I cannot go another minute without acknowledging the unprecedented generosity of you exquisite patriarchy-blamers who have sent me such diverting reading (and watching, and eating) material. Flea and Naomi and Kathleen and Andrea and Chris and Darky and Jenny and Liza and Stig and Jordan, thank you for Pyongyang, The Elements of Aviation, "Stage Door," the gift certificate to Powells, the outstanding chocolates, the gift certificate to Amazon, the Cajun In Your Pocket talking keychain, Female Chauvinist Pigs, the huge box of mystery paperbacks, the dragonfly photos, and the poem (don’t quit your day job, Jordan).
(Just kidding!)
Chemo infusions–doesn’t it sound romantic–commence in two weeks, and thanks to you guys I will have entertaining distractions to fill those lazy hours in the good old Barcalounger.
You’re welcome but since every post you do is all the thanks I want or need, it really isn’t necessary.
But I do need to know — what does the cajun keychain have to say for itself?
When its buttons are pressed, the Cajun Keychain issues such astute observations as “You gotta suck the head on dem dere crawfish!”
Ah, then it ought to be good for upsetting old biddies who don’t listen well.
Chemo might be no big deal or extremely trying. Because we each respond differently to having our system poisoned, we crave different comforts. Some years ago I did a wearable art show with some delightful NW artists and discovered polar fleece socks. I got a pair for myself and another for a friend who was undergoing chemo. She loved them and ordered more. Her reaction to the chemo was of crawly skin, couldnt stand the touch of anything rough. Cold feet too, thats why I got them for myself. My feet have been cold since 1946, April to be exact. Anyway, the socks have become so popular in this area they are being commercially made. I still get mine from a fabric artist in Seattle. If you post your size or email it to me I would like very much to send you some. Even if you don’t get the scritchy skin crawling off your body syndrome you could like them.
Chemo might be no big deal or extremely trying. Because we each respond differently to having our system poisoned, we crave different comforts. Some years ago I did a wearable art show with some delightful NW artists and discovered polar fleece socks. I got a pair for myself and another for a friend who was undergoing chemo. She loved them and ordered more. Her reaction to the chemo was of crawly skin, couldnt stand the touch of anything rough. Cold feet too, thats why I got them for myself. My feet have been cold since 1946, April to be exact. Anyway, the socks have become so popular in this area they are being commercially made. I still get mine from a fabric artist in Seattle. If you post your size or email it to me I would like very much to send you some. Even if you don’t get the scritchy skin crawling off your body syndrome you could like them.
well, i was too hopeful about the mail person. he took the books, but USPS sent them back. i will stand in line tomorrow.
yeah, rose is right about chemo — it’s different for everyone. xoxoxoo
Rose, I have size 8 feet. They have only been cold since Eisenhower was president but that’s still a pretty long time.
My first crawdad was at the old Way Out! It was New Years and there was a big plate of them. I had to try, and it was yet another of my bad decisions made at the old Way Out. Suck the head can suck my ass.
I will send a book as soon as I think of one appropriate. Book decisions like this are hard, like math!
You are very welcome! I admit to feeling a little guilty that your illness and my current obsession ran head-on into each other like this, but maybe you’ll like the book anyway.