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It wasn't December 7th either!  In fact, that day we were enjoying a family road trip.  We haven't traveled in almost 8 years.  We had the pleasure of taking our 12 year old to the state championships with his school robotics team.

Every night since July 12th, when I say my nightly prayers, I get a little giddy as I thank God for having given me one more day.  (Or, approx. 148 one more days and counting.)

The Day After

I'm here, I'm alive, and as healthy as I know it.  I forgot to buy a lottery ticket.

Nothing significant happened yesterday that I know of - but I did have a lovely 2 1/2 hour lunch with my kids at the Brazilian steakhouse (had the Cow Day date wrong but had decided anyway to live it up).

Interestingly, a friend that I had fallen out of communication with called me up because, apparently, we had spoken as recently as 3 1/2 years ago and I had told her about my dream so she had written it on her calendar.

So far I am maintaining an attitude of gratefulness for one more day - but I've only been up for one hour.  However I sincerely hope to maintain this attitude for the rest of my life.

I've noticed that the subtle posts I made on Facebook over the last couple of days about enjoying every moment have gotten a higher than normal amount of likes and positive comments. 

Best wishes to all!  Make the most of every moment and make a contribution to life every day. 

My Plan for the Day After

It just so happens that the big day, July 12, 2017, is a Wednesday and Wednesday is the day I make my weekly blog post.  Next Wednesday I will not post.  I will be busy living every last moment (or at least having lunch with my kids.  I know I said I'd go to the Brazilian restaurant but coincidentally it is Chic-fil-a Dress Like a Cow day and get free food, which we do every year, so we'll probably be eating at Chic-fil-a instead.)

My plan for the day after, or specifically 7/13/17, if I am still alive, is to make one final blog post stating that I am alive.

Talking Myself into a Circle

Buckle up - it's a bit bumpy.

I was listening to the song that goes, "Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall.  All you have to do is call.  And I'll be there, you've got a friend."

That got me thinking about what friends I have to whom I would go running when they called.  I have lots of friends and family in Brazil.  Over the years, now especially with Facebook, I've seen that they have come as far as Orlando and not invited me to join them or not tried to come visit me in Texas.

Sure, sometimes it wouldn't be practical.  But I'd like to at least know it was an option.  To feel like I was friend enough that they would want to visit with me.  I mean, normally we live 5,000+ miles apart so if they were less than 2,000 miles from my home, that is more than half way.  Just as if I were in any part of Brazil I surely would plan a leg of my trip to go visit them.  

And what if it was something a little weightier?  What if a friend needed a kidney?  What if my best friend in the world needed a kidney?  I'd have to say no because I would worry that if something went wrong and I died it would be unfair to my children.  This friend I think of is childless.  But what if they, too, had a child.  Nope - I still wouldn't do it.  While I wouldn't want their kids to lose a parent, donating a kidney could potentially rob two families of a parent.  BUT - what if it was I who needed the kidney.  Yes, I'd expect my (childless) friend to donate for me.  Why?  They have a parents and siblings - doesn't that count too?

And then I wonder why I am so obsessed with not abandoning my children.  I mean, I think I'm a decent mother but I'm no mother-of-the-year.  And haven't I raised them well enough to survive without me?  As I've said before though, dying first is no noble gesture.  Life sucks for a while for those left behind.  So maybe that is what I want to spare my children from.

The Queen's Funeral Plans

I recently saw a news report about the plans that have been in place for several years regarding what will happen when the Queen of England (Elizabeth II) dies.  (Currently she is older than 90.)  Pre-planned details for nine days following her death include:

• her private secretary will call the Prime Minister on a secure line and say "London Bridge is down"
• security and transport arranged for multiple scenarios
• a bulletin to the press association within 15 minutes at the same time a guard places notice on the Buckingham Palace gates
• website changes
• an obituary light will flash at national radio stations instigating a switch to somber music in anticipation of breaking news
• pre-assigned locations for broadcaster coverage from the palace
• body carried to Westminster Abbey by military procession, scheduled to arrive at the steps at the exact moment Big Ben begins to chime
• new king declared the day after her death

The report had me both intrigued and relieved.  Obviously I'm no queen but it was slightly reassuring to see that even someone like the queen gives advanced thought to her death.  It is slightly a relief to know that at least I haven't planned it down to the deatil of when the church bells will start to chime at my funeral.

In fact, as the time gets ever closer I haven't planned anything but lunch on 7/12/17.  I haven't written letters; I haven't updated my will or even found a lawyer, And I'm starting to realize that most likely, I won't.  For the next 10 days I'm busy volunteering at my church.  Maybe I will do something after that because my youngest will be at sleep-away camp so I will have a lot of time to reflect and take care of things.  But I'm thinking I'll probably find 100 other things to distract myself with.  At the very least I am more attracted to finishing "the blanket", working on my novel (still probably wouldn't finish it) or creating a family heirloom art that I've been wanting to do for a couple of years.  Even catching up on nine years of scrapbooking sounds more attractive than updating a will.  

Still Pressing On

It's summer and once again I'm applying for teaching jobs.  Once again I'm feeling discouraged and bordering on depression because I get so few interviews for all the jobs I apply for and when I do get an interview I get so hopeful and, obviously, don't get the job.  My husband asks me why I keep applying if I'm going to die on July 12th anyway.

Sometimes I think that's the reason I don't get the job, it's divine intervention saving the school from having to find another teacher to fill the position.  But I have to keep applying; I have to keep believing that I'm not gonna die.  Because if I stop believing then I may as well be dead.  If I give up hope then something has died inside me.

My faith teaches me that God can do miracles but I have to do my part.  I can't just sit back and expect Him to do all the work.  I have to believe, I have to pray, I have to be obedient and spread the message of hope.

My mom used to tell a joke about a man who was in a flood and he was on the roof of the house and he prayed to God to rescue him.  A guy in a rowboat came by and offered to take him to safety but he said no, he was good, he was waiting for God.  A guy in a motorboat came by a while later and offered to take him to safety but he said no, he was waiting for a miracle.  Later a helicopter comes by and drops a ladder to rescue him but he wouldn't climb up because he was waiting for God to rescue him.  When he died and went to Heaven he asked God why He never came.  God said, "What do you mean, I sent a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter - what more did you expect?"

Everyone Has it Right

As I was driving my child to tennis I passed a friend's neighborhood and reflected that she might well be driving her child to music lessons - each of us thinking we are being a good mom and doing the best for our children.  And each of us right! 

I think at the end of a day, or at the end of a life, if each of us can say we did our best, then it was a success.  Even though your best may look different from my best, as long as it is truly the best you've got than it is good enough.

The Countdown

Wow, it's getting close!  I post a blog entry every Wednesday (or sometimes Tuesday night).  Counting today there are only six more entries to make.  Truth be told, sometimes I have more than one thought per week.  Sometimes I have less.  So as the thoughts occur to me I draft a post.  I already have five more blog posts drafted.

Maybe I'm done thinking about the subject.  Well, at least the blog posts...  As I considered that penultimate sentence I realized I still need to think about preparations:  write those letters, update the will.  I've just spent 30 minutes this morning making appointments for check-ups and such now that summer is upon us and I will have time off.  But I didn't even begin to schedule an appointment for a will update.

No time this morning...I'm off to enjoy a my youngest's Fifth Grade graduation ceremony!

Who Will Stand Up For Me

Some people I know recently organized a fun run for a mutual friend who is (still) battling with cancer.   I am not a runner but I thought I might go and help out in some way.  Then I realized the run was in the morning and my son had a tennis tournament that afternoon.  Not impossible but logistically challenging.  But I still really wanted to help.  I hope that one day there is someone who cares enough about me to organize a fun run and when they do I hope that there will be enough volunteers to help.  It's the Paying It Forward concept that I have posted about previously.  But it also reminds me of a poem in the book "I Am Malala" which I recently re-read:

They came for the Communists, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a Communist;

They came for the Socialists, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a Socialist;

They came for the labor leaders, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a labor leader;

They came for the Jews, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a Jew;

Then they came for me - And there was no one left to object.

Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor, 1892-1984

Writing the Final Last Words

Somewhere in the nagging back of my mind is the desire to write a letter, to leave a last bit of advice or reassurance to my children.  I've mentioned it before - but have yet to even begin the process.  I think it only takes a bit of imagination to think how hard such an undertaking would be.

For the last few months I've been listening to the audio books of my favorite "Outlander" series by Diana Gabaldon.  "Voyager" Ch. 42 sums it all up very well.  Let me set the scene:  a woman who accidentally time traveled in ~1945 back to ~1743 accidentally fell in love with Jaime.  Because Claire knew modern-day history which, in 1743, is the future, she knew a war was coming.  She was pregnant by Jaime so he sent her back to modern-day to keep the baby safe since they assume he'll die in the war.  Twenty years later she discovers he didn't die.  The baby is grown so she goes back to the past to be with her true love.  But she writes a letter for her daughter before she leaves.  Here are some of the ideas Claire voices in the novel regarding such a letter:

• I expect she'll ignore it all, and have a wonderful life - but at least she'll know I thought about her.
• If she doesn't need it, it will do no harm, and if she does, it will be there.
• She recorded what she knew of the family medical history
• ...how could I tell her just how much I loved her? 
• She shared a lot of treasured memories of her daughter growing up
• She gave a bit of advice about men, such as don't try to change them because you can't and don't let them try to change you because they can't either

Maybe I'll use this as a pattern when I finally do write those letters.  Sure, the books are fiction, but at least it's a launching point that makes the task seem a little less overwhelming.

A Quote to Contemplate

Theodore Roosevelt said, "Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die."
Ouch!  Usually I rationalize my fear by saying I'm not afraid for myself, I just don't want to leave my kids.  But honestly, I am a little afraid.  Not of the after-life.  I'm clear on that.  But I'm afraid of getting from the point of life to the point of death.  I'm afraid that it might be long and drawn out and painful.

...but then the Priest said...

After going to church last Sunday I had second thoughts about the sentiments I expressed in my previous post.  How many times in this blog have I said I don't want to abandon my children by dying young?  Yet I don't want to reach an advanced age where I'm out of my mind?  Wouldn't that be a good thing because if I get to that age then I won't have abandoned my children too soon?  (As if there is ever a not-too-soon.)  I just don't like the idea that my children would be frustrated by my diminished mental capacity at the end of my life.  What I really want is to die quickly at an advanced age with still enough mental capacity to be thanking God with my last breath for allowing me to live that long.

What to look forward to...

My mother-in-law is advanced in age and diminished in mental capacity.  For a few years now we wonder if every holiday will be the last and try to make an effort to get the family together, gathered around her.  This year she's declined to the point that she's being cared for in a facility - a fact that grieves her children.  So we brought her out to our house for Easter along with some of the in-laws.

Sadly, it seems the facility over-medicated her and she dozed through most of the day.  Even still, not a bad visit and we did get a nice picture for posterity.  But getting her back in the car was another story.  Logic has left her and the idea of rising from her wheelchair, pivoting, and sitting in the car was overwhelming.  Even as an observer it felt quite traumatic.  At one point my brother-in-law, who is probably 20 years older than I am, looked at me and voiced the thought that was screaming through my head, "Is this what we have to look forward to?"

I know there are many people of advanced age in very similar situations.  I look at them and think I would much prefer an early exit than surviving so long that living becomes merely existing.  In that regard, and only that regard, 7/12/17 is not looking so bad.  Although, if I had a choice I'd vote for something more along the lines of 7/12/37.

Another Apathetic Holiday

Possibly my last Easter - didn't even dye an egg.  Barely got the basket filled - forgot the Pokemon cards.  Went to church but didn't even feel any joy - blamed it on the guest priest.  Made a lemon cake - not even bunny shaped nor trimmed with jelly beans.

I felt more excited to go grocery shopping on Monday than I felt about anything Friday to Sunday.  

What is wrong with me?  I've said it before - I should be pouring everything I have into these last holidays and instead I'm doing less than ever.  I don't feel like it is a conscious decision to do less, just not driven to do more.

I'd like to think that if I survive 7/12/17 I will be so grateful for every day afterwards.  But part of me knows I'm only kidding myself - if I can't even rise to the occasion of one last Easter why will anything be different on July 13th?

What? I missed a week?

For a moment I wondered how I could have missed a week.  In a time in my life when time is so precious, how did a week get away from me and I can't remember not posting or what I did instead of posting?  Is this the beginning of the end?  No worries, my memory is as sound as it ever was, apparently it was an app malfunction.  I distinctly remember writing the post from my iPad.  Today I am on the laptop.  So I went back to the iPad to see if perhaps I forgot to tap "Publish".  I had to re-sign in to the app - obviously something weird there.

So I'll try and recap what was on my mind last week:

Over Spring Break, as previously mentioned, I had cleaned out some cabinets.  I have my first crochet project that I started working on when my now 11 1/2 y/o was an infant.  I would sit in the nursery while he fell asleep in his crib and work on this blanket.  I got the blanket made years ago but the pattern includes some cross-stitch animals over-laid on top.  I did some calculations and realized if I don't complete one animal per month I won't finish the blanket before July.

So that was my goal - one a month, starting with March.  On March 30th I stopped all other hobby activities just so I could get the animal done.  (It took until April 4th.)  So during that time I didn't work on my coupon lists or check email.  My husband says I'm on my computer too much anyway.  I always tell him I'm not just reading gossip columns but I'm planning our menu and making grocery lists and keeping on top of kid activities.  I gotta admit though, it was a little freeing to not turn on the PC.  This will make me better contemplate how I do spend my leisure time.

(Update:  It is now 4/12 and I haven't even begun the animal for this month...been busy catching up on coupon stuff and need to make the Easter grocery list and menu from now until I'm off work for the summer...lots to do!!)

Ironic Hat

Over Spring Break I cleaned out the cabinet under the end table by my spot on the sofa.  I found an old knitting project from when I had been commissioned to make some shrugs for a little girl starting Kindergarten.  I think that girl is probably in 5th grade now.  I know I delivered a couple back then but I found one that was half done.  

I thought about completing it and putting it away for a future granddaughter so I started to see if I could pick up the pattern again.  It was a little more complicated of a pattern than I usually do and after a few rows it seemed like it would work out fine.  But it occurred to me I could easily convert it into a hat.  

I've made many simple beanies for my boys growing up but I've only made one hat for myself.  I really like the pattern and was excited about the hat.  As it turns out, it perfectly matches a fleece jacket I "inherited" from my mother.  

So it's March 28th, we've had high's in the '80s for the last several days, and I finished the hat tonight.  Which means it is unlikely I'll wear it before July 12, 2017.  Which means it is possible I will never wear this hat.

Failure

"Success loves a witness, failure demands one." - Junot Diaz, "The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao"

I hope that the witness this blog provides is my greatest failure.  Although, I have blogged before that even if I don't die on July 12, 2017 it may mean that, because I was aware of the date, I did things differently than I otherwise would have and thus changed the projected outcome.  I sincerely hope that I fail at this prediction.  The closer it gets, the less I believe it will happen.  But then that thought sets off a bit of a panic in that if I don't take it seriously there may be negative consequences.  I did not meet my goal of getting my will re-done in January, or my revised goal of getting it done over Spring Break.  Now I'm looking at June - cutting it rather close.

Hoarding vs. Frugality

Yesterday on TV I caught part of an episode of Hoarders.  I've heard it said that the general population watches shows like that to make themselves feel better - as if we all hoard but as long as it is not as bad as the people on TV then we don't have a problem.

But as I listened to the hoarders I could hear that they truly saw value in the things they saved.  Obviously to a person with a fully functioning brain it sounds ludicrous that they want to save an item that MIGHT be worth $50 at the risk of losing a house that is worth $50,000.  But the larger point is that people see value in different things.  When I was in fifth grade we did some sort of recycling project and the theme was "One man's trash is another man's treasure."  That idea totally captivated me in fifth grade and has stuck with me ever since.  (That and the correct pronunciation of Arkansas - the embarrassment still lives within me)

A few weeks ago I wrote about making a list of who gets what after I'm gone.  I realize that I'm making an assumption that my descendants will see value in the same things I do.  Like socks.  I kept most of my mother's socks - and wear them regularly.  Not because I can't afford my own socks.  Not because I felt an emotional attachment to them.  I think I am just a naturally frugal person.  But I do have my standards.  If I buy socks, I don't buy them from the discount store because I don't want seconds - I want them to fit well and be comfortable.  I've never bought socks from eBay although I have sold some on eBay and thanked God that I had never been that desperate to have to buy my child's socks second-hand.  One time I had to wear my mother-in-laws socks for some reason.  They were clean but it still made me feel weird.  But wearing my mom's old socks do not make me feel weird, or anything in particular other than dressed and ready to go.  However, who's to say my daughter will feel comfortable wearing my socks.  

I see the value in my ancestor's approach to just asking people what they really want and letting the rest fall out as it may.  If I specify that my daughter get's the entire contents of my closet and she wants none of it - then I've just burdened her with the responsibility and hassle to dispose of it all.  So - I need to stop hoarding my thoughts and just ask them directly, even though it is a difficult question to ask.

Communicating with God

I had not been sick in years and then I had a respiratory infection and a sinus infection.  After a week of antibiotics for the sinus infection I was feeling like I was getting sick again - even though I had 3 days left of medication.

I've been listening to a lot of Joel Osteen on the radio so as I went to bed that night I was inspired to pray boldly for healing from this minor affliction.  I asked God to take all the infection from my body.  Then I asked him to take anything else that may be in there too that I was unaware of - like maybe cancer cells.  Basically any sickness - get it out of me.

The next day I woke up feeling completely fine.  I knew it was due to God's healing and repeatedly thanked Him.  Every time I coughed I thanked God for my health.  As I was brushing my teeth and getting ready to spend the Saturday running errands with the family, I thought about eating lunch out.  Then I thought about enjoying a soda with my lunch.  Then I thought - how ridiculous, if God just took any cancer cells out of me over night I'm going to go ruin it by drinking a soda and putting all those toxic chemicals back in my body.

But I LIKE soda!  I know it's a horrible habit, and might even be considered an addiction.  I know I should not drink soda - ever - for any reason.  There is no good that comes out of soda.  But I LIKE soda!

So I began a dialogue with God and struck up my own potential sign.  If I got a soda at lunch and that soda should spill, then I would never drink soda again.  Wow!  That was a big commitment on my part.  You know I was nervous during lunch!  Every time I picked up my drink I was waiting for an avalanche of liquid.  It never happened!  I never spilled my drink.

What does this mean?  I'm not really sure.  Does it mean there were no cancer cells to begin with?  Or God took them out and is going to allow me to enjoy my favorite beverage guilt free?  I'm not going to go overboard with soda drinking but I will indulge from time to time and I will try to thank God each time for my health.

The Last Line

The other day I was imaging having lunch with my children on 7/12/17 at the Brazilian restaurant.  What will my last words to them be?  Books have been written about this sort of thing.  I want to impart that last golden nugget of parental wisdom that will carry them through the rest of their lives without me - but realistically I know that's not possible.  A few words, no matter how well crafted, can't provide wisdom for every future situation they will encounter and take away every hurt they will ever feel.

Maybe I will just leave them with a lyric from "Seasons in the Sun": 

     We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun

List Making

Along with writing letters I also think about making a list of what things I want to pass on to whom.  My mom gave away most of her heirloom pieces well before she died.  She split up some significant furniture pieces equitably between myself and my sister probably 15 years before she died - most likely  she was just redecorating.  At some point she also split up all her silver serving pieces.  There were other things that she thought were valuable that she didn't designate.  She used to tell the story of one of her relatives who put names on the back of objects to indicate who she wanted them to go to.

I don't feel like I have anything really valuable.  But there are some things of sentimental value that I feel like are important to pass down.  Like the VCR tapes on top of my closet that are the childhood videos of my older two children.  I've always intended to get them recorded onto DVD - but assuming that doesn't happen, I don't want them to just languish on top of the closet.  They are not the children of my current husband so the videos mean nothing to him.  

A rational person would think he'd just call the kids up and get the videos to them.  But anyone who has actually experinced a blended family may know that things don't always run that smoothly.  And anyone who has ever experienced the death of a close family member may know that, even in the best of families, emotions may cause people to behave in unreasonable ways.  Therefore I feel it would be worth my time to, at least informally, put into writing that my daughter inherits my entire coupon collection - including my electronic spreadsheet in the cloud that catalogs every coupon I have and its location.

And that is probably the real root of this post - I tend to over organize things.

Letter Writing

I've had a few thoughts lately about getting started writing letters to be delivered after my death.  It's been a vague idea at the back of my head for the last couple of years; but now, as that magical date gets nearer it feels a bit more pressing.  

I've thought about who I would ask to deliver them.  I think it would be unfair to ask my daughter or even a close friend.  So I think I'll do something like in the movies, leave them with a lawyer.  Of course, that implies that I have a lawyer.  That has also been on my list of things to do.  I envisioned taking care of that in January but that didn't happen so I figured Spring Break but as we don't have an appointment set up or even a lawyer identified, that's not looking too good either.  We really do need to update our wills, in any case, because the peoole we deemd to take care of our child afe no longer fit to do so.  The hold up is agreeing on a suitable person to name instead.

But as for the letters.  I imagine writing them will be very emotional for me.  So I feel like I should set aside a time when I can be by myself.  I thought of taking an afternoon and going to Starbucks but I'd probably wind up with tears running down my face so that wouldn't be good.  I thought of at least jotting down ideas during a break at work but, again, worry that I would get too emotional.  Which means letters will probably be yet another thing that I don't get done,  At the very least I hope my children will read this blog after I'm gone and know how much I thought of them and agonized over leaving them.  (See, already getting tears in my eyes.)

Night Night Nokia

I have recently been spending more time than normal in cell phone stores.  My husband switched from a name-brand company to a second-tier carrier about a year ago.  I didn't switch with him because I wasn't confident in the service.  But after a year in which he's had no problems I decided I would switch onto his plan.  I also needed a new phone.  I am not someone who goes through phones quickly - as I have recently observed that some people do.  

Apparently some companies allow an upgrade every 3 months and there are some who walk in, grab a phone, and then deal with how to use it.  Not me.  I want to research the features and look for something that meets the way I do life.  

My very first smart phone was a Sony Ericcson p910a that I bought unlocked online.  It was a smart phone before phones were smart.  When that finally became too quirky (it never did work quite right once it went into the pool with me to rescue my child who was drowning during swimming lessons) I bought a Nokia Lumia 710 (unlocked).  The very fact that I'm saying unlocked dates things somewhat because apparently now all phones are unlocked.  

Both of these phones had the desireable feature of allowing me to work on Word documents on the phone.  Being a writer, that is important to me.

So the Lumia was getting to the point where I couldn't do things in the browser because it was too old and I asked at the Microsoft store and they said there is no way to upgrade the browser.  SO - I set Spring Break as my time for making the big switch.  I'll be off work and can have time to really get to know the new phone.  Last weekend I started the preliminary shopping for a new phone.  

On Monday after work I realized my phone was completely dead and wouldn't recharge.  Finally we jacked with the jack enough and got it charged.  Wednesday I decided I wasn't going to rely on holding my tongue the right way in order to get my phone charged between now and Spring Break so we went to the wireless store to make the switch earlier than planned.

Ironically my old phone had no bars in the store.  I needed to retrieve my old account number so I went outside and still had no bars.  This happens from time to time and is always resolved by powering down the phone and then turning it on again.   So I did.  But the phone never got passed the Nokia loading screen.  It died right there in my hands - right at the hospital.

So now I've got the fancy LG Stylo 2 Plus and I love that I can write on the screen because I am a big list maker.  I'm a little hesitant to use it until I get a case for it.  And I'm a little annoyed that I have to squeeze in learning how to use it amidst everything else I have going on before Spring Break.  But more than that I'm wondering - should I have paid extra for this phone instead of taking the free phone.  I mean, if I only get 5 months use out of it before someone cradles me as I draw my last breath was that worth $60 (not to mention the time I'll waste learning everything new).

The Year of the Rooster

The other day in a Geography class we were talking about the Chinese New Year.  I was born in the year of the rooster - that much I knew from eating in Chinese restaurants.  I didn't realize that this was also a year of the rooster.  Instantly I began to wonder what the Chinese say or believe about being born and dying under the same sign.  As I was contemplating that the teacher commented that maybe this will be a good year for me.  I chuckled to myself.

Another Near Miss

When I went for a regular check-up recently, the same time my doctor told me I was pre-diabetic, he suggested I get a baseline scan of my thyroid.  I've been taking thyroid medicine since I was 12 but to my knowledge had never had a scan.  My church was offering a preventive scan which we had already signed up for - GREAT!  Results came back that I had a mass on my thyroid.  Very normal according to Google but let's get a sonogram with measurements to be sure.  By now it is the beginning of Christmas break and since I am off work I'm eager to get it all done.  Sonogram determined the mass was 11 mm.  10 mm is okay, 11 mm is not so let's get a biopsy.  That was an interesting experience.  During this time I had a dream about black pebbles in a throat.  Certain that I have thyroid cancer even though intellectually I know it is still unlikely, I'm eager to get the results.  Thanks to the beaurocracy known as HIPPA I couldn't be told the results over the phone and had to wait until the follow up appointment.  Turns out all is well.  Another scare, another near miss.  Breathing a little easier, I still await the mystery of July 12, 2017.

I'm Alive

Normally when I wake up I know instantly what day it is and in which direction I am headed.  On Tuesday morning I woke up and did not know.  I thought it was Sunday and only slightly grudgingly thought I must get up for church.  Then I thought it was Saturday and enjoyed some brief pleasant thoughts about how I would spend a lazy Saturday.  But then reality dawned and I realized with almost certainty that it was Tuesday.  I finally invoked my as yet unused motto for the year and declared "I'm alive" as I tried to focus on the positive of the recently discovered disappointment.

New Year, New Motto

New Year's Eve 2016 my 11 year old wanted to stay up until midnight.  We had movies and snacks and fire crackers which were all popped by 9:30.  About 10 o'clock I noticed that the kid had fallen asleep on the sofa.  I roused him to walk him to bed and he popped up frantically and said, "I'm alive, I'm alive!"  Obviously he meant to say "I'm awake" but in his sleepiness awake became alive.  But for me it had special meaning.  I hope that on July 13th I can wake up and say that.