funds). Well, I didn't write the way I wanted to. It was hard to focus on that the way I would have liked, but new stories were started. A new endeavor was launched in Project Elegance. A new pace of life was taken. I bit more slow, a tad more graceful.
This email that lead to a call that lead to an interview that got me the job came just in the nick of time. It saved me from having to make some pretty hard decisions. And my friends from getting a new roommate. Sometimes, it's hard to believe that something good will happen, but I suggest you believe. Really believe it. Because you never know when your miracle will arrive.
RUAWAKE...a wake-up call column of questions, answers, celebrations, fascinations and philosophications.
Showing posts with label celebrations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label celebrations. Show all posts
21 July 2009
27 May 2009
Cancer Is Fattening
There's just no way around it: Cancer is fattening. Or chemo is. Well, mostly spending a week with a friend going through chemo and trying to keep her weight up is thigh-widening. Fabulous, but fattening nonetheless.
It's really not Joy's fault. I mean, she didn't force me to eat the (organic) cookies or the soy/flax chips (with guacamole) or the shrimp burrito or to choose pasta for every dinner...but the one that involved fish and chips. At least she and I split that. It's not her fault I couldn't say no. No. But it's not like it was a level playing field. She gets the bonus of having a tiny appetite (chemo bonus?). I have the appetite of an Olympic athlete. If only I trained like one. Which is the other problem: Chemo and cardio don't really go together. Throw in a shot of Neulasta (to help her build T-cells) and you have bone pain on top of fatigue. So, a few laps around the block weren't really going to happen. Not like I couldn't go on a walk by myself. But that's so not the point. The point was to spend quality time with my friend going through the cure. And so I stayed by her side...and went toe to toe as we snacked my butt into oblivion.
Laughter might well be the best medicine, but it is total crap at burning calories. Seriously. Because we laughed a lot. A lot a lot. Not even Percocet could dull Joy's sharp wit. We were doubled over, catching our breath. And that requires a good deal of ab work. Shoulders, too. But I saw no results, other than laugh lines.
You would think that waking up at seven each day to help with Laddy's breakfast and make his lunch would help burn some calories, too. Nope. But I suppose I didn't have to eat the cut off crusts on top of my toast. Not literally on top. You know what I mean. The way-too-basically-simply idea of putting them into the trash didn't sit well with me. Thanks, mom, for tattooing all those starving kids in China onto my brain. Food guilt is child abuse, people. Piggyback rides and park playing aren't calorie busting either, FYI. But, it is fun.
My dieting discipline was something I seemed to forget to pack. Breakfast consisted of carbs. Lunch consisted of carbs. Dinner consisted of carbs. Dessert, well, that was chocolate, and that is God's gift to us. But it's full of carbs. And a bit of fat, too. That's not to say we didn't eat healthy. We did. But Joy can't have too much fruits or vegetables because her digestion is a bit sensitive. Sure, I could have gone to the store and bought some, whipped them up on my own. As a matter of fact, I did go to the store. A few times. And I made dinner every night. But that extra effort of chopping and washing and steaming...what was the point? I was only going to be there a week. We all deserve a little break, right?
Justifications must be full of carbs and calories, too, because when I got on the scale after returning home, I found four (FOUR!) extra pounds. Feck. Okay, I've already lost two, but I'm grounded until the rest are off. No more cookies or chips, and chocolate is to be used for medicinal PMS purposes only...and only in moderation. Control, people. It's a choice.
In spite of the pounds, I wouldn't trade an ounce for a moment with Joy, her hubster or adorable son. And let me tell you about how great my friend is:
A week after what we hope is her last chemo treatment, her hair is starting to grow back. You heard me. This after two IP chemo treatments as well. This coming from a woman who was moved to Stage IV. By the way, once they mark you at a stage level, they don't downgrade you. Sure, we know the statistics of ovarian you-know-what (that's the only C word I truly hate), but Joy is the fluke. Statistically, she shouldn't have gotten it. So, screw statistics. She is already thriving. She's one of the healthiest people I know. And I'm looking forward to the days when we are old ladies, doubling over laughing and wetting our Depends.
It's really not Joy's fault. I mean, she didn't force me to eat the (organic) cookies or the soy/flax chips (with guacamole) or the shrimp burrito or to choose pasta for every dinner...but the one that involved fish and chips. At least she and I split that. It's not her fault I couldn't say no. No. But it's not like it was a level playing field. She gets the bonus of having a tiny appetite (chemo bonus?). I have the appetite of an Olympic athlete. If only I trained like one. Which is the other problem: Chemo and cardio don't really go together. Throw in a shot of Neulasta (to help her build T-cells) and you have bone pain on top of fatigue. So, a few laps around the block weren't really going to happen. Not like I couldn't go on a walk by myself. But that's so not the point. The point was to spend quality time with my friend going through the cure. And so I stayed by her side...and went toe to toe as we snacked my butt into oblivion.
Laughter might well be the best medicine, but it is total crap at burning calories. Seriously. Because we laughed a lot. A lot a lot. Not even Percocet could dull Joy's sharp wit. We were doubled over, catching our breath. And that requires a good deal of ab work. Shoulders, too. But I saw no results, other than laugh lines.
You would think that waking up at seven each day to help with Laddy's breakfast and make his lunch would help burn some calories, too. Nope. But I suppose I didn't have to eat the cut off crusts on top of my toast. Not literally on top. You know what I mean. The way-too-basically-simply idea of putting them into the trash didn't sit well with me. Thanks, mom, for tattooing all those starving kids in China onto my brain. Food guilt is child abuse, people. Piggyback rides and park playing aren't calorie busting either, FYI. But, it is fun.
My dieting discipline was something I seemed to forget to pack. Breakfast consisted of carbs. Lunch consisted of carbs. Dinner consisted of carbs. Dessert, well, that was chocolate, and that is God's gift to us. But it's full of carbs. And a bit of fat, too. That's not to say we didn't eat healthy. We did. But Joy can't have too much fruits or vegetables because her digestion is a bit sensitive. Sure, I could have gone to the store and bought some, whipped them up on my own. As a matter of fact, I did go to the store. A few times. And I made dinner every night. But that extra effort of chopping and washing and steaming...what was the point? I was only going to be there a week. We all deserve a little break, right?
Justifications must be full of carbs and calories, too, because when I got on the scale after returning home, I found four (FOUR!) extra pounds. Feck. Okay, I've already lost two, but I'm grounded until the rest are off. No more cookies or chips, and chocolate is to be used for medicinal PMS purposes only...and only in moderation. Control, people. It's a choice.
In spite of the pounds, I wouldn't trade an ounce for a moment with Joy, her hubster or adorable son. And let me tell you about how great my friend is:
A week after what we hope is her last chemo treatment, her hair is starting to grow back. You heard me. This after two IP chemo treatments as well. This coming from a woman who was moved to Stage IV. By the way, once they mark you at a stage level, they don't downgrade you. Sure, we know the statistics of ovarian you-know-what (that's the only C word I truly hate), but Joy is the fluke. Statistically, she shouldn't have gotten it. So, screw statistics. She is already thriving. She's one of the healthiest people I know. And I'm looking forward to the days when we are old ladies, doubling over laughing and wetting our Depends.
20 January 2009
Wow
Wow. All I can say is, Wow! When have we ever seen anything like this? When have we ever felt such a swell of change and joy and optimism?
This is just the start. This is only the beginning. It's bright and shiny and new and mesmerizing. It is what we hoped for and worked for, prayed and begged for. It's a chance to hold our heads high -- proudly, again -- as Americans. Yes. We can.
We are still at war. Our economy is still in turmoil. This day does not change those realities. This day does not hide the work to be done...by all of us. This is just a start. But what a brilliant start.
I feel it in my core. In my heart of hearts. This is the beginning. The opportunity. The chance to live as we want. In a positive light. In a realness we haven't had in as far back as I can recall. With honor and respect, responsibility and ownership. We no longer need the smoke and mirrors of the past. Greed is not good. Debt will drag you down. Our environment cannot be ignored. It is time to innovate, change our outlook, our perspectives, our drives. We can change everything now. We've already started that process. Look at that man, the one we have as our leader and know that anything is possible. Like it or not.
Yes. We can. We can do anything. So, what do we really want to do? To have? I want more of this Wow to continue. For us to feel connected and strong. To be a country of community and fellowship and pride. To like each other. To come together. To know a time when things are easy because we aren't fighting for what we want. There's no need to fight or struggle when we work together. And there is much work ahead, work for us to do together.
I am ready, willing and able to do what I can to make this change permanent. To keep this Wow on tap. To remember this day always as the day we turned a heavy, leaden page to one that was crisp and clean and new. This is just the beginning. It's only the start. And I look forward to moving ahead and saying Wow often.
This is just the start. This is only the beginning. It's bright and shiny and new and mesmerizing. It is what we hoped for and worked for, prayed and begged for. It's a chance to hold our heads high -- proudly, again -- as Americans. Yes. We can.
We are still at war. Our economy is still in turmoil. This day does not change those realities. This day does not hide the work to be done...by all of us. This is just a start. But what a brilliant start.
I feel it in my core. In my heart of hearts. This is the beginning. The opportunity. The chance to live as we want. In a positive light. In a realness we haven't had in as far back as I can recall. With honor and respect, responsibility and ownership. We no longer need the smoke and mirrors of the past. Greed is not good. Debt will drag you down. Our environment cannot be ignored. It is time to innovate, change our outlook, our perspectives, our drives. We can change everything now. We've already started that process. Look at that man, the one we have as our leader and know that anything is possible. Like it or not.
Yes. We can. We can do anything. So, what do we really want to do? To have? I want more of this Wow to continue. For us to feel connected and strong. To be a country of community and fellowship and pride. To like each other. To come together. To know a time when things are easy because we aren't fighting for what we want. There's no need to fight or struggle when we work together. And there is much work ahead, work for us to do together.
I am ready, willing and able to do what I can to make this change permanent. To keep this Wow on tap. To remember this day always as the day we turned a heavy, leaden page to one that was crisp and clean and new. This is just the beginning. It's only the start. And I look forward to moving ahead and saying Wow often.
14 January 2009
A Fabulous Fortnight
This year is only two weeks old and I am so in love with it, I could lick it. And, yes, I type that tentatively because I know that so many people are having a tough time. Two wars and a rotten economy are affecting us all. Friends of mine are dealing with job losses, major health crises, even deaths of their most cherished. I can't hug them enough, even if that embrace can only come through an email. I blame 2008, though. 2008 was rough. I think we are all breathing a collective sigh of relief that 2009 is here. Or maybe it's just me.
Let me share with you, before you think me too glib, that I only know for sure I have a job through next month. I'm hoping it will be extended a bit longer, but there is an air of the unknown going on in my life, too. Everything is in flux. The Jello of my life is still a thick, unset liquid. Nothing is yet concrete. But, that has not has not diminished the shine this year has brought me.
What has this year delivered in such a short time? Contentment. I know. You just threw up in your mouth a little, right? I could hear your groans from here. But, for an A-type Aries personality, contentment is HUGE. I have only flipped off a stupid driver twice this year. I know. Pick your jaw up off the floor. Granted, now that I'm not commuting to the outer reaches of Malibu, I hardly drive. But still. The streets are littered with crap drivers. The short little drive to the gym could bring on Carpel Tunnel. But the middle-finger reflex is no longer automatic.
The last nine years have been *challenging* for me to say the least. Going freelance right before the economy dipped the first time and the internet imploded probably wasn't the best timing. I've been digging myself out of that crater since I made that move. Being utterly stubborn (and allergic to office air), I sort of refused to give up on the life I wanted. Which is one of independence. Many friends suffered along the way with me. Understandably, they grew a little weary of hearing me say, "Sorry, I can't afford it," or kindly picking up the tab. Believe me, I didn't enjoy it. There is a deep level of humiliation in having a friend subsidize your bar tab. You know you are low when you get a Trader Joe's gift card in a "Thinking of You" card (which was so perfectly timed, I cried). Finally, though, there is a shift. Not necessarily a material one, but one of perspective and actually seeing the opportunities in front of me. Yes, there remains some instability and unknowns in my world. But this is the year.
This is the year for all of us. Don't you feel it, too? Even my friend who is going through chemo and all the *fun* that brings is loving 2009. There's just something in the air. And, even though it is only two weeks old, this is already the best year of my life.
Yes, I hear the groans. Apologies for inducing your gag reflexes. Deal with it. I'm happy. I hope you are, too.
Let me share with you, before you think me too glib, that I only know for sure I have a job through next month. I'm hoping it will be extended a bit longer, but there is an air of the unknown going on in my life, too. Everything is in flux. The Jello of my life is still a thick, unset liquid. Nothing is yet concrete. But, that has not has not diminished the shine this year has brought me.
What has this year delivered in such a short time? Contentment. I know. You just threw up in your mouth a little, right? I could hear your groans from here. But, for an A-type Aries personality, contentment is HUGE. I have only flipped off a stupid driver twice this year. I know. Pick your jaw up off the floor. Granted, now that I'm not commuting to the outer reaches of Malibu, I hardly drive. But still. The streets are littered with crap drivers. The short little drive to the gym could bring on Carpel Tunnel. But the middle-finger reflex is no longer automatic.
The last nine years have been *challenging* for me to say the least. Going freelance right before the economy dipped the first time and the internet imploded probably wasn't the best timing. I've been digging myself out of that crater since I made that move. Being utterly stubborn (and allergic to office air), I sort of refused to give up on the life I wanted. Which is one of independence. Many friends suffered along the way with me. Understandably, they grew a little weary of hearing me say, "Sorry, I can't afford it," or kindly picking up the tab. Believe me, I didn't enjoy it. There is a deep level of humiliation in having a friend subsidize your bar tab. You know you are low when you get a Trader Joe's gift card in a "Thinking of You" card (which was so perfectly timed, I cried). Finally, though, there is a shift. Not necessarily a material one, but one of perspective and actually seeing the opportunities in front of me. Yes, there remains some instability and unknowns in my world. But this is the year.
This is the year for all of us. Don't you feel it, too? Even my friend who is going through chemo and all the *fun* that brings is loving 2009. There's just something in the air. And, even though it is only two weeks old, this is already the best year of my life.
Yes, I hear the groans. Apologies for inducing your gag reflexes. Deal with it. I'm happy. I hope you are, too.
08 January 2009
Crazy 8
Eight years ago, on January 8th, I started this blog. I didn't call it a blog then, because nobody did. I wrote "columns". Because I didn't know what else to call them.
Back then, I has a fabulous, multi-page website -- replete with a rotating coffee mug -- built by a very generous friend. I loved that website. I kind of miss it (but Blogger is so much easier to deal with than HTML, especially at two ayem). I had loftier aspirations for RUAWAKE in the beginning. But I had two jobs and...well, this happened instead.
January 8th was no accident, though. I chose to launch on that date because: (1) I thought everyone would be too hungover to read on January 1st, and (2) the 8th is David Bowie's birthday. I'm a fan of the man and thought it would put good mojo on this little endeavor. After all, he didn't do too bad for himself. (Yes, I realize this is Elvis' birthday, too; I just prefer David's awesome sauce.) But...well, this happened instead.
I've written over 500 posts now. I know. I should be really super fricken good at what I do by now, right? There's been so little improvement because I always do it at the last minute. I'm a night writer. And I work best under deadline pressure. Not that this stuff is my "best". It's more like "done", which is, of course, the next best thing.
There's nothing more boring than a blog about blogging. And you would think that I would have come up with something a bit more *dazzling* for this mini milestone. But, it turns out that I didn't have to go for the gold because bronze is the appropriate gift for the eighth anniversary. See, it all works out. But, what I really wanted to say is, Thank you! Cheers for coming by and reading my rants, leaving comments and sending me emails. I adore the friendships I've forged within the blogosphere. What an amazing (if not crazy) community of very kind, funny and talented folks. Thank you for making these past 8 years much more interesting. I hope you'll continue to stop by. I think I just might be getting the hang of this now.
xo
Back then, I has a fabulous, multi-page website -- replete with a rotating coffee mug -- built by a very generous friend. I loved that website. I kind of miss it (but Blogger is so much easier to deal with than HTML, especially at two ayem). I had loftier aspirations for RUAWAKE in the beginning. But I had two jobs and...well, this happened instead.
January 8th was no accident, though. I chose to launch on that date because: (1) I thought everyone would be too hungover to read on January 1st, and (2) the 8th is David Bowie's birthday. I'm a fan of the man and thought it would put good mojo on this little endeavor. After all, he didn't do too bad for himself. (Yes, I realize this is Elvis' birthday, too; I just prefer David's awesome sauce.) But...well, this happened instead.
I've written over 500 posts now. I know. I should be really super fricken good at what I do by now, right? There's been so little improvement because I always do it at the last minute. I'm a night writer. And I work best under deadline pressure. Not that this stuff is my "best". It's more like "done", which is, of course, the next best thing.
There's nothing more boring than a blog about blogging. And you would think that I would have come up with something a bit more *dazzling* for this mini milestone. But, it turns out that I didn't have to go for the gold because bronze is the appropriate gift for the eighth anniversary. See, it all works out. But, what I really wanted to say is, Thank you! Cheers for coming by and reading my rants, leaving comments and sending me emails. I adore the friendships I've forged within the blogosphere. What an amazing (if not crazy) community of very kind, funny and talented folks. Thank you for making these past 8 years much more interesting. I hope you'll continue to stop by. I think I just might be getting the hang of this now.
xo
05 November 2008
[Insert Great Big Happy Face Here!]
I couldn't be happier than if I woke up in the arms of the Clooney. We have a new President. And I feel so good about it. It's time to mend the fences. Heal the wounds. Restore our standing in the world. Yes, we can. And we did.
This is an amazing time. A renaissance even. We have such an opportunity now. Can we move up the swearing in? Transplant the shrub from DC back to Texas ASAP? We've got a lot of work to do. And it can't wait for January to start.
I have long said that we would have a black man in the White House before we would have a white woman. (Apologies for the un-PC phraseology. Bear with me.) I said it to illustrate that, no matter how racist our county might be, we are patriarchal over all. (Bear with me a minute further.) I never would have guessed we'd have the unique situation of having both a man of color -- bi-racial, in fact, which is so poetic -- and a female Caucasian vying for the candidacy in the same primary for the same party. For Feminists (I intentionally capitalize), it was interesting to watch. While the natural inclination might have been to vote for the lady, it was the gentleman who showed us the most hope, the most change, the greater opportunity. I backed Barack from the beginning, in spite of the twinge of gender betrayal. For me, it was the right choice. See, I believe he was born in a manger...or a reasonably facsimile thereof. I saw "That One" as the right one. I look forward to the day we get to figure out what to call the husband of Madame President, but it looks like we'll have to wait eight more years to find out. And I'm okay with that. Our time will come. We know all change is possible now.
I sit here fighting back the tears as I write this (and those who know me know I'm not easily teary). I am so happy, so proud, so grateful that the election was won by Obama. It is a beautiful moment. Beyond color or gender, we have a unique individual who can lead us in a new way. And thank God for that. I feel like I can again travel the world with my head held high...if only I could afford an international ticket, let alone the exchange rate. But we will get to that soon enough.
Not only did we have a wonderful man of color in this campaign, we had not one, but two women running as well. While one was questionably qualified (which further split the Feminist divide), there is no way to downplay the significance of this election. As my darling friend, JWC, noted, it's hard to believe that this is the same country that voted in the shrub...twice (though, I still dispute the 2000 election completely). What a change indeed.
This wasn't just a win, it was a victory. So much so, there is only a tiny part of me that wants to gloat and rub it in a few faces. But, I won't. The time for that is done. It is time to heal. To mend. To rebuild and overcome. But, if you aren't ready to celebrate that, then perhaps you should go off into a corner and suck it!
I mean that with love.
This is an amazing time. A renaissance even. We have such an opportunity now. Can we move up the swearing in? Transplant the shrub from DC back to Texas ASAP? We've got a lot of work to do. And it can't wait for January to start.
I have long said that we would have a black man in the White House before we would have a white woman. (Apologies for the un-PC phraseology. Bear with me.) I said it to illustrate that, no matter how racist our county might be, we are patriarchal over all. (Bear with me a minute further.) I never would have guessed we'd have the unique situation of having both a man of color -- bi-racial, in fact, which is so poetic -- and a female Caucasian vying for the candidacy in the same primary for the same party. For Feminists (I intentionally capitalize), it was interesting to watch. While the natural inclination might have been to vote for the lady, it was the gentleman who showed us the most hope, the most change, the greater opportunity. I backed Barack from the beginning, in spite of the twinge of gender betrayal. For me, it was the right choice. See, I believe he was born in a manger...or a reasonably facsimile thereof. I saw "That One" as the right one. I look forward to the day we get to figure out what to call the husband of Madame President, but it looks like we'll have to wait eight more years to find out. And I'm okay with that. Our time will come. We know all change is possible now.
I sit here fighting back the tears as I write this (and those who know me know I'm not easily teary). I am so happy, so proud, so grateful that the election was won by Obama. It is a beautiful moment. Beyond color or gender, we have a unique individual who can lead us in a new way. And thank God for that. I feel like I can again travel the world with my head held high...if only I could afford an international ticket, let alone the exchange rate. But we will get to that soon enough.
Not only did we have a wonderful man of color in this campaign, we had not one, but two women running as well. While one was questionably qualified (which further split the Feminist divide), there is no way to downplay the significance of this election. As my darling friend, JWC, noted, it's hard to believe that this is the same country that voted in the shrub...twice (though, I still dispute the 2000 election completely). What a change indeed.
This wasn't just a win, it was a victory. So much so, there is only a tiny part of me that wants to gloat and rub it in a few faces. But, I won't. The time for that is done. It is time to heal. To mend. To rebuild and overcome. But, if you aren't ready to celebrate that, then perhaps you should go off into a corner and suck it!
I mean that with love.
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