"I'd Walk A Million Miles To Make Breast Cancer Go Away"

I heard a commercial today for the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk, and I so wish now that I'd started training and getting into shape earlier so that I could participate in the Walk this summer. What an amazing, noble cause. Breast cancer has touched two sorority sisters of mine, and I'm deathly afraid of it myself. I love it that the world community has embraced the fight for a cure, and that women aren't living in a climate of fear any longer...fear of stepping up and speaking up for their rights to live healthy lives. This commercial I heard today featured a man speaking, presumably about his wife who is sick with breast cancer. Sad. The commercial ends with him saying, "I'd walk a million miles to make breast cancer go away." Me too. Maybe next year E. and I can train for it together. I know she was very interested in doing it this summer, but she didn't train, either. So we'll see.

(Yes, I know I'm behind on blogging. And yes, as always, I'm sorry.)

What's new? Hmmm...well, it's been about a week since my last post here. Today's my father's birthday. I hate it that I can't be with him to celebrate today. The big group of us (Mom, Curtis, myself, Erin, and our dogs) all went in on two gifts for him. He's very much a Bob Dylan fan, and he absolutely is fascinated with history, especially as it pertains to wars (World War II, in particular). So Dad's gifts were, respectively, "Bob Dylan's CHRONICLES" audiobook and "Voices Of War: Stories Of Service From The Homefront And The Frontlines". We talked this morning and he loved the audiobooks, which did my heart good.

We're all well, discounting my "cold from hell" that will NOT go away. We've ordered some new beautiful furniture for Erin's room, and we're picking it up this weekend. Every little girl deserves to feel like a princess...and to live like one! We're going to completely re-do her room. I envision a lot of pink in the very near future! Maggy's doing well, too. She has her second doctor's appointment this weekend as well. Poor little thing's in for more shots and prodding and poking. Bless her heart. I got two EMAIL messages this week from two dear sorority sisters with whom I've not talked in ages, so that felt wonderful! I've also lost all patience and broke down and bought the leaflet for the 63 Squares Crochet-Along. I've completed ONE whole square! Go me! I've figured out how to upload photos from the digital camera to the PC, now I just need to find a photo hosting site and get them FTP'd (do people still use the term "FTP"?). I'll post a photo soon. Hang tight. I'm trying to convince my friend C(2). to do this with me, since she's a good crocheter, too. Wish me luck. In the meantime, I'm still no closer to finishing that damned afghan for our friends L. and P. I was hoping to get it finished in time to give it to them next month when I go home to Indy. We'll see.

We had a good time Friday night at our first "Girls' Night Out" of the 2005 year. Unfortunately, the cold and ice kept C. away from our soiree, and poor D(2). was still without power, so she wasn't able to make it. I've gotta hand it to these girls. They know a lot of cute Marines. And they let them know when (and where!) we are going when we go out. And, funny, they SHOW UP when we go out! I know, I know...I'm married. And I love the spousal unit. Truly. But it sure is fun to ogle and be ogled every so often. :) God, they all seem so young. They are young! Curtis and I were talking about it the other night, and we came to the "a-ha" (read: "oh fuck!") conclusion that this year marks the 15th anniversary of our high school graduation. DAMN, we're old.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I am having a Longaberger party on the 22nd? This is your e-invite to buy, buy, buy, buy. I need to have a big show so that I can get all my goodies at a reduced rate! (Oh yes, like you simply LIVE to throw lots of cash at overly-priced in-home parties juuuust so that Jen can have a successful show!) :) Because I know you're dying to know what I'm wanting to buy, check out the Small Baker's Rack and the Small Gathering Basket. These two are on sale as an ensemble, and I want, want, want. I've also got my eye on the Not-So-Lazy-Susan with the matching set of 4 Heritage Green Crescent Bowls. Since even before we were married, I have been collecting the Heritage Green pieces in the hopes of "one day" having an entire set. So here's yet another stop on that track. You know, I wonder why I am even doing this. I mean, I know why I am having this show. S. had a party and invited me, and I booked a show off hers. And I love the stuff...I mean, I can't help it. But Christ, the last THREE experiences I've had with Longaberger have not been good. I had a show last Christmas (that'd be Christmas of 2003 - God, that seems like forever ago!) and Longaberger sent me two defective items. My Large Pasta Bowl had a significant chip out of the bottom, and my poor Rectangular Tray arrived in pieces. In PIECES. So after numerous calls (from both myself and my consultant) to the Longaberger Home Office, replacements were sent. AND THEY WERE CHIPPED TOO. It took me the better part of the summer (of 2004, mind you) to get the items correct. They sent at least three shipments of sub-par items, which pissed me off in ways that I can't even say. You know, given that I've given them beaucoup dollars, you'd think that they'd at least make a better effort to quality-control their items. Anyway, back to the bitch at hand. Every year, I order Erin an Easter and a Christmas basket from Longaberger. Erin's 2004 Christmas basket was (one) not the one I ordered (I ordered the one with red trim and got a pure Warm Brown stained basket) and, even worse, (two) didn't have the little metal plate identifying the name and year of the basket. That's one of the major reasons I chose that Christmas basket to buy each year for Erin! It's annotated and she can easily see what year that basket came from! So, again, after nasty calls to Longaberger, another basket was sent. This one was correct, thank God, but I got it AFTER CHRISTMAS. (*sigh*) At S.'s show, I bought this adorable little three-item set of a Christmas dip bowl, matching dip spreader, and a yummy dip. The damned spreader broke. BROKE. On Christmas Day as I was serving my hungry family, my appetizer fell all to hell because the cute little spreader broke. GRRR. To my new consultant's credit, she sent me a replacement immediately, but again, it was after Christmas. So we'll see how this show turns out. If I get another batch of bad stuff, I think I'll contact the Better Business Bureau as well as the Ohio Attorney General (since they are located in Ohio). You know, it just occurred to me that my little rant here probably just convinced you (if you weren't so inclined already) NOT to buy from my show. Dammit.

Now that my D(2). has her power back on and is back at the office, she sent me a hilarious EMAIL that I just have to share with you:

Lizard Birthing Story

If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome
including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out
LOUD! Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. Here's what happened:

Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was
"something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.

"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can
you help?"

I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into
his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I
immediately knew what to do.

"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I
was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to
reproduce," I accused my wife.

"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she
inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)

"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most
loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).

"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she
informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?)

By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I
shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.

"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're
about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of
tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here,
too. Don't you?)

We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny
foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it
next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the
same results.

"Should I call 911," my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they
could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)

"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can
be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but his boy is of her
womb, for God's sake.)

The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little
animal through a magnifying glass."What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.

"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak
to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.

"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the Vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In
fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And
occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.

"Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just...just... excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle.
And then even laugh loudly. "What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.

Tears were now running down her face. "It's just...that... I'm picturing
you pulling on its... its...teeny little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter
once more. "That's enough," I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled the
lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.

"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.

2 - Lizards - $140...
1 - Cage - $50...
Trip to the Vet - $30...
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's wacker.....Priceless

And on that note of hilarity, I'm out. Later!