Jenster's Musings

Snow Time

2009-12-05T17:59:00.007-05:00

I had to take some pictures of the first snow of the season which also means I had to post them (including the obligatory Sookie picture).

Home Improvement

2009-12-04T18:04:00.006-05:00

I think that term is a little misleading. It suggests that the home would be improved with whatever work is being done. I'm still working on the dining room and at this moment there is no improvement. In fact, it seems to be going quickly down hill.

I finally got all the wallpaper off, but there was a lot of gummy stuff left so I tried to wash it off. That just made it stickier so I tried to sand it off. Meh. I patched the holes and then sanded again and then washed again. These were some clean walls! Once they dried there was no more gumminess so I was ready for the next step.

Priming. What a pain in the rear. I don't like priming. That stuff is oily and icky and even the "odorless" primer is odorful, just not as bad as the odery stuff. That's not really a problem, though, because I like the smell. I also like the smell of markers and glue and even diesel and cigar smoke mixed together. Now that I think about it, this strange fondness for certain chemical smells explains a lot about my brain. But I digress.

I finished priming both the top and the bottom of the dining room this afternoon. Next I was going to start painting the woodwork and there's a lot of it: crown molding; chair rail; baseboards; a fairly large window; and two doorways. I was thrilled the other day when I found the leftover trim paint in the basement. But when I opened it at 5:50 or so I discovered very old paint with crumbly bits of black rusty stuff mixed in it. That left me a little disheartened, but at least I have the color recipe. Unfortunately Sherwin Williams closes at 6:00. Looks like no more work in the dining room until I can get the trim paint tomorrow. Guess I'll just hang with three-fourths of the family instead.

It now appears that I won't be actually painting until next weekend. Then maybe I can get the rest of the dining room furniture out of the living room and make the house look a little like Christmas. And maybe then my home will be improved.

Christmas Letters

2009-12-01T17:08:00.003-05:00

I've been working on my ~~annual~~ sporadic Christmas letter. There's a fine line between sharing the banner moments and bragging. Of course some of that is due to the perceptions of the reader, but sometimes those yearly letters are blatantly pompous. In an effort to keep mine as humble as I can I thought I'd share what I've written with you, my very good and honest friends, for your opinions before I send it out.

Dear Friends and Family,

How are you? I am perfect. My children are perfect. My husband is perfect. My marriage is perfect. My dog is perfect. My bank account is perfect. My home is Better Homes and Garden perfect.

My clothes are perfect. My hair is perfect. My weather is always perfect. My singing is perfect. My temperament is perfect. My parenting is perfect. My life is perfect.

May your 2010 be half as perfect as my 2009.

With all the love in my perfect heart,
Jenster

So what do you think?

Expanding My Mind... Groovy...

2009-11-29T19:16:00.011-05:00

Thanksgiving vacation is quickly coming to an end. Five days in a row of sleeping past 8:00 will be a thing of the past until Christmas break. Tomorrow will be the beginning of just another week and life will resume its routine.

Our friends, the Stenmans, invited us to share Thanksgiving with them since we don't have any family around here and we were happy to accept. The food was delicious and the company was so enjoyable. After dinner some of us played Bananagrams:

Have you played it yet? It's like Scrabble only better. I love Scrabble, but it can get tedious while you're waiting for your turn. (I never claimed to be incredibly patient.) But you're on your own when you play Bananagrams so you don't have to wait on anyone! (I think somebody in my family should get it for Christmas.) Not only did I leave the Stenman's feeling pleasantly full and happy at spending a nice day with them, I think I may have left a little smarter, too.

Friday and Saturday were spent baking, cleaning the kitchen and working in the dining room. Katie and I were able to prime above the chair rail and I'm hoping to get the bottom part primed this week. I'm going to have to re-paint all the woodwork, which I'm pretty sure is going to be a pain in the rear, and my plan is to start painting next weekend. We'll just have to see how that pans out. By the way - I love the smell of primer and mineral spirits. I just hope they didn't kill any new brain cells I may have amassed at the Stenman's Thursday.

Today was an enriching day at the theater. I mentioned about a month ago that Katie and her friend, Alexis, sang "Sisters" for their voice recital. It turns out that the Broadway production of White Christmas is currently in Philadelphia.

So Katie, Lexie and I left church after first service, had an early lunch at the King of Prussia Chili's and then headed into Philly for a matinee. (If you'd like to see what we saw on our drive into the city you can reference my last post. And just for the record - I did not take any of those pictures, though I wish I could take credit. I just got them off of Google Images.)

Our seats were in the very last row of the beautiful old theater. It doesn't look nearly as tall from the outside as it feels when you're walking up, up, up the stairs. And the actors' faces were pretty fuzzy from way up there, kind of like when they block out faces on the television to protect their identities.

Still, it did provide a different view. For example, we got to see the beautiful chandelier from the top before they raised it for the performance.

The play itself was delightful, even if we couldn't make out any features on the cast. Katie and Lexie enjoyed it and they held back when "Sisters" was sung on stage. I was a little worried they might get up and sing with the performers!

After the play we walked a block or so down Broad Street and got our overpriced beverage and pastry on at Starbucks. (No, I'm not dissing Starbucks. I'm just telling it like it is.) Then it was time to come home. Who knew the Eagles were in town today? I didn't. And I chose the wrong route to come home and ended up in horrendous traffic. Heinously horrendous!

But we did finally make it home and we're enjoying the last couple hours of our break by eating chocolate crinkles and watching "The Amazing Race". Well, the family is watching "The Amazing Race". I'm typing. Obviously. I just hope that all this culture and brain calisthenics will make me sharper tomorrow at work.

Incessant Babbling

2009-11-22T18:44:00.021-05:00

Time for another random "what's been going on" post!

***

Wednesday morning I drove Todd to 30th Street Station in Philadelphia so he could catch the train to DC. Traffic was normal week-morning traffic. That is to say it was horrendous. But I had a 20 ounce cup of coffee, good music on the iPod and fabulous, uninterrupted conversation with Todd. I guess enjoying being stuck in traffic with my husband for an hour and a half just means we really need to get out more.

The drive is pretty as it winds through hilly Conshohocken and Manayunk with the Schuylkill River on one side and low cliffs of black rock and forest on the other. Across the river are beautiful 200 year old churches with tall steeples and stone bridges with big arches. Eventually the rocks give way to Fairmount Park, a 9,300 acre park system made up of 63 different parks including the oldest zoo in the country, Philadelphia Zoo. And then (and this is my favorite part) there’s a bend in the road and the city comes into view in the distance. But first you pass the historical architecture of Boathouse Row, the Philadelphia Water Works and the Philadelphia Museum of Art with the modern skyline of Philly just beyond. It’s one of my favorite views and it never seems to get old.

***

My thirty-fourteenth birthday was Thursday. In my mind it’s just another day because thirty-fourteen isn’t a milestone year. Not only that, but it wasn’t the best day for a celebration. Todd was out of town and we had day one of our Thanksgiving Feast at preschool (I now know that food service isn’t my gift either). The Feast was fun but both Leanne and I had tired feet by the time we left.

That morning before I left for work the kids brought me my present from Todd. It was An Echo In The Bone by Diana Gabaldon and is book 7 of one of the best series ever. If you don’t know anything about the Outlander series, let me just tell you this. It’s all consuming and the books are long. It is an investment in time, but so worth it. The shortest book is the first one (Outlander) and it’s around 600 pages long. I usually read the entire series before each new book is released, but didn’t make it this time because my reading mojo is gone. So I’ve started AEITB and I feel like I’m getting to visit with long lost friends. I hope to read the entire series all over once I finish AEITB.

When I got home from work I received another present from the kids. A gift bag full of coffee samples, Mrs. Fields’ truffles and a purse-size 2010 planner. One of the coffee flavors was Jack Daniels’ and my smarty-pants son told me the next morning, “Now you don’t have to put whiskey in your coffee before you go to work, Mom.” They also ran to Wendy’s and got dinner for us so I didn’t have to cook. Then we watched our DVR’d Glee and Castle and it was lovely.

***

The other night I was trying to microwave potatoes and after they had cooked for 6 minutes I took them out to stir, returned the bowl and hit 6 minutes again. This time the appliance made a horrible sound so we decided cooking them on the stove top would be better. Fast forward a couple of days. We hadn’t used the microwave and I decided to give it a go. I thought maybe it had been the turntable doing something wonky. So I put in a cup of cold coffee to reheat and hit 1 minute. It still made the horrible sound so Sookie and I stood on the other side of the refrigerator just in case it blew up. Thankfully there were no sparks and no smoke, just a beeping when the minute was up. Unfortunately the coffee was still cold. So it looks like we need a new microwave. Just what I want to spend our money on this time of year. How long do you think we can live without one? I sort of remember life before their existence. Back when we had a rotary dial on the phone and four channels on the TV. I guess that means real popcorn over the stove, too. Oy!

***

Last, but definitely not least, Todd and I just saw a preview of the season opener for Chuck!! Now I can't wait for January!

Are You Kidding Me??

2009-11-17T20:06:00.006-05:00

I'm hopping mad about the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force's new recommendations on mammography and other excrement concerning breast cancer screening. These new guidelines seriously make me nauseous.

1. No mammograms until 50 and then only every other year.

* Because false positive mammograms cause undo anxiety and unnecessary biopsies.

Please forgive my insensitivity, but so-freakin-what! Isn't one woman's life worth just a little bit more than another woman's temporary anxiety? Not only that, but some mammograms scream CANCER! My oncologist took one look at my films and gave me a 95% probability of a malignancy.

Oncologist Mary Daly, chair of the clinical genetics department at Fox Chase Cancer Center in Philadelphia, said the reevaluation was flawed by its reliance on data from outmoded technology, namely film mammography. Digital mammograms, the new standard, have reduced the false-positive rate in women under 50.

* While annual mammography for all women beginning at age 40 reduced the death rate from breast cancer by at least 15 percent, the modeling studies showed the added benefit of starting before age 50 was modest, the researchers found.

Apparently the modest number of lives saved by annual mammography before 50 isn't worth anxiety and unnecessary biopsies in false-positive women.

* "... Petitti said. "Then there's the whole other line of problems that come into play, which is where there are some breast cancers detected that grow very slowly and would never have killed you."

But what about the very aggressive breast cancers, usually found in YOUNGER WOMEN? Those women have a much better chance of long-term survival when that cancer is found early.

And what about those women over 50 who have routine mammograms every year? My mother, for example. Her cancer was aggressive and if she hadn't had a mammogram until the following year there's no telling how far it would have spread.

2. [the task force] concludes that there is insufficient evidence to continue routine mammograms beyond age 74.

My mother was 73 when her cancer was found! So according to these guidelines, if her routine mammogram had been later in the year, like maybe AFTER she had turned 74, her cancer wouldn't have been found until it was much too late. What sense does this make???

3. The task force's new guidelines... also recommend against teaching women to do regular self-exams of their breasts.

Where's a punching bag when I really need one? This one slays me because here's the deal. Under the old guidelines, routine mammograms didn't start until age 40 because younger, denser breasts make it more difficult to interpret changes in the tissue. I was under 40 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Why? Because I just happened to be the patient of the best gynecologist in the entire world and he taught me how to do self-exams so I found my cancer early enough to treat it successfully. Even at that it had spread to my lymph nodes and was stage 2a, so what if I had waited until I was 40? My chances of recurrence would have greatly increased.

The whole thing just makes me want to cry. I feel like we've taken two steps back and I worry what this will mean for women. Breast cancer is the second leading cause of cancer deaths in women, but the statistics have been getting increasingly better due to early detection. I'm so afraid of a backslide because of these new guidelines.

So pardon me while I drag my soap box over here and climb on.

Ladies - know your breasts!! Husbands - know your wives breasts!! Contact your doctor if you notice any of the following:

- A lump that stays the same size throughout your cycle or gets bigger
Breast changes:
- Thickening
- Swelling
- Distortion
- Tenderness
- Skin irritation
- Redness
- Scaliness
- Peau d’orange (dimpled skin resembling an orange peel)
Nipple abnormalities:
- Ulceration
- Retraction
- Spontaneous discharge

Don't freak out because chances are you don't have cancer. But don't you think it's worth a little anxiety and a needle in your boob to be safe rather than sorry?

And feel free to thumb your nose at the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force.

*Italicized sections taken from the Washington Post, Tuesday, November 17, 2009.

To Write Love On Her Arms

2009-11-14T16:03:00.007-05:00

Yesterday thousands upon thousands of teenagers wrote the word "Love" on their arms in support of the non-profit movement To Write Love On Her Arms. TWLOHA was started on MySpace with this statement:

To Write Love on Her Arms is a work in progress. This began with one broken girl, one painful night; addiction, depression, cutting. This is a glimpse at the five days that followed, a decision to love and to begin telling her true story. To Write Love on Her Arms is becoming something bigger, something hopeful. It's the realization of what life can be when we commit to meeting a need. A friend of mine told me there's no such thing as suicide prevention. This is an attempt to prove him wrong, to say that love can change a life. We can hold back the darkness. Rescue is possible.

The point is to love people wherever they are. Kids can be so mean to each other without any thought as to the damage they might be inflicting. Depression is rampant in teenagers, suicide is the leading cause of death in 18-24 year olds and cutting (self-mutilation) is on the rise. I have to wonder how those statistics would change if we all just loved each other, especially kids and young adults. Would the fact that these "high risk" people felt accepted and worthy change their habits? Would they be more likely to get help for their depression? Would the feeling of hope replace the need to cut their arms with a razor to feel something? I personally have no idea. But I do know it couldn't hurt.

So the thought of hundreds of thousands of teenagers across the country writing "Love" on their arms to tell their peers that they are important blows me away. We're always hearing about horrible teenagers, but there are a whole lot of wonderful kids who genuinely care about others. I don't particularly like it when my kids write on themselves, but I figured this time it was worth a picture. I just hope and pray that every single person who decorated their arm yesterday means it from their heart. No more belittling others, only encouraging.

If you want to know more about TWLOHA you can find information on their website here. And if you want to know where it all started you can read the following. It will break your heart even as you feel the hope building.

To Write Love On Her Arms

Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."

I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.

Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.

She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.

The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.

She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.

I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes. Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show.

She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies.

On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.

Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired.

After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff.

She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life.

As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."

I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.

I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.

High Quality Entertainment

2009-11-12T19:55:00.010-05:00

I'm not a huge fan of television - I think it wastes brain cells and steals time, neither of which I have a large supply of - so I don't get into very many shows. In fact I limit the number of programs I'll allow myself to obsess over.

So what am I obsessing over right now? Only two of the best shows EVER.

My absolute favorite right now is Castle. It might even be my absolute favorite ever. And because I adore this show so much I'm always surprised at how many people have never even heard of it.

Richard Castle is a charismatic man and extremely successful mystery writer. His mother (a former Broadway star) and his teenage daughter (much more mature and grounded than either of the adults) live with him and the relationships between the three is precious. Kate Beckett is a tough, but compassionate homicide detective who has to "put up" with Castle because of a request from the mayor. She's loathe to admit what a huge fan of his books she is and even more dismissive of her growing feelings for him.

People, I'm telling you. This show is pure delight. Nathan Fillion plays Castle and he is perfect in the role of charming rogue with just the right mix of self-deprecation and conceit. Stana Katic is ideal as Detective Beckett. And they are so much fun together!

I'm telling ya, best show ever! (Monday nights at 10:00 Eastern on ABC)

And the second best show is...

GLEE. Okay. So it's not exactly high quality entertainment as my title suggests. But the songs are awesome and the arrangements are brilliant! Some of the plots go from a bit silly to flat out ridiculous, but that's part of it's attraction. It's fairly goofy with a serious issue here and there.

You can watch it on Wednesday nights at 9:00 Eastern on Fox OR you can DVR it (like we do) and watch it any time you want.

There are other shows I enjoy watching, but I would happily give up all television as long as I still get to watch Castle and Glee. Until January. Then I'll have to throw in Chuck, too.

Valley Forge, October 25, 2009

2009-11-09T21:51:00.020-05:00

Sunday, October 25th was another beautiful day. So I grabbed Precious, loaded Sookie in the car and took off for Valley Forge. It's so pretty and serene and I always come away feeling rejuvinated and just a little closer to God.

And that's all I've got to say about that. Instead I'll let the pictures speak.

Playing Catch Up

2009-11-08T08:39:00.007-05:00

I can’t believe I haven’t posted anything in over three weeks. I haven’t read any blogs in that time, either. (I’m not a very good bloggy friend.) So here’s a synopsis of what’s been going on around here.

Katie turned 15 on October 24. Fifteen. As in oh-my-goodness-my-baby-is-so-not-a-baby-anymore. I know I sound like a broken record, but how does that happen?? Crimanetly! That same day she was in a voice recital and sang beautifully. Okay. So I’m her mom and I’m a little biased. A lot biased. But she did a lovely job singing Castle on a Cloud from Les Miserables and she and her friend, Lexie, were cute when they sang Sisters from White Christmas. In fact everybody did a great job. Little Devlin was adorable in her glittery dress as she sang Let’s Get Together from Parent Trap and some of the other singers really were phenomenal. I can hardly wait for the next recital. The teacher, Katie, may not be in such a rush because I know it was a lot of work for her. But she organized and put on a great show.

***

The other morning I was putting our dinner together in the crock pot and it called for a cup (or a cup+) of white wine. Todd came walking in the kitchen as I was uncorking the bottle and gave me a look. You know that look. The one that says, Have you lost your ever lovin’ mind? I just kept at my task and told him I forgot to make coffee and I needed something to get me through the day. Then I had this thought. What if the cork was difficult to pull out and when I finally managed to dislodge it I spilled wine all over me? I wouldn’t have time to change so I would have to go to work smelling like alcohol. For a preschool. At a church. Thankfully that didn’t happen so I went to work smelling like my usual self – whatever that is. Hopefully not bad, but you know how it’s hard to smell yourself and people are too nice to tell you if you’re odiferous. Especially at a preschool in a church. Except for kids that age are very honest and I think if I smelled bad one of the kids would have mentioned it by now. Then again, I’m not really that close to the kids on a regular basis. But I do shower every morning so I can’t imagine I smell too awfully bad. But I digress.

As I turned the corner from the stairway to the offices I saw Leanne, the Preschool Director, sitting at a table with a bunch of paperwork and a strange man. Let me rephrase. A man who was a stranger. I don’t know if he was strange or not. But anyway, it turns out he was the State Inspector who dropped by for a surprise visit. And do you know what my first thought was? Thank you, Jesus, that I didn’t spill wine on my clothes this morning! ‘Cause, you know, if I had walked by him smelling like a ~~Wharf Licker~~ wino he might have been disinclined to pass us with flying colors. But pass us he did – and with those flying colors I mentioned – because we have the best preschool in the area, if not the state, if not the entire country – maybe even the world. Just sayin’.

***

Several years ago Todd had hair. Then one summer he agreed to play Pharaoh in our church’s VBS dramatization of the story of Moses. So he channeled his inner Yul Brenner and shaved his head, much to the surprise of just about everyone. It was priceless. He had this big headpiece on so no one had any idea. Then he got mad at Moses and threw his headpiece on the ground, revealing his bald head to everyone in the audience. The corporate gasp was priceless. So was the small scream 3-year-old Katie let out when she saw her daddy without his hair. He made a great Pharaoh and even threw in an Etcetera, etcetera, and so forth every now and again which was really funny considering it was the wrong Yul Brenner movie altogether.

From then on he never let his hair grow more than a quarter of an inch. He decided it was so much easier for me just to trim his hair every now and again. Then finally, about a year ago, he went back to the Mr. Clean look. He uses Head Blade products to shave his scalp and then buff his head to a nice sheen. The other day, however, he not only shaved his scalp, he scalped his scalp. Took two honkin’ chunks out of the top of his head. I had to cut a flap of skin off one of the chunks! Of course, since these were on the top of his head they bled like a stuck pig, though I don't really know exactly what that means other than to say they bled a lot. So I had to put bandaids on his head, too. Lucky for him it was cold enough to wear a hat! But he’s going to have to let his hair grow some now because he can’t shave until his head is completely healed. Oh, the irony…

***

Today was absolutely beautiful. Sunny, blue skies and low 60’s made it perfect for a walk in the woods. So Sookie and I walked for a little over two miles on the Perkiomen trail. One of the things I love about living where we do is all the trails around here. The Perkiomen trail is the closest to us and it follows the Perkiomen Creek, meandering through beautiful woods and alongside the ski slopes of Spring Mountain. There were a lot of bikers and almost as many walkers or runners today, but also we came across two different groups of horseback riders. Sookie had never seen horses up close and personal and I was a little concerned she might start her vicious I’m really afraid of you but I’m going to stand my hackles on end and snarl at you so you might think I’m a coyote thing, but she didn’t. Instead she slunk down to the ground and weaseled her way behind me. But as soon as the horses passed she decided they looked like they might be fun to chase. I finally had to stop and let the horses get out of sight because she wasn’t heeling very well.

When we got back from walking, Todd took her over to Brady’s house and I joined up with him soon thereafter. The dogs ran and jumped and nipped and played and did their peeing rituals (where one of them pees and the other one sniffs the area and then pees on top of it) while Todd and I visited with Bill and Laura. I left early to go home and make dinner and when Todd and Sookie got home she was one pooped puppy. Just the way I like her!

***

So there you have it. A few things that have happened since my last post. I can't promise when my next post will be because I want to make some blog rounds, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to wipe out my Google Reader and start over. I hate doing that because I'm so afraid I will have missed something really great or important, but I'm too far behind to catch up.

Until next time...

The Latest

2009-10-16T10:04:00.002-04:00

Saturday has now been cancelled as well. Todd and I are going to make the best of today. Lunch out, a movie and then the Phillies/Dodgers game this afternoon. We're also considering sleeping in our new sleeping bags tonight! On top of the bed, of course.

The Poconos - just north of us - have received over 4 inches of snow in some parts - a new record for this early in the season. They closed and were salting Kelly Drive in Philadelphia this morning because there were some icy slick spots. The air temps weren't quite freezing, but the road was cold enough to ice up in areas.

So again, as disappointed as I am about missing out on the experience, I'm glad they had the foresight to cancel. Makes me want to try it again next year!

A Mix of Emotions

2009-10-15T20:10:00.009-04:00

I was so proud of myself this afternoon. After leaving work early I ran by Target to buy a few last minute items including exercise pants in an attempt to keep my legs halfway warm this weekend. I packed up my duffel bag with all my goodies - even my sleeping bag, an air mattress, two tarps and a small, rechargeable air compressor - and it all came in at 33 pounds.

Todd and I also kept a watch on the weather and the 3-Day website and it was looking dismal. The weather kept looking worse and nothing was being said about alternative plans on the website. So I finished packing, had a nice family dinner, watched last night's GLEE on the DVR and got ready to leave for the hotel where we would be starting our adventure tomorrow morning.

As I stood there with my 33 pound duffel bag/back pack on my shoulders thinking, Dang! This sure feels more like 50 pounds!, Tina called to wish us good luck. She also wanted us to know that if we chose not to walk in the Nor'easter nobody would think ill of us, which I greatly appreciated.

Once again we got on-line to check the weather and the website. The high for tomorrow had dropped since the last time I had looked - down to 41 with a chill factor of 32. I started to have second thoughts because we really don't have the appropriate clothing for those types of temperatures. We then went to the website and found this:

October 16-18, 2009

In light of the extreme cold, windy and wet weather conditions the Philadelphia Breast Cancer 3-Day Opening Ceremony (previously scheduled for Friday morning at 7 a.m. at Willow Grove Park Mall) and the first day of walking have been cancelled.

As organizers of the event, our main priority is to ensure the safety and welfare of our participants. After consultation with medical and safety experts, a delay of the event was determined to be the most appropriate action.

I wanted to go "whew" and "nuts" all at the same time. (Would that be "whuts"?) I'm very disappointed that we're not going to get to have the whole experience. But I'm also relieved that the decision to go or stay was made for us. That would be because the Reverend Terri Stone told me she would pray for the right decision. Thanks Terri!

We're supposed to keep checking with the website to see what the plan is after tomorrow. I'll be sure to let you know!

Almost Walkin' Time

2009-10-14T20:19:00.011-04:00

Todd and I are nearly all packed up and ready for our three day adventure. The hardest part right now is making sure our duffel bags don't weigh any more than 35 pounds. Sounds easy, but when you have to put in a sleeping bag and an air mattress (because I'm NOT sleeping on the ground) it adds up.

October is usually such a beautiful month and a perfect time for walking six or sixty miles. Right? Except we're expecting a nor'easter this weekend.

Friday

High of 48

Saturday

High of 48

Sunday

High of 52

No biggy. What's a little water and low temps compared to a cure for cancer? That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

How about these encouraging words on the white board calendar at work?

And this is to let everyone know why I won't be at work on Monday.

Thanks, Kelly!! :o)

Trippin' Through Genesis 7

2009-10-11T16:24:00.002-04:00

There are a couple trippy things in chapter 7. Just click on the picture and see for yourself!

It's Been A Jenster Week

2009-10-08T17:21:00.014-04:00

THE EVOLUTION OF CAKE

Tuesday night was the first get together of the school year for my student small group. Katie and I decided we'd bake a celebratory cake for the occasion, but not just any cake. No. We decided to get a little wild and crazy so we baked one vanilla cake in two rounds and one chocolate cake in two rounds on Monday evening. Katie crumb sealed them with butter cream and we put them in the refrigerator to set.

Tuesday she put a regular layer of the butter cream on three of the layers and made a raspberry filling. We then stacked them vanilla, chocolate, vanilla and chocolate.

Four layers may have been a bit much because the cake started slipping and sliding and looked more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa so we had to brace it with chopsticks.

And then we frosted it. Or attempted to frost it.

It kept getting uglier and uglier.

Until it finally looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Or a horror movie.

THE EXTINCTION OF CAKE

Just like it's true you can't judge a book by its cover, neither can you judge a cake by its frosting.

The fact that the ugly behemoth is nearly gone is testament to a delicious confection!

Todd was out of town so Taylor ran to the store for vanilla ice cream to accompany the cake while the girls and I did our thing. I thought to myself how great it was that I could give him a little cash and send him on his way to run this errand for me.

Until the next morning when I went to get in the car and it was wet inside. He left the sunroof open all night and it had rained.

"The Feed" Follow Up

2009-10-04T21:13:00.003-04:00

It's over. It wasn't quite as bad as I was afraid it would be, but then again I only watched it with my peripheral vision so I couldn't see me very well. I even motivated a friend to come to church just so she could see me. I'm afraid she was a little disappointed because, in her words, "I was expecting to see like big old nose hairs coming out of you or something . . ."

Well thank goodness there were no big old nose hairs. And I didn't hear anybody yell anything about facial hair, tacky clothes or one-inch roots. It was church, after all, and if people are going to be nice anywhere it should be there. Right?

I told my boss that if there's ever a next time I would like a little notice so I could consult my stylist.

Trippin' Through Genesis 6

2009-10-04T16:35:00.006-04:00

More Than You Wanted To Know

2009-09-30T18:26:00.010-04:00

I have this problem. It's a very serious problem and I've had it for as long as I can remember. I tell things that I shouldn't. Not about other people. I'm really good at keeping those kinds of things to myself. No, I tell things about myself that I shouldn't. A good example would be when I was complimented on a new dress at work several years ago I said, "Thanks! I got it for $5.00 at the Goodwill!" Those of you who have been reading my blog for the last three years or so are probably thinking about the posts I wrote about my breast reconstruction and nipple tattoos. That may have been TMI as well, but I don't know how to stop and this post is just going to be more of the same.

This morning as I was fixing my coif I thought to myself, "Self, you really need to call Darlene about those roots." Or if I was His Girl I would say that I'm in desperate need of some hairapy. Before I left for work I told Todd I was going to spend some time grooming tonight. You know: plucking the eye brows; waxing the lip; maybe masking to get rid of the zit that popped up last night. That sort of thing.

As for my wardrobe, well, I just wore one of my usual comfy v-neck tees, jeans and my Crocs because they're about the only shoes that don't bother my blisters (another post for another day).

So I get to work and the Children's Ministry team is having their weekly meeting and they're all looking sharp. Of course, they're all young and pretty and always look good even when they're wearing something like, oh, I don't know. A t-shirt, jeans and Crocs. But today it was nice make up, great hair, cute outfits. Sharp. Then I remember they're shooting The Feed, a video announcement for Sunday mornings.

I'm standing at the copier making -- can you guess? -- copies, while the girls are talking to Dave, the videographer, about the video details. Then I hear my name and see all these slightly sinister smiles directed toward me. Turns out there were seven announcements and only six ministry leaders.

I tried to ignore them and kept copying, hoping and praying they would forget about me and go about their business. But no such luck. Now I'm going to have to witness all my flaws on the big screen Sunday morning. *cough* I feel a cold coming on. I'm afraid of hearing something like, "Man, that chick needs a shave," or some such.

And the worst part? I've just given a ton of people something to look for on Sunday morning. Why? Because I can't keep my yapper shut! Or my fingers still.

Oh well. I much prefer to be behind the scenes, writing a script or something like that. But it's all good. I'm just working for Jesus, keeping it real. Know what I mean?

The Neighborhood Street Walkers

2009-09-24T08:05:00.004-04:00

Every morning as I leave for work I pass the neighborhood women, and the few men, who stand on the corner after walking the streets. Men and women of the oldest profession. Parenthood. "But Jenster, people don't get paid for being parents so it can't be a profession." Au contraire, mon frere. Parents may not receive cash for their efforts, but they do receive cards and home made gifts and kisses and hugs... it's more like a bartering system.

Sometimes I stop in the middle of the street, roll down my window and chat for a few minutes and sometimes I just slowly drive by, waiving furiously and hoping I didn't miss anybody. I would hate for somebody to feel left out. And then I drive off, feeling a little bit sad because that has never been part of my world.

When my kids were in elementary school I drove them every morning because I refused to let them ride the bus. Where we lived in Arkansas there was one bus for each neighborhood which meant my kindergartner and third grader would have ridden to school with the high school kids. I'm all about educating our children, but not THAT much.

By the time we moved up here I had a high schooler and a middle schooler and that first year I still was having a very hard time getting out of bed and moving in the morning. So there was very little street walking and corner-hanging-out going on for me.

I've decided, however, that I'm going to start being a part-time street walker. On Friday mornings, my days off, I'm going to walk up the street with Sookie (the corner usually looks like a dog park) and hang out on the corner, plying my trade in the form of, "When my kids did that I would ____", and then come home and head to my Bible study.

Then I, too, will be a neighborhood street walker!

Another Six Months

2009-09-16T22:27:00.003-04:00

So I saw the White Russian today. As doctor’s appointments go it was fairly pleasant. My biggest complaint every time I go is that they’re too prompt and I don’t get to read nearly as much in the waiting room as I’d like to. Which was a crying shame today because I’m reading this fabulous book that Laurie Kingston, a Mothers With Cancer friend of mine, wrote: Not Done Yet: Living Through Breast Cancer. She started a blog at the time of her breast cancer diagnosis and the book is a compilation of her posts. I’ll be doing a complete review when I finish, but suffice it to say I’m thoroughly enjoying it. Kind of a weird thing to say considering it’s about her experience with breast cancer, isn't it? But she’s funny and her way of dealing with things strongly resonates with me. And that’s all you get until I finish, which could have been today if the oncologist’s office was just a little less efficient.

On the way back to the scale I asked the nurse if I could just tell her how much I weighed and if so, I’m 125. She answered with, “So am I. But you’re going to have to stand on the scale anyway.” Then we went in the room for the preliminary vitals and blood work. Because I had lymph nodes removed I can’t have blood pressure or blood draws or anything that could aggravate the lymph system and cause lymphedema in my left arm. When the nurse asked which arm I drew a total blank. For a minute I couldn’t remember which side was okay to use. We both laughed and agreed that was a great thing.

Vitals taken and blood sucked, she handed me a robe and left the room. Which meant I had to disrobe from the waist up. Which meant persons other than myself would be seeing my underarms. D’oh!! Not only are left armed vitals off limits, so is shaving the left underarm. If you’ve been around here for the last couple of years you know I went through three sessions of laser hair removal which seemed to do the trick. Except it didn’t and now I have to go back for a touch up, though I keep forgetting to make the appointment and I hardly ever Veet because it’s so inconvenient and it kind of burns, too. But do you know what I say to sparsely hairy armpits at the doctor’s office? “Whatever.”

The appointment itself was very good and almost great. I think we spent at least half the time discussing college choices for Taylor – my doctor is pushing for Penn State and laments that his girls chose Yale, Harvard and Temple. Not a huge concern for us. But this appointment was supposed to be about me so let's get back to that.

My blood work was great (surprise, surprise, my white count was on the low side of normal). My vitals were great. My tumor markers were low. Everything was as it should be which is very good. I’ll get a bone density test in January, see the doctor in March and we’ll be that much closer to my 5 years.

The one glitch in the appointment is that I will be on the Arimidex two years longer than originally prescribed. The plan had been post-chemo treatment for five years which for me was two years of Tamoxifen followed by three years of Arimidex. There’s been a new study, however, that says there’s a better success rate when the patient stays on the Arimidex for five whole years regardless of how long she had been on any other post-chemo medication. A little disappointing, but I’m not going to complain about it (at least not at the moment). It’s small beans compared to the grand scheme of things.

Finally I checked out and high tailed it for the Starbuck’s down the street for my venti White Chocolate Mocha with whip to complete my visit. Because a trip to the doctor’s isn’t over until I’m sipping that sweet nectar of life and making yummy sounds. Besides, my oncologist’s office is about 40 minutes away and I needed something for the ride home.

Just Another Oncology Appointment

2009-09-12T19:04:00.001-04:00

This coming Wednesday I’m going to see my wonderful oncologist, otherwise known as The White Russian, for my 6 month check up. I’m pretty sure I know how it will pan out. I’ll sit in the waiting room happily reading until the nurse calls my name. She and I will walk back to the nurse’s station while she blames me for the weight she’s gained because I happened to tell her about Hope’s Cookies and now she can’t ever drive by there without stopping. Then, just to be spiteful I’m sure, she’ll make ME stand on the scale (at which time I’ll tell her again that I’ll be a good 30 pounds less the next time she sees me) and drain a couple vials of blood from my arm.

Once I get to the examination room I’ll be depressed about the weight she just recorded for all of eternity and The White Russian will walk in, disturbing my lamentations, and say how great it is to see a healthy person. Then I’ll feel bad about my whining when I would take every single ounce and then some if it meant not having cancer anymore.

He will ask how my summer was and what my family did. I’ll tell him we drove to Arkansas for a week to visit friends and family and how we didn’t get to see half the people we would have liked to. Then I’ll tell him how I flew to Seattle the following week to spend some time in a beach house with four other women. We’ll also talk about the tight, tingling, almost painful pressure my left arm feels whenever I fly or even ride in the car for any length of time without any support and he’ll look for signs of lymphedema. Thankfully he won’t find any unusual swelling and I’ll be told to keep wearing the compression sleeve when I fly and hopefully we’ll dodge this particular bullet.

After that we’ll discuss the stiffness in my joints and other bodily aches and we’ll decide that since it’s not debilitating pain I’ll just remain on the Arimidex for another 15 months. This is when I’ll realize I’m only little more than a year out from my 5-year goal and that will make me happy.

Most likely The White Russian will order a bone density scan because the combination of no ovaries and the Arimidex make for early onset osteoporosis. He’ll also probably decide I should have a colonoscopy because I haven’t had one yet and colon cancer is somehow closely related to breast cancer. Not only that, but there is a history of colon cancer in my family.

We will also look at my blood work which will no doubt look good except for my white count and other immune system related values. They might be within normal limits, but I can tell you right now they’re going to be low. How do I know this? Well for one thing they’re always on the low side of normal. In the nearly four years I’ve been finished with chemo they have never gotten very far above the line. But I’ve also managed to wear myself down which always results in a thick and swollen tongue, my own personal telltale sign of a low WBC. When it’s really bad, like it was after my trip to Seattle, minor cuts and blisters won’t heal and I’ll get a funky feeling that I just can’t describe so I’m not even going to try.

Thrown in between all this clinical stuff he’ll ask about my kids. When I tell him Taylor is now a senior in high school he’ll ask about his desired major and college. He’ll also ask how Katie likes high school and what do I think about being on this end of parenting. The White Russian will tell me a little about his family and their summer and before I know it my visit will be over.

I’ll then get to Peggy’s desk and we’ll chat for a moment and schedule my next appointment for sometime around March or so. And while I’m so happy I don’t have to make weekly or even monthly visits to the oncologist anymore, I’ll be just the teensiest bit sad that I don’t get to see these people for another six months. But then I’ll stop at Starbuck’s on my way home for a Venti White Chocolate Mocha with whip (Weight Watcher’s points don’t count on oncology days) and all will be right with the world.

I do wish I hadn’t gained all this weight (which I blame all on the various treatments I’ve been through since diagnosis) and I would love it if my body would be more cooperative and less stiff and achy. I’m very conscious about the possibility of lymphedema and I’m a little angry about the whole osteoporosis thing. The thing that bothers me the most right now is the white counts and the swollen tongue. How weird is that? It’s always swollen, but it gets worse when I’m feeling bad or overly tired and it gets in the way when I’m trying to talk and I’m always biting the sides with my sharp carnivorous molars.

Nobody ever tells you about all the stuff you have to deal with AFTER treatment, even if you don’t have any more cancer. But I’ll take all of it just to get to my 5-year goal and hear those magic words, “No Evidence of Disease”. And as I'm driving home I'll start relaxing, even though I didn't realize just how tense I was. I always expect a good report, but somewhere in the far reaches of my mind I suppose I fear the worst.

Finally, I'll start thinking about those I know who don't get to hear those words that I'm sure to. The women who are dealing with a recurrence or a metastasis, those who seem to be losing their fight, and especially those we've had to say goodbye to. My joy at another good report will be dimmed by the sadness for those who are not as fortunate and I'll be reminded just how horrific cancer is.

And in six months I'll do it all again.

Cross-posted at Mothers With Cancer

One Day Down...

2009-09-08T19:04:00.007-04:00

Today was the first day of the 2009/2010 preschool year. For those of you not in the know, I am the administrative assistant for my church's children's ministry department which includes our preschool. I do a lot of the paperwork to free up Leanne, the Director, to do other, more directory-type things and to help the teachers out. That's the general description of my preschool duties anyway.

My plan was to get in the shower at 7:00 this morning, leaving me enough time to eat breakfast and pack a lunch before I headed out early for work. Sookie had other plans, however.

The kids had left for school; Todd ran to Wawa for breakfast for himself, coffee for me; and the dog was outside. We have an invisible fence and I don't like leaving her outside while I'm in the shower if no one else is home so I opened the door and called her in. She spared a glance for me and then went back to whatever it was she had been doing. Stalking small children, no doubt.

After pleading and cajoling and trying to rationalize with a dog I finally had to go out to the yard to get her. Our side yard on the corner which is very visible. In my warm, pink robe and my fuzzy pink slippers.

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Go ahead. Get that picture firmly established in your head.

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So there I was, in the middle of the yard - the very dewy yard - arguing with a canine with the neighbors driving by and waving and I'm pretty sure they were laughing. At what, I have no idea. But Sookie thought I was out there to play. Because, you know, I often go out in public covered from head to toe in pink fluff.

I thought maybe I could lure her in with one of her toys. The purple ball. Yes! That's it! So I grabbed the ball and dangled it in front of her as though it was a carrot. Dangit if she's not so stealthy and quick because before I knew it she was running away with the purple ball.

Then I tried the new blue ball that she has become enamored with and taunted her with that. She stood over the purple ball and looked at the blue ball, clearly undecided as to what she should do. As she tried to make up her mind I slowly crept closer to her, careful to dodge the poop, thinking she was so confusiated that I could grab her collar and be done with it. She waited until I almost reached her and then she took off running, wanting me to chase after her. I had to disappoint her there. I rarely chase her when I'm dressed. I certainly wasn't going to chase her in my bathrobe. The neighbors had had enough entertainment for one morning.

So I stomped back to the house, muttering something about stupid dogs and showers that should have been finished by now. There were other things muttered as well, but I'm not going to share those with you because I don't want you to know the real me.

Then it happened. One of those rare flashes of genius that only come along every great once in a while. Cheese puffs. She's a hairy, four-legged cheese puff fiend. I stood on the deck, noisily opened the bag and barely got, "cheese puff" out of my mouth before she was sitting at my feet with that glazed look reserved for drug addicts jonesing for a hit. Score!

Finally I got her in the house and took my shower. I didn't have time to eat breakfast or pack my lunch, but I did get a delicious 26 oz. coffee out of the deal so I couldn't complain too much. And I made it to work on time and got everything printed and distributed and the day went pretty smoothly.

Now that I know the secret I need to keep a steady supply of cheesepuffs to keep her in her habit. Then she'll be helpless against my will. Mwahahahahahahaha....

Whidbey Island: A Photographic Tour - Island Living - Saturday: Coupeville

2009-09-02T21:22:00.051-04:00

I hope you haven't forgotten about Whidbey Island because this blogger certainly hasn't. I had only gotten through Friday in my Whidbey Island Photographic Tour series. My intention was to post all of Saturday today, but I only got through half of it. Hopefully I'll get the rest of Saturday posted this weekend. And hopefully you don't fall asleep before you get through all the photos!

There should be four bluddies in this picture, but we lost one to the alluring promise of hot coffee.

My typical view as Precious and I were usually lagging behind. There were just so many great things to photograph!

The sign says it all. And it was great food!

Italian Raspberry Soda
Cream

Italian Raspberry Cream Soda

Our uber-delicious homemade lunch: Tomato Basil soup, grilled cheese sandwich (on homemade bread) and fresh grown salad greens with homemade dressing.

Our foamy bookmark craft to keep us kiddies occupied while we waited for our yummy lunch.

HAPPY BLOGGERVERSARY

2009-08-31T21:26:00.003-04:00

Today is my three-year bloggerversary. Feel free to send flowers, balloons, chocolates, or my personal favorite - cards with money.

Thank you. And good night.

The Start of Another School Year

2009-08-30T21:30:00.002-04:00

The kids go back to school tomorrow. Taylor is a senior now and Katie a freshman. You read that right. Two kids in high school. I can't figure out when that happened. My Facebook peeps are telling me that either I blinked or turned around. Well thanks a lot, friends. Why didn't you warn me earlier?

Oh wait. You did. It's not that I didn't believe you. I guess I just thought I was blinking quicker or spinning faster so I wouldn't miss anything. Apparently that doesn't work.

I think I'll quit before this post turns maudlin. Besides, I have to go to bed so I can get up early and see the kids off to school. So I'm going to cheat and repost what I published last year at this time:

Ye Olde Tale

And it came to pass in those days that a decree was sent throughout the land stating all children shouldst return to their scholarly pursuits. And so it was the offspring of the house of Todd, garbed as was appropriate to their station, boarded the conveyance of saffron which wouldst carry them to places of learning. And thus there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth upon the carriage. But lo, the women rejoiced, singing praises to the Lord and joyfully dancing in the streets.

Ye Olde Tale, Part II

But woe to those who didst sing praises and dance joyfully in the morning, for their joy wast turned to sorrow. Though Jenster, wife of Todd, son of Phillip, was gladdened in her heart as her children departed the conveyance of saffron from whence they came, she wast overcome with despair at the multitude of scrolls those in governance over the learned places deemed she should writ her name upon. Verily, the sorrow didst continue at the command Jenster, wife of Todd, son of Phillip, shouldst make haste to the market place and thereby give a goodly sum to the merchant in exchange for bindings with which to hold the scholarly scrolls and the tools with which to document the knowledge learned by her children. Yea, though she rent her clothing, donned sackcloth and covered her person with ashes, her mourning was turned back to joy for by the next time the sun didst rise much toiling wouldst be finished so she could then enjoy the fruits of her labor.

And so it was.