fiction: tabloid inspired

A couple of weeks ago, the homework for my writing class was to take a headline from a tabloid and use it as a jumping off point for a more serious short story or poem. I was uninspired by the headlines in my grocery star tabloids ("Brad Gives Angie Ultimatum!" "Jennifer Lopez Fights Eating Disorder!" "Larry King Marries Again!") and decided to go to that old standby - the now sadly defunct Weekly World News. I stole a legendary headline from them. The monologue that follows is all my own.

"Bat Boy Found in West Virginia Cave!" by Bill Creighton, Weekly World News, June 23, 1992

I blame the doctor.

I wanted a baby so badly. The other doctors I'd seen wouldn't help me, so I sought this one out. The office was in a bad part of town and it was dark and smelled a bit funny but he didn't ask me many questions. He said he would help me get pregnant.

And he did. I don't know what the shots were for or what was in the medicine he gave me to drink but I didn't care. I would soon have my baby.

It wasn't a difficult pregnancy. I didn't get too sick. The last few months were hard when I had trouble sleeping but that was it, really. It would have been more fun if there had been someone – anyone - in my life to share in my excitement, throw me a baby shower or help me set up the nursery. But I didn't mind so much. Soon I would have a baby to love. I wouldn't need anyone else.

He was born right on his due date and, from the first, I could tell something was wrong. The first time I held him in my arms I felt not love but revulsion. This was not the child I was meant to have. He was not my baby.

In those first few months he cried a lot. I made sure that he was fed and his diapers were dry but for the most part, I left him in his crib. He was safe there and I did not have to look at him.

As he got older, I continued to cringe at his touch. When he tried to crawl in my lap, I would push him away. When he cried, I left him to it. No one could say that I did not take good care of him. He had food and clothes, I even bought him books and toys. But nothing could make me love him.

I don't feel too guilty about that because it soon became clear that he was a bad kid. The first time he got into trouble in school, I went in to meet with the his teacher. After that, I didn't bother answering her notes or phone calls. If he couldn't get along with the other kids there was really nothing I could do.

The first time he ran away, I called around to the neighbours. The second time, I left the door unlocked so he could come in when he decided to come home. The third time, I locked it.

The first time he was arrested, I went down to the police station right away. The second time, I let him spend the night in jail. The third time – I decided he was the state's problem not mine.

A short time after that, he stole a car from the school parking lot. I haven't heard from him since. This morning I got a call. He was found hiding in a cave in West Virginia. They want me to come to him. But what would be the point?

That child, that particular child, was a mistake. He should never have been born.

I am sad, though. I do feel a loss – not for that child but for the baby I might have had. The mother I might have been.

Maybe I should try again.

This time, I'll go to a different doctor.

not about the Beatles

I don't have the energy to write anything of substance today, so I thought I'd share a little bit of silliness from my writing class last night.

Our teacher instructed us to "write about the Beatles" and this is what happened for me:

"When I think of the Beatles, I think of the Rolling Stones. I was a teenager in the 80s and both groups had already passed into iconic status. Which band was better in my mind? The answer, to my adolescent self anyway, seemed obvious.

Paul was cute. John was smart (and tragic) and I couldn't even imagine what the other two guys looked like. But Mick...Mick was hot. With those eyes, those lips, that hair. And those hips.

I couldn't have told you whose music was better, more complex, which group would have staying power. 

I just knew that the Beatles were pretty but Mick made me feel warm in places this Catholic girl wasn't supposed to think about."

without judgment

Every day is filled with an overwhelming number of choices. Some are fairly trivial, others will have lasting impact. Some days, I'm so overwhelmed by the choices I must make that I long to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head.

When I was younger, I saw the world in terms of black and white. There were wrong decisions and right ones. The rules of engagement with life seemed fairly clear. And I thought I had most of the answers.

Sometimes, I wish I still saw life that way. But the truth is that the world is filled with shades of gray. When faced with a choice, two people can make completely different decisions and sometimes, both can be making the right choice.

Don't get me wrong. There are still many clear cut choices to be made and situations where it ought to be obvious what is just and what is right. But with most of our day to day choices, things just aren't that clear.

So I have become much less judgemental than I used to be. And, for the most part, I'm happier that way.

The one person I still consistently judge - and harshly- is myself. And I tend to reflect these feelings onto others and assume that others are judging me harshly as well.

There are times when I don't engage in activities that appeal to me or do things I want to do because I fear I will be judged.

I had a bit of an epiphany about this this yesterday. If I am more gentle with others than I once was, should I not assume that a significant percentage of the people in my life will be gentle with me? And if others do judge me - so what? What consequence does it really have for my life? Why should the opinions of others stop me from living as I wish, as long as my choices are not harmful to others or to myself?

It's time for me to try and let go of self-judgment. It's not going to be easy. And I expect lots of back-sliding. It's going to be hard to separate out setting priorities and acknowledging mistakes from judgment. But I plan to try.

I start a writing class tonight. I'm feeling very anxious about it. Let's hope I can keep some of the words I've just written in my heart and allow myself to participate, learn and have fun.

random on a rainy day

There's something about a cold, rainy day that makes me just want to crawl back under the covers. I've resisted that temptation all day but I'm fighting a cold and my brain doesn't seem to want to function, except in fits and starts.

Here are some random thoughts, that I'm posting as a compromise between cogent and nothing at all.

1. All four performances of my son's play went very, very well this week end. I could not be prouder of him. He worked very hard for many months, to learn his lines and his blocking and he got himself to every rehearsal on time. The director gushed about him and said that she'd loved to work with him again. He had a big part and he was brilliant.

2. I thought, as his mother, that I was very restrained. I found myself reacting quite viscerally to the kids and teacher who bullied him on stage (Sacha tells me that they are all very nice people) and had to remind myself that they were actors in a play.

3. I was also very restrained during the after-party at a local pub. We sat in a different room from Sacha, gave him money (hey wait - the community centre paid for dinner and drinks and he still kept our twenty bucks!) and we only went to talk to him when it was absolutely necessary. I did call out "There's my baby!" when he walked in the door but otherwise did my best to embarass him only minimally.

4. The pub did not have a wide selection of food, so I decided to pretend I was a student again and share calamari, antijitos and nachos, washed down with beer. Afterwards, my GERD reminded me that I no longer have the constitution of a student. My GERD is well managed but apparently fried things can knock down the best defenses.

5. My jaw is very sore today. I think I'm going to have to break down and wear my mouthguard. Every time I think of it, I remember Tina Fey and Steve Carell in Date Night. It really is that sexy.

6. I've been editing a book in progress for a friend and loving it. It's made me remember how much I love that kind of work - especially when I'm working with good writing and interesting information (which I definitely am).

7. My skirmish with Zellers ended with them sending me a cheque for $7.48 because they "value my business."

8. This blog post was interrupted when Daniel's school called. He was sent home with a tummy ache. He was fine when he got home. This happens every Monday afternoon. Time for a meeting with the school.

9. Daniel just told me to "stop being so moody."

giving in to the monkey brain

Herceptin

I think I'm happy with the outcome of the brouhaha over Herceptin in Ontario. For those of you outside the province or outside the loop. Jill Anzarut, a 35 year old woman undergoing treatment for breast cancer made the news last week when she announced that the province had to pay for Herceptin because her Her2+ tumour was less than one centimetre (that's about 1/4 inch) in diameter.

The province initially refused to budge but eventually caved after a massive campaign played out in the social and traditional media. Access to Herceptin will now much more room for discretion when it comes to providing access to the drug.

I feel good about this. It's not that I think that every drug should be funded for every person. Her2+ cancers are very aggressive and, as best put by Stephen Chia, chair of the British Columbia breast-tumour group, “In HER-2 positive cancers, it’s not the size that drives it; it’s the HER-2 gene that drives it.” 

Election

Canadians are once again going to the polls. I am not happy about this. 

I'm sad that the long overdue Bill C-389 protecting the rights of transgendered people will die before it gets the chance to be thrown out by the Senate.

I'm worried that we will end up with a Conservative majority.

I have election fatigue. There was a time in my life when an election would make me feel excited and hopeful. Now I just think, "Ugh."

Presents in the mail

Did you see my scrabble pendant in yesterday's post? My friend Leslie sent it to me after I told her I'd like to have on with my initial on it. It made me very happy to open the envelope that held my surprise.

The bad with the good

Last week, I received my author's copy of the current issue of Canadian Woman Studies. The theme this quarter is Women and Cancer and I have a poem that is part of a piece called "Seven Reflections on Breast Cancer by Seven Women Who Worked Together." I'm happy about that.

I'm far less happy about another piece I stumbled on when I was leafing through the issue. It's called "The Private/Public Split in Breast Cancer Memoirs." It was written by a woman who came to my book launch in Toronto and asked for permission to speak in order to seek contributions - something to which I readily agreed. She also asked me to contribute to the issue, which prompted me to reach out to my writing group.

I had no idea that she planned to write a scathing deconstruction of my book - but that's what she did. I know that all writers get bad reviews but I found her comments to be very critical of me as a person (I guess you can't seperate the analysis of a memoir from its author) and quite unfair. 

I'm sure how to respond or react, or whether I should do so at all. I've actually been unable to finish reading the article. With a distinct lack of maturity, I threw the journal onto the living room floor and it stayed there for several days. I only just picked it up, in order to write this post.

I'll let you know what I decide to do. Meanwhile, I'm pasting my very own contribution below. It's a very small part of a greater whole (and not the strongest piece by the seven of us by any stretch) but it's mine and, like all my writing, expresses a little bit of what has been in my heart.

Snap shots

December 2^nd, 2005.

When I close my eyes, I see myself as I was then.

Short dark hair and boots with heels.

Irritable and excited in equal measure.

I knew big change was coming. And it did. But it was not what I expected.

I was getting undressed when I found the lump.

July 1^st, 2006

I close my eyes and see myself as I was then.

Round, bald and bloated. But happy.

Chemo is behind me. Or so I expect.

I am self-conscious but also hungry.

I eat two burgers at the barbecue.

December 24^th, 2006

I close my eyes and see myself as I was.

I rallied for Christmas Eve but in the end the pain got the best of me.

My liver was riddled with tumours. And I had waited too long for the morphine.

My mother had to put me to bed. That comforted me.

And so did the drugs.

June 25^th, 2007

I close my eyes and I can taste

The strawberries on my tongue

The sensual pleasure of the whipped cream

And the Niagara ice wine as it slid down my throat.

I knew I would soon have something to celebrate.

December 16^th, 2009

I close my eyes so I can think.

I have now been in remission for 30 months.

And I will be in treatment for the rest of my life.

Some days I wake up celebrating.

Some days I grieve for what I have lost.

Today is a sad day.

Tomorrow will be better. Or maybe the day after that.

cluck, cluck.

The following things have occurred in my recent past. My spouse has moved his office to our house and I have acquired a smart phone and the knowledge/ability to send text messages.

 Now that we are in the same house all day, it's possible that we actually speak less. He works in the attic and when I want to talk to him, instead of picking up the phone to call him, as I used to, I'm more apt to send a text (I'm late to the texting party, I know but I'm making up for lost time with a vengeance).

The following conversation took place this morning, via text message (the blog post in question is the one directly below about last night's dream):

Me: "Can you proof my blog?"

T.: "Sure."

Me: "Thanks!"

T. (a few minutes later): "No typos, that I could see. Just weirdness."

Me: "Do you want to have me committed?"

T.: "Hardly. We need the eggs."

Me: "I don't understand."

T.: "Old joke about a man who thought he was a chicken."

Me: "SNORT."

guest blogging!

I was honoured to be asked to be this week's guest blogger for the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation (the folks who organized my recent makeover).

Let me know what you think. I even like the photo they're using! 

happy new year!

In 2010, I:

Made soup.

Started running again and kept at it (in fact, I did the Resolution Run 5K last night before breaking into the wine and fondue).

Started editing my novel. It doesn't really have an ending yet but I don't totally hate what I've written, so that's a start.

Found a writing buddy.

Knit a lot of dish cloths.

Played lots of Scrabble/Lexulous

Had my heartbroken when my dog died.

Went to Florida in the in the summer to get away from a heat wave.

Spent some quality time with girlfriends.

Organized a team for the Run for the Cure, called No Pink for Profit. By run day, we were more than 40 women and we raised more than $20,000.

Fell in love with Twitter.

Finally got a smart phone.

Learned that grief is not a linear process.

Spent a lot of time thinking about community, friends and family. I am very, very lucky.

For 2011, I wish us all love, peace, good health and many wonderful adventures.

but i have an excuse (actually i have a few)

I bailed on National Novel Writing Month on the first day, having written just under 700 words.

I felt like there were too many other interesting bits of writing that I wanted to do, including continuing to edit last year's novel.

And then my life became insane. I've been really hard on myself for all the things I'm not doing lately. This week, though, I've had two people who are very important to me (my coach/therapist and my friend DM) listen to me unload and then tell me that I would have every right to feel overwhelmed with a fraction of what I've got on my plate.

I tend to be hard on myself because I don't work outside the home right now. If I don't go to a job I feel like I should just sail through my other commitments. It felt really good to list everything going on in my life and have two women I respect offer support and sympathy. I've decided that I need to cut myself a lot more slack.

I can do NaNoWriMo next year. I'm OK with that. But I did feel a pang when my son sent me this video:



NaNoWriMo was a fun kind of crazy. I just couldn't let the rest of my life go to do it this year.

what i would miss

I just did an interesting writing prompt from Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldberg:

"Tell me what you will miss when you die."

The instructions were to write for ten minutes without censoring yourself. Here's what I wrote:

My kids

My spouse

My family

My friends

My dog

Beautiful fall days

Walks along the canal with my dog

Getting lost in a book

Taking a nap on a cold afternoon

Knitting with friends

The feeling of euphoria when I write something good

Music

Good food

Laughing

Wondering at art

A hot bath after exercise

Physical intimacy (all kinds)

The happy feeling when I unexpectedly run into someone I like

Learning new things

Aha! moments

Seeing people do good things

Being proud of my children

Noisy gatherings around my dining room table

Doing fun things for the first time

Doing familiar things that make me happy

Connecting creatively or intellectually

Making new friends

Having old friends and family members who 'get' me

Scrabble

Fresh starts

Clean sheets

Small kindnesses

Spectacular acts of bravery

Feeling proud of myself

The way the pavement smells after a summer rain

The possibility of tomorrow

What about you?

omg

letter of the day

Yesterday, CBC Radio's Q featured an interview with Samantha King, author of Pink Ribbons Inc.

At the end of the interview, listeners asked the following questions (they were also posted to the Q blog): What are your impressions of cancer fundraising and awareness efforts? Are they working? Do you find any aspect of them troubling?

My sister-in-law, B. alerted me to the interview (she listens on the east coast schedule) and encouraged me to write a letter in response. This morning, a slightly edited version of this letter was read on the air (I was the "Letter of the Day"):

In January 2006, when I was 38 years old an the mother of two young children, I was diagnosed with very aggressive breast cancer. I underwent a brutal treatment regimen only to learn in November of that same year that the cancer had spread to my liver. I was told that I had “years, not decades” to live.

I resumed treatment and, this time, my response was immediate and dramatic – by June 2007, there was no longer any sign of cancer in my body. As I write this, I am still in remission. I'm also still in treatment, as we don't know enough about what happens when metastatic breast cancer disappears to make an informed decision about stopping.

I know without a doubt that I am alive today because of the kind of cutting edge research funded by breast cancer organizations. I also know that thousands of women who've been through breast cancer live better lives because of the kind of advocacy and outreach work that is undertaken by non-profit organizations.

But I do cringe, seethe and yes, even rant every time October comes around and we are deluged with pink products from fried chicken to face cream to key chains.

In theory, I'm not opposed to corporate sponsorship. But in the same way that I think cigarette companies should not be permitted to sponsor children's festivals, I'm offended when companies that sell products that are unhealthy, bad for the environment and laden with carcinogens jump on the “pinxploitation” bandwagon. At best, these campaigns do little to eradicate breast cancer and worst, they are a cynical attempt to grab some good PR and increase profit margins at the expense of anyone who's life has been affected by cancer.

Don't get me wrong. I don't judge anyone who's drawn to all the pink stuff. I own a lovely pink cowboy hat. I would just ask folks to think before they get swept up in the “Pinktober” frenzy. Put that pink soup back on the shelf. Step away from the pink sweater with the pink ribbon buttons (for so many reasons). Unless you really want the pink sunglasses, save your money. Most companies only give a tiny percentage of sales to breast cancer research. Why not make a donation instead to an organization that is demonstrably contributing to research, advocacy and especially prevention of all cancers? Then you'll know that you really are making a difference.

All the letters that the host, Jian Ghomeshi, read were on this subject and all of them opposed pinkwashing. Perhaps tomorrow will bring a deluge of letters taking an opposing opinion but it's good to see that more of us are speaking out on this issue that has driven me wild since my own diagnosis of breast cancer.

Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

chronically whiny

I always think it's going to be different.

I say to myself, "This round of treatment, I will exercise and write and continue with my daily routine and see if that makes me feel better."

And thent, in the days that follow each dose of vinorelbine and Herceptin, I stay in bed too sick to do anything and lacking the self-discipline (motivation?) to try getting exercise, writing or going about my daily routine.

I don't even bother to eat well (although the soup I made the night before chemo was delicious and easy to heat up, so I did eat lots of that) or even do the easy things that might help (I was on the phone with my writing buddy and she asked if I'd been drinking hot water with lemon and ginger. Easy to prepare and she swears by it, yet I had completely forgotten).

I don't even drink enough water.

I just wait until the weekend when I know I'll feel better (unless I get sick, as I did yesterday and had to miss dinner with friends and my beloved book club).

I'm fed up.

Fed up with losing a week out of every month.

Fed up with having to constantly worry about my energy levels and not overdoing.

Fed up with not  having answers and having to worry.

Sometimes I amuse myself (and no one else) by announcing, "I'm done. That's it!"

But I don't really mean it. 

I know where I'd be if it weren't for all the chemo and the Herceptin. And I know that it's worth it.

And who knows? Maybe next time will be different.

women who care

A wonderful book was published this week. Women Who Care features stories of women's health care experiences - as providers and as patients. The book was the brain-child of Dr. Nili Kaplan Myrth:

In her third year of medical training - discouraged by how little focus there was on caring - a young woman was faced with a decision: she could throw her hands up and quit or she could risk speaking up and work toward change. She decided to send out a call asking women to share their experiences with health care and caring. Her e-mail inbox immediately overflowed with stories from women across Canada Together, this amazing group of women wrote Women Who Care.

The book was published by Pottersfield Press. I'm proud to say that an essay I've written has been included. It's called "Patient Personified" and it's about how the politics of health care have become intensely personal since I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

You can order the book through the publisher or your local bookseller (Octopus Books is carrying it in Ottawa). The books author's will be donating any royalties to the Women's College Hospital Foundation.

10 in june part two: writing through heartbreak

June is a very busy month. The end of the academic year means that there are meetings, plays and endless school-related events (most are fun but they do keep me busy). Also, I've been very distracted because J-Dog (known to us as Jasper Friendly Bear) is very sick.

We are waiting on the biopsy results of tissue taken from several large tumours in his mouth. Honestly, it doesn't look good. Even if the tumours are benign, which is highly unlikely, the surgery to remove the growths would be dangerous and painful (not the mention the fact that having half his upper jaw removed would leave him with a dubious quality of life). Leaving them where they are is out of the question because they are making him very uncomfortable and affecting both his breathing and his ability to swallow.

We love this dog a lot. He's a very sweet old soul, who was born with tremendous dignity, intelligence and loyalty. I can't bear the thought of losing him but I can't stop thinking about it.

And you can imagine that this family would find all of this especially traumatic. As a wise and dear friend said to me, "You have to make sure the kids understand that he's not you." And even as we all understand that, this is all rubbing salt into some wounds that may never fully heal.

This was meant to be a post about writing, though - something I am reminded means more to me than an obligation or an item on a 'to do' list - so let me get back to that now.

Here are my goals for the month (taking up the numbering from where I left off in my last post):

5. Write for ninety minutes, four times a week (or 300 minutes per week). Given how busy I knew I'd be, I thought I'd set a more realistic goal (I'm already behind but not iredeemably so).

6. Write the speech for the Weekend to End Women's Cancers fundraiser (I don't have much of a choice about this one because I'm delivering it on Monday. I've got some detailed notes but a fair bit more work to do. Did I mention that I'm delivering it - at least in part - in French?).

7. Write a first draft of a short story (I've had this idea about Elvis and my home town for a while now).

I'm also going to continue to re-read and edit my draft novel but I'm not going to write that one down as a goal, since it's an ongoing process and I'm on track, thanks to my writing buddy and our regular exchanges and phone meetings.

It felt good to write all of that - about the fear and the grief but also about the goals I have set for myself. Writing gives me hope and a sense of purpose. When I do it well, it gives me confidence.

It's also very therapeutic.

Update: The vet called this evening. It's cancer. We have some choices to make but none will be easy. 

may's ten things: how i did

Here's how I did with May's "To Do" list (still playing along with the List Lovers at BlogHer):

As with previous months, completed tasks are in blue, partially done tasks are in green and the tasks I didn't even started in purple.

1. Spend an average of eight hours writing a week (I didn't even come close but I did make some progress on the editing of the draft novel and I started meeting - and exchanging writing - with my awesome writing buddy so I'm going to give myself partial credit anyway).

2. Do strength training at least twice every week (I did it once all month but I've been suffering from some gastrointestinal issues that made strength training, especially ab work, less appealing. It's pretty lame but it's all I've got).

3. Do an average of five hours of cardio every week (Completed and exceeded this goal!).

4. Make soup twice (I made the sweet potato spinach one I mentioned in last month's post and another one that I made up with cabbage and Indian spices. This business of winging it is a new development for me and I'm very pleased).

5. Sort through my clothes (Carried over from February, March and April and still not done).

6. Finish making summer plans for my family. (It's very nearly done. I just need to book my youngest into a couple of weeks of day camp).

7. Go to at least one bike store and do some test rides.

 

8. Spend one afternoon every week doing something fun or relaxing.

9. Finish one knitting project.

10. Spend one afternoon per week just dealing with this to-do list.

So that's six things accomplished, two partially done (and one of those could almost be in the 'done' category) and two not yet finished.

I'm pleased with my progress but I'm also aware that two of the items that got short shrift (the clothes and the writing) are things I really wanted to do.

I'm organizing myself differently for June but I'll tell you about that in another post. 

10 to do in May

For the last few months, I've been playing along with a group of folks over at BlogHer who've formed a group called "List Lovers Unite." I'm a sucker for "to do" lists and I've found the practice of making monthly to do lists to be rather compelling.

Sticking to the list, however, has yielded mixed results. Here's how I did with April's list (as with previous months, completed tasks are in blue, partially done tasks are in green and the tasks I didn't even started in purple):

1. Write a first draft of the short story I've been kicking around. (I wrote an outline)

2. Spend an average of eight hours writing per week. (Not even close)

3. Do strength training at least once a week and continue with the five hours of cardio per week. (I'm very pleased to have started the strength training, which I did, for at least a few minutes, five times in four weeks. I fell a couple of hours short with the cardio, though. I need to remind myself on rainy days that I'm not made of sugar).

4. Sort through my clothes (carried over from February and March). (I bought some clothes but my closet is still overflowing with stuff I can't or don't wear).

5.Make summer plans for my family. (we are going to Blue SkiesMusic Festival this year and have tentatively planned another couple of trips but I have yet to sit down with a calendar and nail it all down)

6. Brush my big (shedding) dog once a week and my smaller (non-shedding, tangling) dog every other day. (I brushed the big dog once and the little one twice. I did take Lucy to the groomer on Tuesday, though. She's been shorn now, so now I really only have ears and tail to brush for a while)

7. Update my Ravelry project page.

8. Finish another scarf.

9. Make soup twice. (the jambalaya in the slow cooker when I wrote last month's post was the only soup I made. It was a good one, though)

10. Get a hair cut. (Done. And I feel much better with shorter hair)

I did get something done that had been on my previous month's to do list. I bought a bathing suit. And then I wrote about it for BlogHer and even posted a photo of myself.

I'm still reeling from that one.

Around the middle of the month, I realized was feeling very grumpy. I figured out that I was unhappy because, while I wasn't necessarily getting anything done, I also wasn't having any fun. I had to remind myself that, as I'm the one attempting to give my life more structure, I'm also the one who needs to give myself permission to be flexible.

When I drew up my goals for this month, I decided to incorporate time to read, relax and be creative (a bit ironic, I know) and to set aside time to specifically attack this list.


Things to do in May:

1. Spend an average of eight hours writing a week (I'm already behind. Sigh. I have started to edit the first draft of my novel, though, so that's something).

2. Do strength training at least twice every week (Did it once last week, so I'm behind there too).

3. Do an average of five hours of cardio every week (On track. Yay!)

4. Make soup twice (I've already made and eaten a big batch of sweet potato, red lentil and spinach soup).

5. Sort through my clothes (carried over from February, March and April - but I really do want to get this done).

6. Finish making summer plans for my family.

7. Go to at least one bike store and do some test rides (That should be fun. Also, my bike has started to make some pretty scary noises when I pedal or change gears).

8. Spend one afternoon every week doing something fun or relaxing (Last week, I spent part of Mothers' Day finishing Water for Elephants, which I loved reading. This week, I'll spend Thursday afternoon either reading or knitting. I need to make the space in my life to do the things that restore my energy and my creativity).

9. Finish one knitting project (I made a bunch of dish clothes and a dish towel for a friend and gave them to her, so this one's done already).

10. Spend one afternoon per week just dealing with this to-do list (last week it was Wednesday and this week it will be Wednesday, too).

Anyone else out there still working on the monthly list? How's it working for you?

haven't done this in a while

Haven't blown my own horn in at least a few weeks.

Alysa, who I met last year when she ran a wonderful workshop on writing your way through breast cancer (at the Living Beyond Breast Cancer conference for women living with metastatic breast cancer). I introduced myself and gave her my book.

Yesterday, Alysa emailed me to say that she'd written a review of my book for oncolink and that she thought it would make me smile.

It did.

10 things to do in april

This month, I actually wrote up my 10 things and posted them over at BlogHer on April 1st. And then, I let chemo and the long Passover/Easter weekend sidetrack me. I seem to be somewhat lacking in motivation on the blogging front these days. 

I have lots to say but I don't always feel like saying it.

Perhaps blogging should be on my list of May 'to-do's.

For now, though, here is how I did in March (completed in blue, partially done in green and not even started in purple):

 

1. Finish re-reading the draft of my novel (carried over from February). I discovered when I reached the end of the document that I had just stopped writing when I'd written the required 50,000 words. The story has no end. And needs some serious editing. That will be a goal for a future month.

2. Organize my clothes and my closet (carried over from February).

3. Graft the toes on the socks I'm knitting for my sister (carried over from February). It barely took an hour to finish these suckers. Should have done it ages ago. Now my sister will  have some nice wool socks, just in time for summer.

4. Do an average of 5 hours of cardio exercise every week (Revised from February).Really, this should almost be in blue. I fell short by less than an hour, so I'm pretty pleased with myself.

5. Make soup once. Sweet potato, spinach, red lentil. It was a recipe from my nutrionist (see below) and it was yummy.

6. Spend an average of 10 hours writing per week. I permitted myself to write this in green because I did do some writing in March but I didn't even come close to reaching my goal. I blogged 10 times and wrote in my journal with reasonable consistency but that was pretty much it.

7. Make and keep an appointment with a nutritionist to work out a plan to improve my diet, then follow it. I did do this one and have begun to make some changes to my diet. And, although I fell pretty much completely off the wagon over the long weekend, that was in April so it doesn't count.

8. Get my bike back on the road. It's been tuned up and ridden. When the weather is nice, I am going to continue to make my bike my main form of transportation.

9. Mend/wash/block my hand knit scarves. There are five of them. Three are mine and one is an unfinished present. None of them should take very long and it would give me a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Update: After stepping away from this and considering what I have on my plate, if I get two scarves done, I will be happy. I finished one. Now it needs to be delivered to the recipient.

10. Buy a swimsuit that fits (ugh). I tried on a couple of swimsuits but didn't find any that comfortably fit my long torsoed, plus-sized, one breasted body. I initially thought I would carry this one over to April but have changed my mind. This one's traumatic and will be a longer term project.

 

So that makes (more or less) 5 finished tasks, 4 partially completed and one not yet begun.

 

I'm really enjoying this process. I'm getting things done that I might not otherwise. It's gving me a sense of structure and accomplishment. 

 

Here is my list for April:

 

1. Write a first draft of the short story I've been kicking around (I have a writing buddy now, who's going to give me feedback. I have promised to deliver something for her to read by the end of the month).

2. Spend an average of eight hours writing per week (I'm already behind but it's not too late to catch up).

3. Do strength training at least once a week and continue with the five hours of cardio per week (I am on track with the cardio but have done one set of situps exactly once, so I need to get moving on the strength training).

4. Sort through my clothes (carried over from February and March).

5.Make summer plans for my family.

6. Brush my big (shedding) dog once a week and my smaller (non-shedding, tangling) dog every other day (the little dog has been brushed twice, which is probably twice more than she was groomed in March).

7. Update my Ravelry project page.

8. Finish another scarf.

9. Make soup twice (I have a jambalaya stew in the slow cooker right now).

10. Get a hair cut.

It's not too late to play along!

inside laurie's head

saying "no" to:

beating myself up

people who make me feel bad about myself

feeling ashamed

hiding from people who love me

giving into my fears

jealousy

Saying "yes" to:

spending time with the people who fill me up

reading for pleasure

tapping my own creative resources

trying new things

fun

talking to my Mom more often

giddy about:

all the great books that are available to read

the way my kids and spouse make me laugh until I cry

dog bellies and snouts

the potential of things I could knit

the thought that I am a Writer

scared of:

dying

not being able to read, or write, walk my dogs or play with my kids

writing fiction and discovering that I don't have the talent for it

anything bad happening to someone I love

deeply inspired by: 

beautiful prose

my sister

my friends

my kids

Lene

being in love

obsessed with:

the clutter in my house (not that I do anything about it)

wondering where the day goes

finding peanut and nut alternatives

thinking about things I could knit (as opposed to actual knitting)

tracking what books i read and planning what books i'm going to read next

Scrabble

in love with:

Tim

my boys

the dogs

feeling the sun on my face on a warm spring day

saved by:

blogging and my journal

world class health care

Tim

the people who love me

good chocolate

finding a reason every day to be happy.

and you?

Thanks to Mocha Momma and Dancing Mermaid for inspiring me to do this.