Le monde de fromage de Kate

I was privileged to meet (online and via phone) David O’ Leary when he volunteered to help with this year’s “LIVESTRONG Day at the Cinema.” As the timing was changed, I was unable to meet him in person, but he later contacted me about a wonderful collaboration he was setting up with Utah Cyclocross. Read a portion of his description from a press release:

When Utah cyclist and a member of the USA Cycling National Team Connor O’Leary (19 years old) was diagnosed with cancer this past summer, he and the cycling community knew they had to get involved to help others fighting this disease. The Lance Armstrong Foundation and Lance Armstrong personally have been a critical part of Connor’s care, so he was excited when his father, David O’Leary, suggested teaming up with Utah Cyclocross (www.utcx.net) to create CROSS OUT CANCER, a fun cyclocross event supporting LAF.

Utah Cyclocross organizer Matt Ohran stated, “When David O’Leary approached me about doing a fundraiser for Cancer I was honored that he thought that Utah Cyclocross could help make a difference. Hearing about his son Connor’s condition was heart breaking. I watched Connor mature into a very strong cyclist over the past years both on the road and at the UTCX series. I also immediately thought of Matt Bradley one of our most passionate Crossers who just had his foot amputated just below the knee, and of Cindy Yorgason, one of our race officials who both are battling cancer. The answer was an immediate YES – let’s figures out how and what we need to do to make this happen.”

CROSS OUT CANCER allows individuals in the greater Salt Lake City area to do something bold in the face of cancer by demonstrating support for local patients and by supporting the mission of the LAF to inspire and empower people affected by cancer.

UTCX has pledged to donate 100% of registration proceeds (a suggested donation of $15 dollars) from this special ride to LAF, which will be held in conjunction with Kiddie Cross at 12:20 PM with the Kids leading out the first lap. This event is in support of the many members of our community fighting against cancer including numerous cyclists who are currently battling this disease.

David O’Leary, a Lance Armstrong Foundation Fundraiser said, “We are proud and excited to be supporting this event and join thousands of other LAF supporters around the world in raising much needed funds to fight this disease that affects over 28 million people world wide. Together, we can help people with cancer live life on their own terms.”

The event will be held snow, rain, sleet or shine and all in attendance are encouraged to wear yellow, the color of LAF (LIVESTRONG). O’Leary went on to say, “Whether someone rides or simply comes to watch, they will be involved in an incredibly exciting event and will have personally helped to CROSS OUT CANCER.”

Funds raised through CROSS OUT CANCER will enable the LAF to continue helping people across the nation with the physical, emotional and practical challenges of cancer. Since its inception in 1997, the LAF has raised over $325 million to fight cancer.

And BEFORE the event has even occurred, David O’ Leary has already raised over $12,000 for LIVESTRONG in honour of his son. If you would like to make this an even MORE impressive Thanksgiving miracle, but cannot attend this event, please donate to CROSS OUT CANCER (supporting LIVESTRONG) by clicking on this link.

Please come to Wheeler Farm (6351 S 900 E, Salt Lake City, Utah) and participate in any of a number of activities. The schedule for the event is as follows:

• 8:30 a.m. – 12:20 p.m.: CROSS OUT CANCER Race Registration
• 12:20 p.m. – 1:00 p.m.: LIVESTRONG CROSS OUT CANCER Race
• 9:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.: LIVESTRONG Information and Resources table (in the Wheeler Farm barn)
• 9:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.: Silent Auction (benefiting LIVESTRONG) in the Wheeler Farm Barn

Whether you want to watch the races, bid at the auction, or ride for someone special in the the LIVESTRONG Cyclocross Race, it’s guaranteed to be an amazing morning. Moreover, contrary to my original impression, there will be NO conflict with the U of U versus BYU Football game (or a TINY overlap at the worst). Please visit the Utah Cyclocross website for more information on Cyclocross and on this event. And please feel free to contact me if you have any questions (unless you need information about bicycles, for in that case I will regale you with childhood tales of how my friends and I road our three-speeds WITHOUT HELMETS here and there and everywhere SOMETIMES taking my mother’s bicycle and putting someone in the baby seat!).

Yes, I have a STUPID subscription to Twittascope – a daily horoscope that tweets through my account (oddly, as though I post it – have never understood that part – but it causes greetings at odd times of day or night when I’m NOT around). I keep thinking it’s just an utter waste of space and time. Occasionally, however, it will say something that strikes me as amusing (mostly because of my complete lack of understanding of astrology; pretty much anything I do know I learned from Harvey Sid Fisher).

Yesterday, for instance, this tidbit was included in my horoscope: “Today’s Taurus Full Moon emphasizes your 4th House of Roots.” I thought this was HILARIOUS! Astrological insults to my substantial tookus AND my hair!

Today, though, I guess the planets aligned just so and Jupiter sat on Uranus or was in my 12th House of Creepy Stalkers – I cannot say for certain – but it was so spot on that it was SPOOKY:

You might know exactly how to improve your diet now, yet you aren’t telling anyone about your current realizations. Worse yet, you are tempted to do nothing, no matter how desperately the changes are needed. Fortunately, you are smart enough to remember the importance of taking care of yourself. Resist the waves of laziness and enlist the support of someone you trust.

I KNOW! In fact, I’m resisting the strong urge to CONFESS some of the truly frightening things I for no logical reasons have found recently NEEDED to be sprayed with whipped cream from a can. I think green smoothies are in order poste-haste!

I’ve been writing blog entries in my head (much to the delight of – em – the voices?). Perhaps, because, as a friend very diplomatically said to me, I’ve got too much time on my hands. Mind you, it’s only because I’ve been RESPONSIBLE and have been resting my lungs so that bronchio-spasms didn’t get out of control and that the consolidation would clear and the virus wouldn’t turn into some secondary infection. So, over a MONTH later, I find that I have briefly and tentatively left the house TWICE. (*Not counting a a couple days in Austin for the LIVESTRONG Challenge, but that’s a story for another time.)

It’s okay, I’m not complaining (at least not at the moment). I’m lucky it’s not worse; my oxygen saturation is always normal (even when I have secret pneumonia). It’s just that when you’ve got to stay relatively “quiet” and sometimes the meds make even gentle entertainment not very desirable, one has to assiduously work to control a brain, that I confess, runs on the edge.

So, all things considered, particularly at the moment, THE HORMONES… Oh – beg pardon – did I say, HORMONES????? Deal with it, squeamish ones. For such is life. FULL OF HORMONES!!! Bad ones, good ones, all sorts of HORMONES!!! Fine. Enough for now. hormones Okay, my most humble apologies – I shall set some things aside.

So we’ll hold off on mental illness, avulsion fractures (COOLEST NAME), crooked arms,@DeltaAssist reading and complimenting my blog (?), Mean Holidays and taking the “Challenge” out of the LIVESTRONG Challenge. And failed pies. I am putting all of those on the back shelf. Is that an expression? It SEEMS like it is an expression, so it must BE an expression, or it SHOULD be an expression.

Therefore, with no further ado, let’s talk about the important subject of THE BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT I’VE EVER SEEN ON THE COVER OF A CATALOG. It has been well established over the years that my mother receives pretty much every catalog imaginable. And I’ve written about some of the interesting consequences of this phenomenon.

Yet last week, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but THIS:

The only thing that could make it better is that these items, called “Belly Bumps,” are in the Museum Tour catalog. This catalog is chock-full of educational toys; there are categories for architecture, history, engineering, math, art and MONEY MANAGEMENT. This is the catalog that I saw Leif, who realizes he cannot receive every item on his extensive Christmas list, but who definitely wants “a couple of chemistry sets,” reading as though it were a secret, brand-new Harry Potter novel.

I could contend that I have a point. I MAY come up with one later (I may – don’t judge me). The truth at this moment is simply this: I want to run amok wearing a belly bump.

I cannot BELIEVE that I published the previous “post” – nay, one more attempt at the Great American Novella – in the wee hours of the same day I ended up with copious hematomas, unsightly bruises, a broken big toe and my right arm in a sling AND a splint. When my typing powers are back (ouch for now) I shall have to elaborate.

In the olden days I regularly posted to my blog even when my life had gone all pear-shaped. And the pear had gone rotten. And someone then stepped on the rotten pear. And then the rotten pear was tracked out onto the dirty streets and distributed to the vultures and ravens and those greasy mean birds whose name I forget.

I should make a disclaimer: I am pear-shaped. SO pear-shaped. And I take comfort in the fact that it’s more healthy than being apple-shaped. But one’s OWN shape is very different from the shape of one’s life.

Many things have happened and not happened. Now don’t think I’ve lost my profound edge. Many of these events, however, deserve to be revealed with lovely pictures and poetic words. And as my computer is… hibernating, I cannot do such entries justice. Oh – IT IS NOT DEAD! I just have jiggled the power cord input into a mess and haven’t yet had the nerve to attack the thing with jeweler’s screwdrivers. And a mallet. And unlike when my motherboard AND hard drive crashed, removing all the keys and cleaning out the feline hair with compressed air doesn’t seem like the answer.

And on a completely unrelated note, SHEESH! You could hang meat under this desk!!! I’m going to get hypothermia. (Stupid Windows machines.)

Let’s just cover something stupid I’ve done, then. There is ALWAYS a plethora of blunders from which to pick. And if my life’s misadventures entertain even ONE person, my mission is complete. Or something.

As evidenced by the fact that I have an ENTIRE category entitled “I fell down,” those who know me well are aware that I am capable an impressive variety of mishaps. This one is new. And for the sake of argument let’s rate things by the standard of “better than a poke in the eye” or NOT. This is NOT.

If you’ve not stopped reading already, I shall end the suspense and let you know what I did:

In my defense, organic tortilla chips are DANGEROUSLY SHARP! And please consider the alarming sensation of the salsa that smothered the offending chip. ¡AY, CARAMBA! Nevertheless, I shall NOT write a strongly-worded letter to the organic tortilla chip people, because then they’d have to put a WARNING on the bag about the fact the chips should not be used as weapons, and it smacks of the kind of warning my mom and I were discussing the other day. She’d been reading the safety precautions for a hairdryer and one of the warnings was, and this is deadly serious: “DO NOT USE WHILE SLEEPING.” The thing is, they have to put these disclaimers because SOMEONE ACTUALLY DID WHATEVER THEY MENTIONED. So, no, I do not want to be the “BEWARE THE KNIFE-LIKE EDGES ON OUR CHIPS” person.

But here’s where I got into a quandary (mild, I will say, but a quandary nonetheless). This wound is NOT a cold sore or a fever blister. However, as it is right on the corner of my mouth, thus:

1. You cannot really bandage it.
2. Typical first-aid salves are not appropriate as they are not to be ingested – even accidently (in fact, POISON! POISON!!!).
3. The sore constantly gets wet because one must STILL eat and drink.
4. It still LOOKS like freakin’ herpes!

I tried a variety of remedies: Unrefined shea butter (lovely stuff, but better for HEALED wounds), Smith’s Rosebud Salve, a Burt’s Bees® “protective” product that evidently they don’t make anymore (never knew its intended use – the packaging is VAGUE, making me wonder now if it is intended for one’s – em – nether regions), Neosporin® Lip Health™ Overnight Renewal Therapy™, and no doubt I threw some Bag Balm® in there somewhere. I realized that over-moisturizing of the wretched sore was NOT really helping. I needed antiseptic. Or a face-lift.

I broke down and went to – you guessed it – the cold sore and fever blister section in the store. I shall restate that one. I sought out the CURES for cold sores and fever blisters in the store. I have NOT been suffering the “pain and itching associated with cold sores” so that wasn’t really any help; an analgesic wasn’t the point. I didn’t need the surprisingly expensive “quick” treatments with the “serious medicine.” And forgive me, “Herpecin-L” folks, but it seems like we’ve moved AWAY from naming the CURE after the DISEASE. At the very least you could append an “ANTI” to the beginning. I’m just not inclined to purchase, say, “Mysterious Rash or Boil” cream. I might be SLIGHTLY more likely to purchase “ANTI-Mysterious Rash and Boil” cream, but OY WEH! [DISCLAIMER: I have not purchased any variety of cream or salve in that category. Recently anyway.]

Anyhoo, this is what I finally chose:

It’s inexpensive, it’s antiseptic, and I smell faintly like a ninety-two-year-old dowager. More importantly, it seems to be working. So HUZZAH for Campho-Phenique®!

Ooooh. That reminds me of my fondness for Tiger Balm Sports Balm (ULTRA-strength non-staining!). I carry oodles of tension in my shoulders and neck and I’m crooked (my BODY is crooked, this is NOT a statement of my ethical propensities… oh, never mind). I used to slather the stuff on. Suffice it to say it’s STRONG-SMELLING. One might say über-fragrant, in fact. This was NOT a popular choice with my erstwhile spouse. I personally think that sleeping in the same bed with someone who reeks so strongly of sinus-clearing vapours might be a GOOD thing, but I guess NOT.

There is ANOTHER bird in the chimney. Or, perhaps, a completely DIFFERENT another bird. At least I know better than to attempt THIS again.

Sooooo, rest in peace my avian friend. What a week.

The first time I saw it I was startled. The second time I was a unnerved yet mildly amused. However, the subsequent five billion times I’ve seen this Facebook ad, I have been gravely concerned.

Speechless. Yes, speechless momentarily.

Phew! THAT’S over. And now, WHAT IN THE HELL?

Are you a Mom? Are you making a piddling to middling amount of money? YOU ARE IN LUCK!!! Evidently, Mass Murderers Deranged Serial Killers Educational Society of America has a SCHOLARSHIP for YOU! Oh – wait – maybe not… But your own personal psycho-killer may help you get you a well-deserved PELL grant!

Why is this funny? (Or utterly CREEPY?) Because, it seems, this is no joke. Like I said, I’ve spotted it MYRIAD times.

IS IT JUST ME?

One year ago I knew my Beloved Grandma would die today. I recognized the signs. By evening, when everyone else had left for the day, I was dosing her with the appropriate medications hourly. I intended to do it all night if needed. It was not necessary.

I’m still second-guessing myself; I find so many things that I could have done better – I could have made my Grandma more comfortable AND comforted. I know I must let it go, but the sound of a voice crying out in pain and confusion stays with you.

I sang to Grandma. I sang with more intensity than I think I’ve ever mustered; I sang with every fiber of my being. I wanted to sing the Pie Jesu from Fauré’s Requiem, but I couldn’t get my Mother’s voice out of my head. She sang it so beautifully at the funeral of Helen Ann Williams Pawlowski, one of the other dear Mothers of my childhood. And she told my wonderful Pamela, who always was a sister, really, that she was not an orphan; she said she’d be her Mother, too. You cannot sing when you remember that.

So I played it for her. And then I started In Paridisum on a loop. But you always think there is more time. I’m glad I had leaned down close to her ear and touched her face and given her my thanks, all my love and told her to go to my Grandpa, for he had waited almost sixty years for her.

Though I didn’t know it until a few minutes later, I heard my Grandma’s last breath, just as I walked from the room to get doses of medication. When I went back into the room less than a minute later, I stood there with my hands full of syringes of liquid medication – just stood for few minutes at the side of her bed. I thought she might start breathing again (it happens) but she didn’t. I went and put the syringes down and came back to check her pulse. 11:55 p.m. January 6, 2009. Time of death.

I called my Mother. She was not surprised. I called hospice. I received, by some miracle, a call from my friend Grettir before anyone showed up. Bless him for having miraculous timing, compassion and patience when my life falls apart.

I had the privilege of helping the hospice nurse prepare my Grandma’s body for the Funeral Home. With reverential care she pulled the access needle from the port and removed the other tubes, we took off the cannula, she cleaned my Grandma while I helped move her body, and finally we put on a clean gown on her. She had to dispose of all the medications and she left. The funeral home gentlemen came and before they zipped up the home-made quilted shroud, and though I knew she was gone, I kissed my Grandma on her cool, smooth forehead.

I might protest at this juncture in some other entry that I had a point. I’m not sure that I do, unless it is to say that some moments in your life will never be forgotten. And many of these moments are ingrained on my psyche forever.

I had entries written in my head for my Grandma’s birthday (in JULY) and for other occasions, but they never made it to the page. Well, the title did. For when I was alone a year ago tonight – so alone – after they took my Grandma away and my Mom left, I didn’t know what do to. I had decided to stay with Lucy, her cat. That’s when I looked at her things. That’s when I laughed at some of the “collections” and cried at the beautiful letters written back and forth between she and my Grandfather.

I put on her anniversary band – ten diamonds in a band of white gold. She bought it herself on her Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary and it was the ring I remembered her wearing the most in the last decade. She was a little embarrassed that she’d purchased it for herself, but we all reassured her that my Grandpa would have wanted her to have it.

The ring is mine now. At some point after her Birthday, I started wearing it not just regularly, but night and day. My LIVESTRONG™ and other wristbands are a fixture as well unless I’m showering or the like. The most recent, a colo-rectal cancer wristband sent to me from Germany – a gift from my beloved Soul Sister, Henrike, was purchased in my Grandma’s honour.

So day and night, I wear my Grandma’s ring. I sleep with the diamonds on, because I cannot forget one year ago tonight. Nor can I forget a lifetime in which my beautiful Grandma was always, ALWAYS there for me. I will love you forever, Grandma.