Mixed Bag

I just finished my fourth and last treatment of red sunshine. This alone is a cause for celebration since it has the reputation for being the more vicious of the 2 regimens I will take. Further, my oncologist was very happy with the ongoing diminishment of the tumor and in fact said, "woo-hoo," in response. And yet, I'm really down. Tired maybe, and bloated feeling in all this heat. I realize that I tend to have a flourish with words but I search for the word to describe my inner state, the word I come up with i...s persecuted. If I was in a Harry Potter movie, I'd equate the infusions with howlers; a newsflash that all will not be well for several days. But oh well, right? I always remind my kids; things change like weather. The only thing we can reasonably predict is change, if not day to day then certainly week to week. Even when you want to hang onto a mood or a physical state, it will inevitably  float away... like a kite, beyond your reach. If you are going to acknowledge and honor your emotional life, you have to live with this truth.

So I'm thinking of trying a little cognitive behavioral trick for myself and posting happy things.

I had a really great birthday. I got to see Paula Poundstone live. She talked about obsessive compulsive disorder and how one manifestation of the disease is getting a song stuck in your head. In her case, she's had the song, "Billy, Don't Be A Hero," in her head for 30 years. Evidently, you don't get to pick the song. Above I've posted the sweetest birthday card in the world from family and friends... thanks!

Also, the best news...I'm happy to report that the robins hatched the day before we returned from what my son once termed, 'cation. I've waited to take a photo because at first they appeared as a pulsing mass of prehistoric life tissue. It was ugly. But they have matured and are now at the stage where they lift their beaks when they hear noise. Just like real babies, one minute they are scootching and fussing and squeaking and then next minute they are passed out to the point of appearing comatose. I'm trying to reisist my own obsessive compulsive urges and stop visiting the nest fifteen times a day. Anyway, pretty great, huh?

And this just in... my darling girl got the camper's award at her UNH Volleyball Camp this week for the second year in a row. She played volleyball from 9 am to 9 pm, 4 consecutive days and worked her little buns off. When the coaches provided a setter's clinic during lunch break, she was one of 4 campers to attend. Even before she got the award, I was feeling so proud of her. How she packed and prepared herself for the week, how she was up on time, ready, and based on feedback from coaches, how she supported her teammates. What a kid. I know it sounds like I'm boasting and maybe I am. But I don't take credit. I've always kind of scratched my head at her-- she came to me as one little contained unit of toughness, discretion and developing personhood. It's been my privilege to be her witness.

Tomorrow is a new day. Thanks for reading. Again.

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