Rapier's Wit

Years ago on this blog I used this image as part of my header. In the early years it was called WildHair . With that in mind, the wigs made sense. What brings it forth today? Well, I was perusing my blog image photo album. Had I been consistent with writing a year ago, this image could have been used as I decided which hair style to don. Chemo made me bald. Most of the time I preferred not to put anything on my head because hot flashes were intense. Head coverings simply made it unbearable. Scarves and hats were my staple until I returned to work. Then, I really wanted to look less like a cancer patient and just blend in. Wigs gave me license to be playful in a way I had never been with my hair in the past. I bought long, short; dark and light auburn; brunette. NEVER blond. Not that I didn't try it out. I looked washed out and terrible. My natural hue is salt and pepper. There was consideration given to sporting that shade, but why? Why not be adventurous? After what I had en...

A week and a half ago I awoke with pain in my jaw. More specifically, my tooth. This particular tooth has a crown, which by no means equals royalty of the molar world. In the past it has given me a bit of issue, but nothing alarming. X-rays would indicate it was just me clenching my jaw when I slept.In the past, my dentist would readjust it to suit my goofy bite. So, my chemotherapy treatments are scheduled on Wednesdays. Every Wednesday. The treatment I was due to receive is what I call the mega-dyna-whoppin' treatment. That one packs a wallop. Before getting that treatment blood work is done and I meet with my oncologist or nurse practitioner to have vitals checked and to discuss the blood work results. If the stars are aligned then treatment is a go. Sadly, my platelets were not high enough to safely deliver the infusion. So, it had to be postponed. The lighter of the treatments was given with hopes the following week my platelets would be higher. Enter funky tooth. A visit ...

Oh dear me! This week has been a smack in the head emotionally. Mother's Day is often such a struggle for me. On one hand, I am ecstatic to have a son who loves and respects me. He fills me with so much pride. On the other hand, losing my own mother in 1981causes me such emotional turmoil from time to time. Not often, but when it strikes it strikes hard. The other day on Facebook I shared that my final memory of my mother was that in the hospital where she spent her last days. She was ravaged with cancer and in dire pain even with pain medication. Toward the very end I wasn't permitted to visit her. However, the time I was allowed in her room she had pushed me away after I hugged her because I was hurting her. It isn't the memory I want to hold on to, but it is there. As her last child, the youngest of eight, there's no doubt she had her reasons. My siblings have assured me, while it wasn't what I wanted, it is what our mother felt was best for me ... or her. It ...

2013 has flown by at lightning speed, it seems. Someone once said that as we age the years tend to do that. Is it because we have little to look forward to or that we are just so much enjoying watching our children grow that we want to savor every second? My money is on the latter. We learn to relish the moments instead of always looking for something better and shiny. OK, mayhaps I cannot speak for you. As for me, I revel in the moment. Most of the time. Well, in retrospect. This year has zipped by, damn it. I don't like it! But here we are... Christmas is just two days away. One day if you're one of those people who doesn't count the day we are in. Changes at work, Mancub being in college... I've been busy and time got away from me. So, there is no card of any sort being sent out. On Facebook, I promised a blog post Christmas card. Even that nearly got away from me.  Today, I'm off from work. Because the month managed to be shorter, somehow, gifts for ...

Ah, the beginning of a new era. Please permit me to inject sound effects of screeching tires, needle scratching across a record. When my little bundle of love was born I had huge hopes for him. It's natural for any parent to imagine what great things their newborn will be capable of accomplishing. It's easy because that version of the future is so far off ... Now, insert the sound effect of a rocket blasting off or race cars speeding around the track. Time flies, yo'! Being the only parent consistently in my son's life, I admit to over protection. It is a fact. Mancub has heard my admission time and time again along with apologies for having done so. I am that mom who would have wrapped her child in bubble wrap in order for him to play football. You laugh. I am serious. When I dropped him off for his first day of Kindergarten I had to pull off the road to sob. Then, repeat until arriving at home to completely break down. He survived, but not without co...

Well ... he did it. My son graduated from high school. Through every trial and tribulation that the journey threw at him he managed to blaze his trail. No obstacle was too great for him. He persevered with tenacity that would make a lesser man crumble. Unlike his mother, my boy managed to graduate with a 3.5 grade point average. Dear old mom, me, graduated by the skin of her teeth and probably a little bit of pleading for passing grades. What I'm saying to you is that he is a far better student and person than the person who raised him. The experience is all so surreal to me. As the end of the school year approached and I started rifling through photos, certificates of accomplishment and honor, his life passed before my eyes ... my tear filled eyes. I can't recall the last time I shed so many tears. While the awards were laid out before me, I didn't fail to remember how hard he worked to achieve them. Not forgotten were the multiple IEP meetings (Individualized Educ...

There are many things in my life I have done wrong...totally screwed up and lived and learned from the mistake. However, the best thing I have ever done and continue to do is being a mom to Mancub. This month he graduates from high school. Fourteen years ago it seemed it would be the longest road. The most tumultuous, rigorous, painstaking journey has paid off. His tenacity has brought him to a major milestone. Ask me about my perfect boy and I'll go on for days telling you how amazing he is

First grade was tremendously challenging for Mancub as his teacher was determined to teach him in the  cookie cutter manner she'd always used. What I mean by that is her belief was that children would bend to her will and fall in line. I am quite certain my son wasn't the first child she encountered that required accommodations yet she behaved as if he was the first child to enter her class with an Individualized Education Program. Mancub's second grade teacher fell from the heavens. She seemed to truly understand his mind and his moods. She was the kind of teacher who remained flexible in teaching lessons. Her methods were not rigorous yet her style was structured. By the end of the first quarter she shared that all the kids seemed to benefit from Mancub's accommodations from time to time.  My son really blossomed in second grade and found that he could achieve academically. He joined the Science Club. His socialization skills improved. The club had many field t...

I have covered that the special education resource teacher, Rose Barton, would prove to be a godsend to Mancub's life. The actual diagnosis for Asperger Syndrome wasn't instantaneous. It took great research and testing. Developing a proper IEP was hit upon swiftly as accommodations were necessary for Mancub to set upon a successful path. However ... There was a teacher who, in spite of a specific IEP (Individualized Education Program), wanted to challenge or continue to teach every student within her comfort zone rather than that of the student. I'm not saying this is not a difficult task for the teacher to make accommodations. The following is shared as an example of how challenging first grade was for us. Accommodations were met with argument and frustration: Mancub's first grade teacher was the most resistent to his IEP. This would be the inaugural stepping stones for executing it. The day before school started parents are invited to visit the classroom with ...

Mrs. Rose Barton was (she has retired) the Special Education resource teacher at Mt. Vernon Elementary when Mancub first met her. She swiftly consulted with me; arranged consult with the child psychologist at the school; set up observation of Mancub for herself and the child psychologist. It was determined that my darling son was certainly mis-categorized as EBD (emotional behavior disorder) by his former school. Both professionals determined that he was not acting out and perseverating to gain control. His surroundings were setting it off and he was clearly frustrated and upset. Not an expert in the field of autism, Mrs. Barton sought out help from her colleagues and researched Asperger Syndrome. When she first approached me about the possibility my son was 'special needs' I'll admit to feeling defeated and devastated. No lying. Immediately, I pictured my child being harassed and bullied for being different. I made some phone calls to friends and family members who were ...

"The Wedding Singer" presented by our community theater ( kvta.org ) came and went without so much as a blog post from me. Why? Well, I was preoccupied with work, rehearsals, social-life. Wait, what? Did you just read social-life? Indeed you did. Now, don't get too excited thinking I found me a may-un. No, no. What resulted from being in a musical production of the movie by the same name is friendships. Say that one more time. Friendship. Local. Easily accessible. Let's back up a little bit because the performances of "The Wedding Singer" deserve some attention. I had the best time performing on a stage where my high school days were spent. Additionally, my son and niece were also in the show. Our little winter production even received a review from the newspaper. That hasn't happened in a long time. See, this presentation didn't come without some controversy. The Daily Journal called us "racy but worthwhile." Yep. For this theater gr...

"Things will go wrong at times. You can't always control your attitude, approach, and response. Your options are to complain or to look ahead and figure out how to make the situation better" — Tony Dungy

Lady Jane -- You will be missed This is dedicated to Maureen, Michael, Justin, Kris, Alisa, Kailey, Andrew and Ryan: Rainbow Bridge Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begi...

This card inspired an idea that has always been stumbling around in the back of my mind each year holiday gift giving season rolls around.  I'm a grown up with a big girl job.  If there is something I want, I buy it.  For several years I have not participated in the gift exchange at work. This act has led people to call me a Grinch.  My actions, or lack there of, have nothing to do with my lack of Christmas spirit.  My heart is full of giving and light all year long but especially during this time of  year.  Rather than buying friends and family items that will likely end up on a shelf collecting dust or re-gifted at their work white elephant exchange, my money goes toward donations to less fortunate people.  In years past, I have been a recipient of such gifts that made giving my son a Christmas possible.  Out of the blue I was showered with generosity.  Pay it forward. When this card was posted on my Facebook wall along with the ...

When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Let it be, let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be . My mother's name was Mary. Whenever I heard this song as a kid I presumed everybody knew my mom was a great listener and giver of advice. As I grew up I realized that Paul was singing about a more widely known woman named Mary. The mother I spawned from passed away in June of 1981. Just when I was in dire need of matronly advice, she was gone due to the ravages of cancer. I was a confused teen on the cusp of finally being permitted to date. Sixteen was the age at which girls in our family were allowed to have a boyfriend. All I'd had were crazy crushes that were never realized due to the restrictions placed upon me. Still, having my mother tell me how to handle myself or get over the painful heartache of nonrecip...

You'll notice that some things have erupted on my page. Those things are ads. Those ads are placed there based on what I'm writing about. For me, it's a no brainer. Hopefully those ads will drive a little chunk of change toward my wallet. Yes, I'm monetizing my blog. The first ads that popped up are for a Beachbody product called P90X. It's a kick-ass, get your body ripped program. Did you know you can purchase it (and many other fabulous fitness programs and supplements) through me as your personal Beachbody Coach. The link in the banner of this blog will take you there! I'm very excited about this new venture. Amazon.com is one of my favorite sites. I often post on Facebook what values I find there particularly in regards to music. You'll get the best of both worlds: My blog and shopping on Amazon simultaneously! It's a multi-tasker's dream come true. Haha. I do believe I'm getting the hang of this dramatic lifestyle change. Since I first ...

So, those are not the most eloquent words ever exclaimed on Christmas morning, but it was a sentiment of true surprise. My son had no idea what he was getting today. He's fully aware of the challenges I meet each month financially. He's never been a gimme gimme kid. He's joyful no matter the gift. I gave him games to go with the Wii before he unwrapped the console. I feigned surprise that I grabbed the wrong game system versions." Oh, poo! Well, you can exchange them for PS2." His reply was not surprising, "Well, my cousins have Wii systems. Maybe they'd like them as gifts." It was then when I got up and reached behind the couch to reveal yet another gift. He noticed how heavy it was when I sat it on his lap. He screwed up his face in wonder. Here's the result: Additionally, Mancub is the proud owner of a Trek bike. Santa has some amazing elves, let me tell you. I prefer to call them Heaven's angels on Earth. This spring I hope to...

Both of my parents instilled in me the belief in miracles and angels.  My mother was more likely to tell me a story about a harrowing event in her life where her guardian angel protected her from harm. My father, on the other hand, was more philosophical in his telling of incidents that solidified his belief in a higher being.  Our family was loosely Catholic. Read: Lots of the guilt inducing practices and none of the church-going, sacramental requirements.  Regardless of the methods and theories taught, we were a spiritual clan with the ability to find reason and cause to why we were fortunate in the face of often dismal times. I recall as a little girl my mother telling me to always listen to the little voices in my head because that was my guardian angel giving me direction. "She knows better than you do. So don't ignore her."  In my child-like mind's eye, angels have always been filmy, beautiful, ethereal beings with wings and halos.  That is, after all, ...