Tag Archives: holly

Mani Pedi.

7 Aug

I woke up with a hankering for a mani pedi.

My first instinct, was blahhhhhhh, stupid drain, nothing in my closet fits and, oh yeah, OneBoob. How do I disguise that?  I can’t wear a falsie yet, and I do, in fact, look very lopsided.  Socks?  Tissues? A scarf?  Ah well, perhaps I will get a mani pedi another day.

Then I came to my senses. Why do I need to disguise?  Ok, the drain I get because that’s just gross, but the OneBoob? What better way to raise awareness than by rocking it singular style?  And Hell-to-the-O, I want my nails done.  I am woman, hear me roar.

This sounds good in theory. But, truth, I needed a little back-up in the form of a gal pal. My roar was more of a meow with an attitude. Who do I know that’s up for this?  It took me about a nano-second to yell “Holly 001!” To which my son yelled, “I am a big tomato!” (I have no explanation for this.)

Left to her druthers, Holly would swagger into the nail place with a “What’s up, my BITCHES! Boss here has OneBoob. Anyone got a problem with this? Anyone want to stare? No. I didn’t think so.”  And with this, I would be shown to a perfect pedi chair decked in pink and diamonds.  I am a OneBoob Princess.

So Holly didn’t have to do that, but just knowing that she totally would have made me hold my head up high. Truth is, I don’t think anyone even noticed.  1 trip out in public down, 1 million more to go.

Holly, the more sensible, went with the standard buff & manicure.  Not me, I went for the bright red shellac, which has to be removed with a blow torch.  Shallac has to be dried in this weird hand machine, and as I’m sitting there, I look at the machine.  It says UV all over it.  UV??

Dudes!  UV! I am sitting with my hands basking in a freaking Cancer Box!  I alerted Holly to this madness, and we joked that perhaps we should go tanning and smoke a few ciggies when we were done.  GOOD GRIEF.  I’m worried about looking goofy with OneBoob so I let my hands simmer in a little Insta-Skin-Cancer.  Duh. Sometimes I amaze myself.

All in all, a fine day.  Thanks Holly.  You’re a big tomato.


A Day of Thanks.

12 Jul

Ay readers, another surgery today.  Don’t even ask. I’m so tired of this that I’m boring myself.  I will say that a few beers the night before a surgery does not make anesthesia sit well.  But I’d do it again because those Coronas were divine going down.


I have a Village of people who don’t think, they just act.  They inspire me to be better. They believe in random acts of kindness, and I am too often the lucky recipient.  A few shout-outs today:

To Jill. 

Who let me bitch yesterday about all this. And she let me bitch and bitch and bitch. She let me bitch, and listened to it all, while I forgot that her sister, Janet, also has BRCA2.  And Janet got to find that out by getting ovarian cancer.  I am ashamed of myself. Jill, being Jill, said nonsense, brought me food, helped with my son, and then served me beer.  Good friends know when you need a drink. And when I woke up to a medical emergency, Jill knowing my husband was out of town, rearranged her work schedule, came over, and got my butt to the hospital. Note – while I was typing this, Jilly popped over with some ginger ale.  See? What else do you say about a friend like this? (And let me tell you, after the time I’m having with the anesthesia, the ginger ale is much appreciated.)

To Holly.

Holly 001.  The 1 and only.  Who lets me text her gross details, lets me get frustrated, and always provides perspective.  Holly lost her mama, Juicy Lucy, to cancer just a few short months ago. Perspective.  My running theme.  This might be a breast cancer walk, but I’m walking for Lucy first and foremost.  Lots to say about Holly, but it boils down to this – when my son is proud of something he does, he always wants to show “001.” Kids see into your soul, and Holly’s is pure as snow.

To Andy.

Mi hermano, my brother.  Who, when faced with a decision, will undoubtedly take the craziest option.  But when faced with a family crisis, will rearrange his life.  Like he did when he picked me up from the OR today, got me food, demanded numerous times that I stop using my arm (eeek, the meds make me forget) then took my son to his house for the night so I could rest. Andy’s priorities are usually pretty much in the perfect order. (And he just taught Xia to say, “Uncle Andy is the best!”)

To the Two People in the Moving Truck.

In a frenzy yesterday morning after my doctor’s appointment, where I found out, alas, I was not quite finished with all this, I started crying. In anger, really.  Because I know that, in the scheme of things, this is not a big deal.  I escaped cancer, I should be dancing.  Instead, I was frustrated and irritated, and that made me even more frustrated and irritated.

While I was in my hyper state, I ran a red light.  Not a yellow light, not a close call, a full on RED LIGHT.  Wide-eyed and shocked, I swerved to avoid the cars, just missed them, then heard screeches and brakes behind me.  OMG.

I turned off and pulled over.  BREATHE.

I’d like to thank the people in the moving truck who followed me and pulled up along my driver’s side.  I am sure the man in the passenger seat intended to make a few unkind remarks, but when he saw my mascara-smeared-teary face, changed his mind, and asked if I was ok. Not in a mocking, I have to do this because she’s crying sort of way, but in a sincere way with a sincere look.

I didn’t know how to respond.  I almost caused complete vehicle mayhem, and you’re asking if I’m ok?  All I could do was apologize for running the light, to which he shrugged, smiled and said “things happen.”

Thank you. You’re a nice man.  I hope you stumble upon this so you know your good deed made me smile.