Nearest Distant Shore

RIP, Molly

Molly Ivins has lost her long battle with breast cancer, and I feel like I've lost a friend.

This is how she looked on the only evening that I ever had the privilege of hearing her speak.  She was smart and sharp and funny as hell, a raging liberal and damned proud of it.  Here's a bit from her last column:

We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous. Make our troops know we're for them and trying to get them out of there. Hit the streets to protest Bush's proposed surge. If you can, go to the peace march in Washington on Jan. 27. We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, "Stop it, now!"

There won't be another like her, and the world is a poorer place without her.  But I have a feeling she is kicking ass and taking names right alongside Ann Richards, another Texas original. 

Give 'em hell, y'all.

(photo source)

WHEEEEEEE!

Look what showed up on my doorstep this morning!

Here's what the gift card said:

The cure for anything is salt water:  sweat, tears, the sea...
We'd give you the ocean to take with you if we could. Instead, we'll give you music. We love you!

And it's engraved with sweat, tears, the sea/your invisible friends.  Honestly, I have the best friends in the entire universe-both visible and invisible.

I know I'm going to live a long time; surely I'll be here until I am able to make a dent in returning all the kindnesses that have been shown to me.

Thirteen Ways I'm Avoiding Work

1. Looking up class schedules at the gym
2. Printing and highlighting those schedules as if I'm seriously going to use them (I am, I swear)
3. Having just one more cup of coffee
4. Answering emails
5. Talking to Liam (who is home sick again) about martial arts classes
6. Reading the newspaper online (such a crappy website they have)
7. Making another to-do list (which should include get my ass to work, but does not)
8. Making breakfast (bacon, sesame-semolina toast, red grapes, maybe an egg)
9. Posting ads on craigslist
10. Blog-hopping
11. Forum-hopping
12. Cruising ebay for iPods (yes, I'm obsessed)
13. Writing a second Thursday Thirteen

Oh, My

Doesn't this just have my name written all over it?

Meme Time

Nabbed from Kristina-the iPod Shuffle!  C'mon, y'all play, too.

The Rules:

1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question.

What does next year have in store for me?
He Thinks He'll Keep Her-Mary Chapin Carpenter (hahaha)

What's my love life like?
I Get Along Without You Very Well-Linda Ronstadt (ouch, and yeah, true)

What do I say when life gets hard?
Love is On a Roll-Don Williams (I would like to think I'm this optimistic)

What do I think of on waking up?
Istanbul-They Might Be Giants (that explains so much)

What song will I dance to at my wedding?
Steal Your Heart Away- Bonnie Raitt (hmmmm...)

What do I want as a career?
Seven Years-Norah Jones (until a comfortable retirement? I'll take it!)

Favorite saying?
Woman's Got Soul-BB King (well, duh)

Favorite place?
In the Land of Make Believe-Dusty Springfield (hahaha! I guess it's better than The Road to Nowhere)

What do I think of my parents?
All Together Now-the Beatles (well, not exactly; my folks divorced in 1974 and Daddy died four years ago. But it's a nice dream)

What's my pornstar name?
Give Peace a Chance-John Lennon (should that be PIECE?)

Where would I go on a first date?
Down to My Last Cigarette-kd lang (I can't conceive of a time where a cigarette wouldn't be preferrable to a date, and I quit smoking in 2001)

Drug of choice?
The Weight-the Band (huh?)

Describe myself
Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars-Sarah Vaughn (oh, yeah)

What is the thing I like doing most?
Going Out Tonight-Mary Chapin Carpenter (not so much, really)

What is my state of mind like at the moment?
Dancing in the Street-Van Halen (yep-see post below)

How will I die?
Tell Me-Stevie Ray Vaughn (OK, I will tell you--of old age, smoking a cigarette and drinking a margarita on the porch of the Home for Wayward Old Ladies)

I Sing Because I'm Happy*

One of the things that got lost in this last difficult year was joy.  I didn't realize it was lost while I was in the middle of it, because I was too busy being busy and overworked and stressed and angry and bitter and sad, but joy does not thrive in those places, and somewhere on that path, I stopped doing things that brought me joy. 

Take, for instance, photography.  I'm not very good, but I love it, and in 2005 when I got a digital camera, I took pictures almost daily and posted them frequently.  I was even able to do a year-end wrap up of my favorite shots.  In 2006 I had barely a handful of pictures, and very few that weren't taken on a special occasion.  I don't want to relegate my camera to the special-occasion bag; I want to celebrate everyday occasions, too.  So this year I resolve to do better.  Let's start with this one , taken from the balcony of the ninth floor at Shell Island, directly in front of where I was sitting.  Or this one, taken an hour or so later. Can you see the dolphins?

Silliness is a big expression of joy around here; it would be nearly impossible for it not to be so with an eight-year-old boy in the house.  Yesterday we entertained ourselves singing "opera," and singing it very badly.  We took our cue from Elmo, whom Liam loved dearly when he was a wee one.  Elmo is not a very good opera singer, but Liam isn't bad; when he's not screeching, he has great pitch.  I taught him the difference between soprano's high notes and basso profundo's deep rumble and we generally had a wonderfully silly time.

Which brings me to music, the longtime number one expression of not only joy, but everything; rage, sorrow, happiness, longing, confusion, and sometimes, just the pure need to dance. I have always turned to music no matter what the occasion, but in this last year my house has been silent too often. But no more. Last night Liam and I were talking about the songs I used to sing him when he was little--Moonshadow, Sweet Baby James, You Are My Sunshine (which he calls  My Little Sunshine).  He said, "you haven't sang that in a long time, and I think you should sing it to me now."  So I did.  So simple, so easy-just sing.

And if there is singing, there must be dancing.  Liam is a silly dancer, as am I, and it's hard explaining to him why I'm dancing with a big goofy grin on my face and tears in my eyes, but he'll understand one day.  Meanwhile, let's dance!  As long as Aretha Franklin or Junior Walker or Willie Nelson can make my toes tap and my hips move, I know that I'm gloriously alive.

Liam reminded me that we haven't made any new CDs in a long time, and so we started putting together a list for his new CD mix.  His taste is even more eclectic than mine; here's the beginning of his list:

• Jump-Van Halen
• Days Go By-Keith Urban
• Who Says You Can't Go Home-Bon Jovi with Jennifer Nettles
• I'll Fly Away-Alison Krauss and Gillian Welch
• Sugarland-Sugarland
• You are My Sunshine-Norman Blake

He roundly rejected Willie Nelson's version of You are My Sunshine, which I love (I had totally forgotten about the album from which it came, a collection of standards with the added bonus of LEON RUSSELL.  Lord, how I love the internet.  But I digress.).

The point of all of this--and I do have one, hard as that may be to believe-- is that I'm rediscovering what brings me joy.  None of it is difficult or expensive; it's all just right there for the taking.

And I'm taking it all.  I hope you will, too.

* Do yourself a favor and listen to Mahalia tell us about singing because she's happy.  It might be the best thing you hear all day.

Thirteen Things in my Chemo Bag

And yes, I know I'm late.  I was having chemotherapy, people.

1. Love, Medicine and Miracles, a gift from my friend Deb
2. Sacagawea's Nickname, a gift from my sister, who really should update her blog, TYVM.
3. Martha Stewart Living, "special entertaining issue" from July 2006
4. More, circa May 2006
5. Real Simple, from last month and full of good things that can happen/be done in 15 minutes.  All of the magazines were liberated from my friend Paige's stash.
6. Hershey's Extra Dark bar, also from Paige's stash.  She doesn't hide the magazines but she does hide the chocolate!
7. The gorgeous leather-embossed-with-dragonfly journal from my friend Kathy, and a great pen with which to write.  D tells me that dragonflies are good luck:   In ancient times, Japanese farmers believed the dragonfly was the spirit of the rice plant. Dragonflies were a welcome sign of a good rice harvest. Dragonflies were also believed to bring good luck in battle. About 1600 years ago, the dragonfly was the symbol of a great Japanese warrior clan. The dragonfly later became one of the emblems of the emperor. An old name for Japan - Akitsu-shimu - means Dragonfly Island. The dragonfly is praised in many Japanese poems and songs.

               The Mimbres people of the American southwest painted the dragonfly on ceremonial pottery as a symbol of life.

            The Zuni tell an ancient story of a magic dragonfly made from corn and straw. It came to life in a time of drought and famine, became a messenger to the gods, and helped save the people. The Mimbres people of the American southwest painted the dragonfly on ceremonial pottery as a symbol of life.

            The Zuni tell an ancient story of a magic dragonfly made from corn and straw. It came to life in a time of drought and famine, became a messenger to the gods, and helped save the people.  (source)

8. My beautiful sparkly tiara, a gift from my friend Dodie, who was also the kind soul who sent Liam the Rudolph's light-up nose seen here.  I wore the tiara all during my treatment; all the cool chemo gals will be doing it soon.
9. Ponytail band.  A ponytail is not great look with the tiara, but sometimes a hot flash messes with your fashion choices.
10. My medicine bag, also from Deb
11. Liam's picture-one of my favorites
12. Portable CD player (no, I still don't have an iPod, dammit)
13. A big fat case of CDs, the list of which would be another 13 (or more).  FTR, I listened to Appalachian Journey and Over the Sea to Skye and I highly recommend them both.

Thursday Thirteen HQ is here.  Poke around; you never know what you'll find there!

MotherLove

Mothering is much on my mind these days, as I await the treatment that will determine the shape of my days for the next while.  I am, of course, always worried about how things will affect Liam, and I'm already seeing some of the effects of the very fact that I am sick as I watch him struggle to process things that no eight-year-old child should have to deal with.

My Liam is an old soul, very bright and wise beyond his years, with an incredibly active imagination.  I have been very honest with him about my illness and the treatment I'll be receiving for it, including the fact that it's new territory to me, too, and that I'm scared, and that it's okay for him to be scared, too.  We have cried together a little bit, but mostly we've just talked and tried to make some sense of all this.  Liam's declaration that it isn't fair echoes my own thoughts, but if I'm honest, it wouldn't be fair to anyone, so I really can't go there.  We rarely get what we deserve, and often that's not entirely a bad thing.

In all of this wondering and wailing, of course, is the dark thought at the very back of my brain that I'm not going to live to see my son grow up.  An unacceptable notion, one that I can barely stand to even whisper alone in the dark, but it's there, nonetheless.  I don't dwell on it; hell, I reject it outright, but if there is anything that's been slammed home to me in the last month, it's how little control we really have over the big stuff. 

As a result of this dark lurking thought, every single minute I spend with Liam takes on an urgency to do it right, to be the kind of mother I've fallen short of being so often.  It's probably pretty silly to think that just because I have cancer I'll become a better mother, that I'll listen more and yell less; that I will, in essence, become someone else--the new, improved TL.  But I feel compelled in a way I've never felt before to make sure that if our days are more numbered than I'd choose, that Liam will be able to look back and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the most important thing in the universe to me.

So I hold him close as often as he'll let me.  I stop and really think about it for more than a second before I scold him or say no to a request that could just as easily be answered yes.  I'm trying to get past my aversion to cameras and making a point of having our picture taken together as often as possible.  I'm taking the advice of my friend, who told me to write towards Liam being my audience as I chronicle our daily life as we go through this journey.  Most of all, I'm just trying to concentrate on being present in every minute we have together. 

And when I'm well once again, having done these things will serve to make me a better mother, and as a bonus, I'll have lots of pictures of my boy and me together.

With Love from the Universe

My friend S is here all the way from Wisconsin.  In some magical alignment of the planets, Liam decided yesterday (after saying "no" all week) that he wanted to spend the long weekend with his grandparents, thereby freeing me to pack a bag and move to S's hotel for the weekend.

Did I mention it's right on the beach?

That would be dark tomorrow, mind you.

Eight

Happy Birthday to my beloved Liam Patrick, who is eight years old today.  I have loved every stage of his life, and I'm finding that every stage is more fun than the last.  This is such a terrific age!  He's so lively and curious and interested in the world around him, and he's funny and just generally fun to hang out with.

Here he is as a newborn and with his mama just a few weeks later.  This is his first birthday, already a superhero. And here he is now, so grown up but still my sweet little boy.

I'm a very lucky mama.