bye bye boobie, boobie good-bye

My sister-in-law was diagnosed with breast cancer during the latter part of 2009. Ironically, it was discovered when she opted to go for her H1N1 shot because she works with the public. I guess at the end of the day, some good came out of the swine flu scare. Regardless, it's been a few rough months for everyone with all the tests she's had to endure. Tomorrow is her surgery to remove the infected breast plus lymph nodes. On Friday, we decided to have a Kiss The Boob Good-bye party because we're twisted like that. I didn't invite my mom -

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's straight to hell I go ..."

But Tara, Aaron, Bob and Tasha and all their little baby bunnies were asked to come. My logic was that with all those rabbits running around, Ben and Josie wouldn't have time to dwell on their problems. What I wasn't expecting was for Ben to come in, take in all the bunnies and say they weren't staying. (Gawd, they're just short people!) In the end, they stayed for a few hours. (I'm guessing my brother just opted to pretend he was at the zoo and he might as well get his money's worth.)

Pics from the boob party -

If you look really hard, you'll see there's four kids in this picture. Jungle babies.

Claudia's perma look when Dora the Explorer is on TV.

No Kiss The Boob Good-bye party is complete without boobcakes. (Tara's idea.)

this and that

My mother phoned me two weeks ago and asked me to pick her up a bag of chicken thighs the next time I was at the farmer's market. My first thought was "hmmm .... normally she gets chicken legs" but I thought okay, I guess she wants thighs, so thighs it is. (Note to self - next time voice your thoughts out loud.) I picked the thighs up, plus some apples for her and then asked Tara if she'd deliver them seeing how she'd be seeing her before I would. A couple of days later my phone rang.

"Why did you get me thighs??????"

(Forget the "hi, how are you" stuff. I guess when you're 86 every second counts. Why bother with inane pleasantries, you know?)

"You told me to get you thighs, mom."

"I did not! I said get legs! I always get legs!"

"I know you always get legs. I was even wondering why you said thighs when I know you get legs."

"I did not say get thighs."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Mom. I heard you. You said thighs."

"Maybe I said DON'T get me thighs."

"No. You said GET me thighs."

"They were delicious."

"Huh? What was?"

"The thighs. I cooked them yesterday. They were delicious."

Somebody shoot me.

**********

Technically, the term would be perimenopausal. I call it Fuckinhell. (I would guess Jay calls it something worse but as long as I'm in Fuckinhell he ain't about to say shit.) This is, simply put, the worst period of a woman's life. I knew I was heading down a long road when I first started getting symptoms and found a site listing "the 35 symptoms of perimenopause." Excuse me? Thirty Five?????? My body now officially has a mind of its own. Can't sleep. Can't stay awake. Laughing one minute, crying the next. The whole world was aghast when they heard Tiger Wood's wife took a golf club to his head. Me? I got all excited. "Ooooh ... why didn't I think of that! We have so many golf clubs in the house!!!!" I aim for people who are stupid enough to walk out in front of me on the street. Jay hates getting in a car with me now.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Was what really necessary?"

"You aimed for them."

"They were in my way."

"Yes but you AIMED for them. You sped up and you AIMED for them."

"Maybe so, but did you see how quick they moved????"

And just as I'm thinking this is as bad as it's going to get, I get hit with hot flashes. Those elusive 'they' people claim that hot flashes are the number one complaint of menopause. Before they hit me I thought oh come on, there's gotta be worse. Boy, did I think wrong. I honestly thought it would feel like a July body and that'd be it. This isn't July. This is hell and Lucifer has you at the TOP of the bad person list. Keep in mind that it's winter in Canada. Jay is in sweats, a housecoat, socks and fuzzy slippers. His wife on the other hand is naked and dripping sweat. On the plus side though, this is one symptom that Jay doesn't complain about. My back, face, arms, or any visible body part has now become his own personal foot warmer.

Glad I can be of service.

**********

Some of us were born to be mothers. Some of us, aunts. Some of us were destined to care for goldfish and not too much more. I know now that I was born to be a grandmother. Nothing gives me as much pleasure as these grandbabies do. Tara and Aaron had some errands to run today and asked if we'd watch the girls for a few hours. As it always is, Jay belongs to Claudia and I belong to Eloise. And it works for us. Claudia is an extremely intelligent, extremely active, verbal bundle of energy. Perfect for Jay. Eloise on the other hand appears to be quite content to sit on my lap and not move until she's 18. And that works very well for me. When they had dropped the girls off, Eloise had just woken up from a nap so they brought her over in her pajamas. In due time I figured she was ready for a diaper change and I noticed that she had a wee bit of a red bottom. Of course as we all know, the best thing for a pink bum is air so I just let her run around without a diaper for the duration of the visit. At one point though, I saw her sitting on the floor and looking to be quite "busy" with her hands. Kinda like she was playing in a puddle of water.

"Awwww did grandma's girl pee????"

"*splash*"

"Look at you!! Having so much fun!!"

"Ellie peed on the floor grandma ..."

"Yeah I know."

"Put a diaper on her."

"That's kinda like locking the barn door after the horse has been stolen."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

What I didn't know was that the splashing was merely a prelude to what was about to come and that maybe I should have taken Claudia's advice. An hour later Ellie started making some pretty strange "Man, am I having FUN" noises.

"Whatcha doing .... oh dear God."

Eloise made her own play-doh. She's such a creative little thing.

Like I said, I love being a grandma.

tara vs. the asian hot sauce

Tara came over yesterday with the girls for a visit. Aaron - our rocket scientist in training son in law - was at school. After a fashion we decided that the girls were driving us insane and that we should go for a walk. Tara opted for the library - free, which is good because we're all broke - but instead I suggested the new Asian grocery store that just opened up around the corner which in a sense would also be free because what would two Polish girls find of interest in an Asian grocery store, right? Wrong. It started out innocently enough ...

"What's that green stuff?"

"I dunno."

"What's the package say?"

"Vegetable."

"Vegetable??"

"That's it. Vegetable."

"Holy. They don't even know what it is ..."

And from that point on we just started buying. (Clearly we have a "thing" for unidentifiable foods.)

"What's that?"

"No idea but it looks interesting."

"What have you got there?"

"Um. Corn in a potato chip bag?"

"Corn?"

"That's what it says. Corn. Even has a picture of corn on the front."

And then Tara saw it. Something she recognized. Sriracha sauce. The "must have" hot sauce of the century. Apparently, one is to "put it on everything" it's so good.

She saw it.
She bought it.
She put close to a tablespoon of it on a cracker.
She ate it.

Two hours later her mouth was still burning and I was still laughing.

And thanking God for separate bathrooms.

Oh. And for the record, we blew close to 30 bucks. And other than the hot sauce, we have no idea what we bought. But hey, the birds loved the corn in the potato chip bag.

**********

Claudia looking angelic.

Eloise feeding Chief a cookie.