Still Polly

I currently have four or five drafts sitting in my blogger thingamajig. They'e been there for months. Posts that start out with something cute or funny -- Polly-and-Bob dialogs, stories about Riley, a-funny-thing-happened-to-me anecdotes -- and are supposed to wind up revealing something profound that I learn from these things. But I can't push "publish" on any of them. The reason why is if it doesn't feel real, if it feels forced, I can't do it. And that's what those were. Half-baked ideas that were more about being funny and wise and they were not where I am right now. See, this year has been a long slog. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. And I think I'm ready to just fess up to some stuff. Body. I had two surgeries in 2018. One in February to remove that hateful tissue expander and install an implant where my breast used to be. This was going to be it! I'd finally be done and able to move on. It did not work out that way. At a fo...

"Any surgeries or anything like that since we saw you last?" Photo by  Michael Browning  on  Unsplash Uh, yeah. Let me catch you up. I was in the dentist's office for a cleaning. My first one since being diagnosed with cancer in 2016. So I gave the hygienist the short version: diagnosed with cancer, mastectomy, 6 months of cancer treatment, and two surgeries for reconstruction. She didn't say anything, just took notes. "Oh," I told her "I'm leaving out the port insertion and removals." "Just all part of the same thing," she commented, and she just kept writing. Her reaction, which was actually a non-reaction, was interesting, and I've thought about it quite a bit. It could have gone a few different ways, and this was one. She chose to not react, not gush, not show sympathy. It was all very professional and non-emotional. I was just another appointment with some teeth that needed cleaned. Now that I'm not obviously a ...

It went something like this. PLUS four tenths of a pound!? Ugh! That's it. I'm done. Why do I bother? What's the point? Why torment myself with the scale? Nearly half a pound. By tonight it will be more. I suppose I could try harder. Work out more. Eat less. I've done it before. Of course that was before cancer. It's hard, but it's worth it. Determination. Discipline. It's good for you. But I'm not going to stop using half and half. I mean really what is the point of coffee if I don't enjoy it? I have been limiting dairy. Less cheese is good. How much less can I eat at each meal? Less red meat. Maybe intermittent fasting. Okay, okay. How much do you want me to weigh, God? I'll work on weighing whatever you want me to weigh, as long as it's less than this. Cause you can't want me to weigh what I do now. Right? Hello? Why do I care? After all, I'm not young anymore. Maybe it's a privilege of age to put on a few pounds a...

Have I told you about my dog, Riley? Riley and I have a very specific, detailed, morning routine. It starts with the alarm at 4:30 am. Sometimes I hit snooze, but I'm usually out of bed by 4:45. We go downstairs and I take a couple of vitamins and get the coffee going, then I bundle up and take him outside. When he's done his business, he comes flying back to me and we go inside. I pour a cup of coffee, grab exactly two Canine Carryout treats, and go in the living room. If I forget the treats, I am reminded as soon as I sit down. His little eyebrows go up and he looks at me sideways. "Oh yeah,." The next part is called "tricks for treats." He goes in a circle, gets a treat. He rolls over, gets a treat. High five, treat. Shake hands, treat. And various others in his repertoire. I mix it up day to day just to keep him on his toes. Combo moves get extra treats. When they're all gone, I sit down and he heads back up the stairs to the bedroom. Her...