look it up, write it down

Lately, I've been doing a lot of research.  I research all sorts of things.....recipes (for myself....I am a dork who reads cookbooks like novels), chemo treatments/side effects, crochet patterns/ideas, "heart wills" (the memories a terminal patient makes to leave for their family), cancer statistics/studies/info, cars (I want to buy a new one someday), fundraising ideas, survivor stories, Kindles (I'm thinking of getting one), Ron Swanson (I have a problem), quotes....I could go on and on.  A big shout-out to Pinterest here - what a game-changer it is when scouring the Internet!  

A few weeks ago, this research led me to a stage 4 cervical cancer survivor's post.  It has really stuck with me. She wrote, "Don't let the odds speak for you.....someone has to be that 2%, that 5%, that 20%, and it might as well be you."

Do you hear me?  It might as well be YOU, Suzanne.  It WILL be you. You ARE the Outlier.   

corn toasties & a firm, ripe banana

I wish I had better recollection of this one....but a lot of the details are lost to me.  This does not mean I am getting old, thank you.  I blame it all on my thyroid...or lack thereof.  My memory has been crud since I lost that thing! 

Regardless......our senior year of high school, a group of us began going to breakfast before school.  Howard Johnson's was our destination of choice, and I think we went to both the South Glens Falls and Queensbury locations.  Forget coffee, laughter really is the best way to start your day.....and that is mostly what we did at breakfast! 

For certain, I remember myself, Suzanne, and Jenn (Barton) going.....some other faces jumping out at me are Michelle (Nichols), Danielle (LaPrairie),  and Sue (Baldwin).  I could be wrong on all of those, though!  And I am sure I am forgetting people, too - I hate that.  I'm also not sure of how often we went....maybe once a week or once every other week....darn memory! 

We did actually eat at breakfast, along with being silly and obnoxious.  I do believe Jenn is responsible for the "firm, ripe banana" that was often ordered.  Corn toasties were another popular breakfast choice.  My daughter now loves them, and I smile every time she asks for one.

I warned you - this was a fuzzy one, but for some reason it was on my mind today. Us...young and carefree....taking off before school with our friends....to have fun.... rolling into school full of inside jokes and laughter.  Man, the little that is left of the memory sure is wonderful.  I can't stop smiling when I think of it.  The good old days indeed. 

mudslide memories

The summer after our junior year of college, I joined Suzanne working at the Shoreline restaurant in Lake George.  It was my first time working in a restaurant, but Suzanne was a pro.  Thank heavens, or I never could have done it! 
The best part of that summer, other than working with Suzanne, was the mudslides.  At least once a week, we would gather at Suzanne's for mudslides after our shifts.  Mudslide Sundays....Mondays...Tuesdays.....any day would do!  Mmmmm.  Our tools:  a blender, ice, ice-cream, Kahlua, vodka, and milk.  Divine!  Shawn, Sue, and Suzanne were pros - they mixed a mean pitcher of mudslides without even thinking about it. One night early on, they let me mix them.....then promptly forgot that I was A) mixing them and B) had never done it before.  Ice, check.  Ice cream, check.  Kahlua....no one is watching me...okay, that looks good.  Vodka.....no one is watching....should I stop now? No one is watc - "Stop!!!!," shouts Suzanne.  Much laughter ensues as we try to determine if we can still drink them.  Holy intoxication, Batman, those were the strongest mudslides ever!  Stole your breath, put hair on your chest strong.  I can still see Shawn's face when he took the first sip!   I think we may have had to mix them with a second pitcher.  Oops!

The four of us had a lot of fun that summer....the Melissa Etheridge concert may go down in history as our finest moment.  (But that's a story for another time!)  I'm happy to say we are all still friends.....and Shawn and Suzanne are now (legally and officially!) related.

I learned so much that glorious, alcohol-soaked season, but one lesson has really served me well through the years: making a proper mudslide.  Of course, you need the right ingredients, but, most importantly, if you want to drink them:  never, ever let the newbie make the mudslides. 

THAT taxi ride

This story has been told repeatedly over the years, yet it never fails to make us both laugh and, more often than not, attempt a re-enactment. 

Once, when we were young, we lived in New York City (though I believe this was just before Suzanne moved there).  One day, we were in a taxi headed somewhere (bar, I am sure), and our driver was truly a New York special.  Driving was not his forte, that's for sure.  Suzanne and I were talking and laughing in the back seat....young and carefree and looking forward to a good time.  And alcohol.  Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes.

Now, to hear Suzanne tell this story, she saved my life right here. Tossing her own safety aside, her only concern was for mine.  She's my best friend, so it is rude of me to doubt her intent, right?  Right.  Ha!  It was a classic move - she threw her arm across me as the car screeched to a halt, to keep me from hitting my head or falling out of my seat.  Her aim was true. Arm across my chest, her hand ended up.....on my breast.  Holding my breast. Sheer shock, both from the stopped car and the (now named) grope,  gave way to fits of laughter.  We laughed until we cried.   

If I'm not mistaken, this was part of our Breast Groping Weekend Extravaganza. Suzanne was visiting and stayed with me. We shared my bed - staying up talking and laughing at night like a couple of teenagers.  She went to show me something one night, out went her arm, and her hand again found its way to my breast.  "On purpose!,"  I yelled, and we dissolved into hysterical laughter again.

We've gotten a lot of miles out of this incident - both of them, though the taxi is certainly better known. I am laughing now remembering it.  To this day, if someone puts their arm across me in a car, I immediately cover my chest and laugh at the same time.  Some things just stay with you. 

a roll of the dice

Tonight I steal Suzanne's blog inspiration.....because it's Bunco night. 

A few years ago (4? 5?), Suzanne asked me to be a sub for Bunco in her 'hood. My response was, "Bunco?"  To be fair, I had heard of it before - a girl I worked with in Memphis played Bunco.  But I had never heard of it outside the South.  Turns out some of the women in her neighborhood got together once a month to play. I figured, "Why not?"  A night out with Suzanne, new friends, good food, fun, and money - sure thing!  I subbed a few times and got to know some of the women in the 'hood, and it was a great time.  Then there was an opening in the group (it's limited to 12), and I was asked to become a regular.  I accepted.....and the rest is history.

We switch between houses - we rotate hosting  (I host at Suzanne's, as I am one of the few who lives out of the 'hood), everyone brings a snack to share, and we play for cold, hard cash.  Competition is spirited, and often loud (I'm looking at you, Lisa!), and we laugh all night.  Even this night, our first since Suzanne's devestating news, we laughed all night.  Vicki P. brought Suzanne a bag of new socks - so funny and sweet. 

Suzanne wasn't kidding about what a great group this is....it blows me away. Some people have joined and left, we lost one to cancer, another lost her husband to cancer, a former member is now in her second battle with cancer, another member is a cancer survivor (along with me), and tonight we heard a former member wants to come back.  This group is solid - we take care of each other, we care about each other, we have fun together.   When Cora died, this group rallied immediately.....they stayed back at Suzanne and Kelly's during the services to get the food ready and set out, they stored it in their refrigerators, they reheated it in their ovens, they cleaned it all up when it was over.  The Bunco bunch takes care of their own...I guess that's why I feel so at home with them.  Another gift Suzanne has given me - the enduring bond of friendship with not just herself, but these awesome ladies.  I am so happy to be one of them. 

achtung baby!

I am trying to pinpoint the year Suzanne and I went to a BIG concert by ourselves. I am sure a simple google search could do it for me, but I'd rather remember.  I vote the summer after senior year of high school or freshman year of college.  We borrowed her father's car, so it was before we had wheels of our own (could it have been junior year?).  Hmm. Regardless....U2 came to the Saratoga racetrack (way, way, way before the racino), and we went.  U2!!  In Saratoga!!  We were SO excited! 

I had been to a couple of concerts before that...I mostly remember Billy Joel. Billy was a great concert, don't get me wrong, but it is him, his piano, and a tight, back-up band.  He is truly a singer-songwriter, and his shows reflect that.  And I adore them. Now, U2.....U2 is a different story, and this was the year of "Achtung Baby."  "Mysterious Ways." "One."  Bono in his full, flashy Fly-regalia.  This was a SHOW. A spectacle.  An event.  And it was amazing!  

It must have been general admission, because we stood the whole time, in a "field," with a ton of other people.  There were huge screens blowing up what we couldn't see.  Drunk people, lighters, lots of screaming.  What a blast!!  I bought a t-shirt at some point during the show, and discovered that, folded, it fit perfectly in the front Velcro pocket of my windbreaker. When it was time to go, it was a mess getting out of there.  Tons of people headed the same way, pushing, hitting, bumping - just an ugly, crowded, slow-moving mess.  Then genius struck.  If we folded that t-shirt a bit more and stuck it out, that front pocket of my windbreaker turned into....

"Coming through! Coming through! Lady with a baby," Suzanne yelled.  The crowd parted.  We walked through, me clutching my "stomach" every now and again for effect. 

By the time we got to her dad's car (which we had parked in somone's yard for cheap), we were breathless with laughter.  "Lady with a baby!" we would say, and dissolve into fits of laughter.  (This would go on for years, and still give us the giggles every time!)   Our laughter died down a bit upon discovering that some yahoo had ripped one of the windshield wipers off her dad's car.  Gulp. Ripped it off - who does that?  Thankfully, it didn't rain on our way home, and PapaBear took it pretty well.

To this day, "Achtung Baby" remains my favorite U2 album. I know all the songs by heart still. I don't skip a single one when they come on my iPod; in fact, I often blast them and sing loudly.  If I close my eyes, especially during "Zoo Station" or "Mysterious Ways," I am back in that "field" with thousands of other fans, singing loudly with my best friend, screaming,  basking in the bright lights of Bono, Larry, Adam, and the Edge, and clutching that t-shirt.  Our golden ticket out. I still have it. 

the bread dip & the beagle

Once upon a time there was a pooch named Barney.  Barney was Suzanne's family's dog, a beagle.  Barney was SO sweet and cute and stubborn and funny.  Suzanne was often late to high school (so much so that she got a warning note about not passing English, our 1st period class, if she missed any more classes or was late to them!) because Barney would follow her to school.  He would sit outside the side doors at school - so comical!  She would have to turn around and take him back home.

Barney also got lost from time to time. I can still see the "lost dog" ad in the paper for him. Michelle (Nichols) had it taped up on the back of the door in her bedroom....wow, hadn't thought of that in ages! 

If you laid on the floor at Suzanne's, Barney was right with you. Maybe on top of you. He was not shy.  Wonder where he got that from? 

One of my favorite Barney memories involves a sad occasion - the death of Suzanne's grandfather.  I believe we were in college.  I offered to bring something to the house for the family, and I made a spinach dip in the big bread bowl. It was put on a tray and placed outside on the screened in porch.  But then, it was missing.  Where could it have gone?  Mrs. Ely couldn't believe it was gone - we looked all over.  (I know you know where this is going!)

Barney.  He was so large he could barely walk - he waddled.  The dip, bread and all, was in his belly!  Mrs. Ely was horrified.  Suzanne and I could not stop laughing.  Mrs. Ely was upset that he had eaten something I made for them, and I was worried Barney was going to get sick from it.   Barney was fine, thankfully.  Mystery solved. The bonus? It's given us laughs for many years.  Though I really hadn't thought about it in some time - it made me laugh right out loud.  Poor Barney - he was, quite literally, stuffed for days! 

Barney is no longer with us, but I still smile when I think of him - not just for his love, loyalty, and sweetness.  But also for that one afternoon, when he gave us the best of gifts on a sad, somber day - laughter.  Thanks, buddy.  

precious time

It is amazing how a little drop of hope can sustain you.  It is like the most beautiful flower in your garden...the one you never expected....the seed roots, it grows, it gets stronger each day....it blooms...it opens wide.  You feel happy and warm and content when you look at it.....hope is the same.  It dries my tears, it warms my heart, and it stills my soul.....it helps me sleep at night.  I hold tight to it, my grasp never weakens.  I believe. 

I don't live in a fantasy world, though. I do not have giant rose-colored glasses on. I am not sticking my fingers in my ears, louding saying, "La la la la la I can't hear you!" (a current specialty of my child!) I do not stick my head in the sand. Cold, hard reality is a constant companion.  Hope just makes its company easier to bear. Stage 4 cancer is still stage 4 cancer.  It's, as Pookie said last night, a death sentence.  It is.  That's cold, hard reality.  The hope is in the time......anything is better than that wretched 9 months.  I believe with all of my heart and soul that it is not right.  We have more time.  I feel it. Is it 20 years?  Probably not.  I know this, though it does not stop me praying for it.  Is it 10 years? God, I hope so.  Is it 5 years? God, I hope so.  Is it 2 years? God, I hope so....and more. Time, precious time....you don't know how precious it is, you really don't, until someone puts an expiration date on a person you love. 

To try not thinking about it - to stop the near-constant presence of tears, of despair; the white-hot anger that burns my belly; the pain that brings me to my knees - I plan. I first discovered this skill when we lost Adam 6 years ago.  I did not know what to do, only that I could not bear my Uncle Charlie's grief.  It is a grief I have never forgotten - that of a father, losing his only child, the son he raised alone.  So, I cooked.  I planned.  Who is bringing what? What should we have? Where are we going after the funeral? Who is picking Kristie up at the airport? Who is staying where? My aunt, mother, cousins, brothers - we made it happen. Then, on that bitter cold February day, I sobbed through the funeral, but pulled it together and got busy for the reception after. ( I did the same for his burial in the spring...though I do recall making Uncle Charlie laugh through his tears there.)  I did the same when Suzanne and Kelly lost sweet baby Cora.  I needed to do something, I needed to help -so, I planned. It helped that, as her lifelong friend, people asked me what to do, what they needed, etc.  I had purpose!  Oh, how it helped me get through those stark days.  I truly hope it helped them, too. 

Both times, though, I noticed how lost I felt when it was all said and done....that business of death.  The arrangements and services and people and food and attention.  People went home. Dishes were washed. Nothing left to do. I was bereft.  My purpose served.  Grief came for me. 

Now here I am - planning again.  Flying blind, by the seat of my pants, this time.  This is not what I know how to do.....I can cook, I can bake, I can coordinate a potluck like no one's business.  This is all foreign, which helps more. I have to figure it out AND plan.  I am not stupid - I know this is escapism.  I know it, and yet I still welcome it.  Because without it, I am staring that awful 9 months in the face.  That 9 months that is not true. 

So, I will keep planning.  I will plan and love and laugh and work and smell that glorious flower in the garden.  The one called hope.....and let its warmth spread through me.  I know grief will come for me eventually (it drops in unannounced for visits now), but it's not time yet.  It's just not time.