Life. Sometimes, you have to laugh. Or suffer the consequences.

(please feel free to scroll down the column to find a link to Doug Savage's site for more Savage Chickens.)


>SNERK!!!<

In a very recent interview, I heard Carrie Fischer say that if her "life wasn't funny, it would just be true."

I've been mulling that over and appreciating her words.

 

Nightmare Before Christmas, Part III: the Our Holiday Descent into Hell. AGAIN. Tour.

Glioma. (glee-O-ma) Noun. A cancer of the brain that begins in glial cells (cells that surround and support nerve cells).

Worse? More specifically, high grade glioma.

We are reminded once again (at high cost) how very precious life is.

 

Serious Cause for Thanks

A year ago this month I was recovering from a lumpectomy.

It was my first time participating in NaBloPoMo, and I chose to participate specifically because I thought writing everyday would be a good diversion from whatever I might need diverting from, and perhaps a helpful therapy device.

As a diversion, writing about the experience wasn't always successful. As a form of therapy, I was grateful for the outlet.

My story from last November (which is accessible by clicking on the "November 2007" link in the archives section, just to the right) has a happy ending. The surgery, performed on the 6th, was textbook perfect. The results, which I received on the 9th, showed that my breast was cancer-free. My recovery was rapid; I never needed all the pain-killers provided in the prescription.

For all of these things I am deeply thankful.

I am also thankful for preventative medicine measures such as mammograms. Having said that, I should explain that my mammogram did not find my lump. I found it while in the shower. (Soapy water is the best method of discovery!) In fact, after I found the lump, neither mammogram nor ultrasound could definitively find it, although the lab techs were very able to confirm that it was there.

That was a terribly, profoundly, disgusting moment!! I had to admit to a small amount of relief that someone else was able to find the cause of worry that I had, yet it confirmed for me that I really did have something to worry about!!! The machines told me there was no lump. The humans in charge of the technology agreed (with me, not their tech-toys) that something was there. At least the humans were able to laugh with me and relate with me about the emotional conundrum I faced: "The good news is that we know you're not crying 'wolf', however, the bad news is that you may have something life-endangering growing inside you."

Again, that ended up not to be the case. I DID learn that the greatest benefit of preventative medecine is not always the procedures used, but the contact and reassurances one receives. I felt well-cared-for at each turn. That made a tremendous difference.

I have an obligation and an opportunity to get a mammogram every year. While I still must do my own self-exams, I feel like this clinical reminder is as helpful as anything else. It's as official as doing taxes and renewing license plates and voting. By putting that appointment on the calendar, I am making a commitment to my health.

I check my husband's breasts now and again, too. Breast cancer runs in his family. Never forget that men have breasts, and can be vulnerable to breast cancer! Because breast cancer awareness is not as promoted among men, it tends to be more lethal when it is finally detected, as it often goes undetected until a late stage of growth and has metastasized.

I celebrate my grim and joyful anniversary much as I spent my recovery: snuggling on the couch with my pets. Just for a moment, though. Life marches steadily forward, so I cannot stay here long! I embrace the activities with which I will fill the rest of my day.

I do enjoy this quiet moment as a gift.

 

Election Day, part 12

"In our secular world, elections are the closest thing we have to sacred." Heard on the Diane Rehm Show just now.

There are plenty of things in a secular world that are, in fact, sacred. But I agree that elections have a particular degree of 'sanctity'. With ALL the baggage of radical imperfection that cannonization brings!

 

Election Day, part 11: SWAG means "Stuff We All Get"

This time it's Starbucks, for my celebratory cup of coffee.

3 companies are dangling 'carrots', as it were, for people who voted to haul their patriotic behinds into their stores for free stuff: Starbucks is giving away a small (they call it "tall") coffee, Ben & Jerry's offers an icecream cone, and Krispy Kreme wants to give us a free donut.

Except it's illegal to offer goods in exchange for votes, so now, REALLY anyone can go up and ask for this stuff.

Isn't that interesting, though? To see such marketing ploys as potential bribery!

I'm glad, though, that the watchdogs are out. Ol' 43 has often seemed to be steering us dangerously close to a Third World status, behavior-wise. He treats the Constitution with as much regard as a paper placemat: he filled out all the mazes and the puzzles, colored the picture, spilled his Coke on it, and let someone else clean up. Child.

I can't wait til he returns to Crawford for his life in stand-up comedy; he's not leaving the country!

A delightful postscript to my visit to this Starbucks: I was originally going to just go in for my free cuppa. However, since we are out of coffe at home, and I love Starbucks coffees, I figured I'd buy a pound of something yummy. I don't normally buy their coffee: Costco's Kirkland brand coffee is far more economical and just as high in quality, if not as wildly wide ranging in variety. (As my tastes are simple, that hasn't bothered me.)

ANYWAY. I chose my beans, indicated my grind preference, and they informed me that I now get a SECOND FREE CUP OF COFFEE, because they give you a free cup of coffee when you buy a pound! Plus, they were giving free 'shots' of some seasonal latte with candied ginger bits on top of the whipped cream.

(I know!!!! Can you believe my luck?)

I left, caffeine-laden in both liquid and ground bean forms. The liquid-form caffeine was the only thing keeping me from happy-dancing all the way to the car, not wanting to waste One. Precious. Drop.

CAFFEINE BLISS!!!!!

Oh, if only there were a punctuation mark more expressive than a mere exclamation point. That could be the caffeine talking.

 

Election Day, part 10

Campaigning like a champion! Go, man, GO!

Of course, in Cleveland Heights, he's pretty much preaching to the choir. I don't think I've seen 4 McCain signs in the whole of the city.

At the Northwest corner of Cedar and Lee in Cleveland Heights. I'm so glad he has such a beautiful day. Many people are honking and waving in support!

 

Election Day part 9

Overflow parking, Board of Elections.

It's not in use today, as the BOE is not a voting location. Early Voting ended yesterday evening at 7:30pm. Now everyone must go to their regular polling location.

Please excuse the rotten photograph. (It shows a sign giving directions to alternative parking for folk who would have needed it during the previous weeks.) My cameraphone has lousy resolution when I use the 'zoom' function. This is the difference between "digital" and "optical" zoom: "digital" stinks, and looks like this.

 

Election Day, part 8: It Eats These Things...

My vote just got counted! GOBAMA!

You have no idea with what relief I send this post!

I had a panic attack yesterday that was so severe I nearly had to go to the ER, fearing it was a heart attack. It was all election-related. It meant the world to me to be able to vote, and to know that my vote counted.

 

Election Day, part 7

Voting instructions!

It was a lot like taking an acheivement test: you fill in the oval next to the candidate you want to win, just like you used to fill in the oval (or circle) of the answer you felt was correct. Same thing, really.

Voters had three options for filling out their ballots: wait for a booth to open, sit at an open spot at the table, or use a provided clipboard. These instructions pictured are, in fact, ON a clipboard. I didn't want to wait for a voting booth; there was a chair available at the table, and I pounced. The table was the very same table from which the election staff were handing out the ballots. In a way, I kind of thought that was almost a bit of a conflict of interest. I'm not sure if that's the right way to express it, but it's close...

Sitting at that table, we were right up against each other, and it sort of felt like taking the SAT or the IOWA test. "You can copy from mine, if you want..." I offered, to conspiratorial chuckles. Bewildered words were exchanged about the "fringe" presidential candidates -- Chuck (Constitution Party) and Bob (Libertarian Party) and Ralph ("Oh yeah! I forgot Nader was running! Huh. That's pretty funny..." said one of my neighbors.) It made for a true community experience. I enjoyed it like I've never enjoyed an election before.

I felt so connected to my community, to my country. It made it big and small and local and national and global all together.

I am SO GRATEFUL that I wasn't denied my Constitutional right to my voice in this election.

I love having this right. I love exercizing this right.

I love that there were so many people celebrating this opportunity to exercize this valuable right. I hope they learn to feel the way I feel, too, and come out with me every election.

 

Election Day, part 6

At the table!

The moment of truth: will I be on the rolls, or not? Do I get to REALLY vote, or am I one of the lost Provisional Voters?

 

Election Day, part 5 (I Think; I'm Losing Track...)

In the high school gym, and the line is moving. Our precinct has 5 voting booths. So has the other. At the end of each there is one machine which scans the sheet on which your votes have been marked. It lets you know if a mistake has been made, such as double marks or insufficient marks.

We have seen friends here! Neighbors, too. Cool.

 

Election Day, part 4

A-a-a-al-l-l-mo-o-o-o-ost there!

 

Election Day, part 3

Our precinct map.

What surprised us is that they split our street. Our street is only 2 blocks long, and the part of the street that is not in our precinct is the part that is closest to the high school, which is where we vote. Huh???

I'm glad I'm not the one making decisions. Or at least, not the one having to justify the decisions made.

 

Election Day, part 2

Inside! It's VERY warm. People are very polite and speaking in hushed tones. Could be the early hour. Still, it makes it feel like we're going into church or a museum or court or something. Especially with all the cell phones going off...

 

Election Day, part 1

In line to vote at Heights High. We got here at 6:49. HUGE line. Kinda wild!

The woman behimd me said her friend in Columbus has been in line since 5:30!

I've never seen anything like this.

Pink is EVERYWHERE. How can you NOT be aware of breast cancer???

Pink is EVERYWHERE. How can you NOT be aware of breast cancer???
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

Life is a blur as we speed our way into Cleveland Browns Stadium. I know from others' experience that the best way to keep my cell phone is to hold the heck onto it, so I am blogging my way up the escalator into the endzone opposite the Dawg Pound. People behind are taunting the crowd, letting us know how inadequate we all are for not responding to their call-and-response cheering.

I gotta tell ya, no matter how well or lousy-embarassing we do, I gave up all my energy on the marathon and the Everyman/Everywoman unpaid runner competing yesterday. They're not making millions of dollars for the privelege of sports participation. Nyah.

In the meantime, there are dozens of teams of people outside the stadium, mostly women, dressed in pink and collecting for breast cancer causes. I wish more energy would be given to raising men's awareness to the fact that THEY are also susceptible to breast cancer. At this point in history, men have a significantly higher mortality rate than women (for all that it's rarer) simply because they do not have the same safety and awareness measures in place as women.

 

PSST! John McCain!

Oh my goodness. Didn't they teach you politeness in Senator School? Or have you been in DC so long you've simply forgotten how to behave among polite company?

Do you remember at least that when you are asking for something (VOTES, for example), *ALL* company is polite company?

What I'm getting at, Senator McCain, is that I'm not the only one who noticed that you did not shake Senator Obama's hand after the debate last night.

Because others noticed it, others who are better placed not only to report such details, but to report the same cold shoulder you showed to Sen. Obama's offered hand post-Congressional vote last week.

Do that once, and that might be seen as a missed goodwill opportunity. Twice? It's personal.

Be on your best behavior. EVERYTHING counts now. If we're lucky, this year, perhaps maybe even votes will count.

 

It's ON!!!

The Veep Debate, that is!! I'm watching.

Why?

1. I'm intrigued. They're both unpredictable characters.

2. I want to see what each candidate has to say about the issues... IF they actually manage to answer stuff...

3. I like Gwen Ifill's moderating style.

4. I want a preview of Saturday Night Live.

What I think is priceless about the scheduling is this particular debate is the fact that it pre-empts 30 Rock. With Joe Biden's Alec Baldwin-like gaffs and Sarah Palin's body double Tina Fey, will anyone notice? >snerk<

 

Ever wonder what the view's like from the *outside* of the stewpot?

This Canadian folk-rock singer-songwriter (no, his last name isn't also hyphenated), Luke Doucet (see?) has a great song. It sums up what a lot of people globe-wise have been expressing about our humble election: what happens on our election day will affect them, so it'd be cool (useful, even!!) to be an American for a bit.

If you click THIS LINK, you'll see lyrics.

If you click THIS LINK, you'll hear a story about Canadian patriotism encapsulated by song, yes, but stick with it and you'll hear Luke Doucet's song, "I Wish I Was American". Don't worry, it's less than 5 minutes total, and the bit about Canadian patriotism is all to set up the song.

The song itself has a poignant message but rousing tune. Very catchy.

Makes you think. Know anyone who's not using their vote? Someone overseas (or over the border, at least) would really like to use it.

If you don't vote after hearing that, there's something very wrong with your sense of civic duty and American Pride. Let your conscience tell you who to vote for, but for the sake of all that is baseball, hot dogs, and apple pie, VOTE.

 

Thankful Thursdays

"God is on my side."

My Uncle Don wrote that in his gratitude journal. Aunt Arlene shared this with me in an email I received today. Today is his wake; tomorrow will be his funeral.

Many bloggers have adopted a "Thankful Thursdays" habit in their writings. I believe that, in Uncle Don's honor, it's time for me to take up that yoke. I sure am thankful to be his great-neice.

I don't know what sort of sides he was envisioning that God and he were taking up, or who was on the other side. But Uncle Don wasn't someone I'd want to have as an adversary.

He was a veteran of WWII, where he served in Europe. They often refer to the two major divisions of attention as "theaters", as in "the European theater" and "the Pacific theater", but I just can't imagine taking a bag of popcorn to sit and watch THOSE goings-on. Anyway, he was Over There from 1943-1946. They didn't decorate the 'theaters', but they tended to decorate the service-people: Uncle Don was awarded the Purple Heart and two Bronze Stars.

He ended up getting terribly, severely wounded during his service. On his cot in the triage he heard the medics say that he was too far gone, nothing more could be done for him. Amazingly, another voice, a voice he thought he recognized but just couldn't place, said, "Hold on a minute! I know that kid! He's a good kid. He's from my town! See what you can do for him, huh?"

He never found the source of the voice to thank him.

Fast forward years later to a teen-aged girl, sneaking into her uncle's bedroom. He'd've been out, oh, goodness knew where, but my mom was visiting her grandparents and curiosity took over. She just had to listen to those records again! My mom told me time and again how she would sneak into her Uncle Don's or her Uncle Frank's room to listen to their records -- they had all the good Big Band sounds -- whenever her parents took her to visit her grandparents and her uncles weren't around.

I kind of like that mischievous vision of my mom. I relate to the hero-worship of elder relatives who seem so cool.

As long as we're on that fast-forward button, leave it on til we hit the early 70s. That'll be my childhood.

Uncle Don was my Grandpa Kopsell's brother. I remember watching the two of them together when I was just a very little girl -- boy, they simply fascinated me! I tell you, they were giants!

They weren't just big for being tall (and they were very tall!! -- and lanky, so they seemed even taller), they spoke tall. The words that came out of their mouths were bigger than the words from other people. Uncle Don threw words left and right, like he was sowing fields, and he wanted to make sure it was a full crop. His words were ALL CAPS, and very colorful, and they came at you. It was like being wrapped up in the comics page when you were in the presence of Uncle Don's words, it was that bright and exciting. Grandpa sat back and pondered a bit before speaking, but whoo boy; you were glad you were there when he finally opened his mouth. It was something worth hearing when he spoke; and when he spoke it was with Title Caps and generally he used boldface. It was exciting when he spoke too; merely to be in the presence of these titans was awesome. I don't remember a word they said, but I know every bit was earth-shatteringly important. At least, it was on that day.

It was around that time that I first read the word 'bombastic'. I didn't know what the word meant, but I did know that Uncle Don had been a soldier in World War II, and I certainly knew that the word 'bomb' was in that word. I knew that they used bombs in the war (and in many wars), and it seemed like a likely word for a soldier. Plus, it rhymed with 'fantastic'. What could be a better word for my dear Uncle Don?

This was all in the mind of a little girl still too young for Kindergarten.

Now, I'd never shared that story with anyone before this week. I've known for quite some time now what 'bombastic' really means, though I often have to look it up to be sure (it never feels right to me). I finally shared this story with my cousin Sheila (Uncle Don's daughter), and they may be telling this story at the funeral on Friday. I had to provide a definition of 'bombastic' to accompany the story, and I think that's really wonderful, because it's just one of those words that most people use to describe a character flaw when it really should be a strength.

I'm so thankful Uncle Don was a part of my life. I'm so thankful that sad partings sometimes bring family closer together, even if only for a time. I am tremendously grateful for my cherished memories and the family I do have still. I'm thankful for my faith that feeds my hope of reunion. I'm thankful for the visit Rick and I made the last time we were in Illinois, and for the warm welcome we were given by Uncle Don and Aunt Arlene when we just showed up (well, we called ahead, but not by much).

And so, I dedicate my first Thankful Thursday to the memory of my Great-Uncle Donald H. Kopsell. I'm thankful, finally, that you reminded me that God, however we call upon God, is on ALL our sides, and when we get to that Other Side, we'll have a far better, deeper, more complete understanding of sides and of God.