It's just the two of us home today and we're having a great time being lazy.  So far we've watched two movies from the 90's (The Fugitive and Die Hard II) and we're gearing up for The Road Warrior next.

We haven't been completely antisocial today.  Our friends, Bill and Donna Davis (missionaries in the Philippines) stopped by on their way north this morning.  And we enjoyed a heavenly breakfast of Wolfermann's muffins with Erik before he left go back home. 

Erik was a godsend this week.  Bill and Donna, in their own way, were the same as they asked questions about the diagnosis, shared their hope and faith with us and prayed with us for healing both from my surgery and from the cancer.

So...no big treatise on any topic today.  Just a tip of the hat to the comforts of friendship and a long marriage...gratitude for the day we get to share, today.

Now if only I could eat popcorn!

Take two.  I wrote this entire blog and then dumped it because I forgot about one of Weebly's little quirks.  <sigh>  Ah well.

At any rate, I'm back!  I got home from the hospital on Tuesday (at least two weeks and three physical iterations ago) and have been busily recuperating ever since.  Recuperating in my case means that I have been doing a lot of reading (for pleasure), napping (as determined by the percocet and my general body's needs), yakking and hanging with my friend, Erik Kieser, and eating whatever I want that is also soft and not spicy.

God bless, Erik.  Who would have known that day, almost 30 years ago, when we fell in (platonic) love over discussions of green blood, the nature of God, the passionate beliefs of our young faiths--that he would end up being my care-taker in our middle years?

Well, God knew.  But who else?

At any rate, those coversations have been part of the very fabric of my soul lo these many years.  I'm so grateful for Erik in so many ways, not the least of which is the way he pulled my feet into bed when I honked up the whole "getting into bed after surgery" equation on my second day home.  It's excellent having Erik here to help me noodle through things as I continue to gear up for the fight of my life.

Erik is here also so that Dan could go back to work while I was in this more delicate phase of my recuperation.  I think it's been good for Dan to be back in the work saddle, but that's just my observation.  It's good for things to be as normal as possible.

That's part of my mantra these days.  "Be Normal."  I got it as a piece of advice from my sister-in-law, Candy (a cancer survivor) and it feels right in my bones, in the conviction of my heart, in my liver (where the tumors lurk even now).  It may seem counter-intuitive to be in the aforementioned "fight of my life' and to have one of my chief weapons be normalcy.

At least part of my reasoning is that as "Cancer Girl," there are a limited number of things to live for--defeating cancer, researching my disease, marshalling my resources.  While as Laura (see About Laura to the right), I have all of Cancer Girl's motivations and weapons PLUS an amazing life to enjoy here and now.

So, I'm back to it.  Blogging, writing, working on various projects and...in a few weeks...golf.  The blog will concern my fight against cancer when it makes sense.  I imagine I'll be touching on political topics occasionally.  I know I'll be writing about the curious crossroads of my faith as a recovering fundamentalist facing this part of my journey with prayer and a non-traditional understanding of what it means to be a believer, to be a Christian.  And I suspect I will be working up a manifesto of sorts, like the one I had about qualities I was looking for in a President, about what life looks like from this side of a cancer diagnosis.

And I'll probably still gloat when I manage to beat someone at golf or cards.  I might rant when a politician or celebrity does something particularly boneheaded.  And the Sunday Question will be back this coming weekend.

Welcome back everyone.  Thanks for the prayers, the flowers, cards, emails, gifts and most of all, for giving me a life so rich, I can't help but want to live it and live it and live it.

This will be my last blog post for a bit...I'm expecting to be in the hospital for 3 to 6 days (per the doctor's lecture) and I won't have access to a computer. 

Dan will be sending out email updates as to my status.  If you're not already on the "gory details" list and you want to be, post a comment and we'll be sure to add you to the list.

Yesterday DID NOT pass according to plan.  Vicodin on an empty stomach plus drinking the (different) bowel prep...well, let's just say that only the 3 people in the house at the time will ever know the full extent of the situation.

I went to be early...mostly just to help the nausea pass.  Indeed, it did but now I'm hungry, thirsty and cranky.  <grin>

Ah well, this too shall pass.

I'm trying to get caught up in the office (to at least some extent) before things start to rock and roll around here.  Wish me luck in that!

The festivities should commence around 2:45 this afternoon.  Prayers for a successful surgery, for Dr. Maeda, for Dan and the rest of the family...well, they're all very much appreciated in advance.

Hugs all around and I'll see you on the flipside!

I'm a day and a half away from, as my sister-in-law Candy puts it, voluntarily walking into a hospital and asking them to cut me open and remove parts of me.  Crazy world, eh?  But I am so grateful to have access to health care, the support of friends, family and that man o' mine...and for this rich, rich life.

In practical terms, prepping for the surgery means the following:

1.  I am on a clear liquid diet today followed by fasting after midnight tonight.  (Grumble, gumble).  And yet, I'm in no immediate danger of starvation so I suppose it's a minor inconvenience.

2.  I will be spending some quality time in the bathroom later today.

3.  In the meantime, I'll be working diligently to bring order out of chaos in my office.  Wish me luck!

4.  I am listening to a (rather extensive) collection of Christmas music and becoming quite festive as a result.  In hopes of passing along some holiday cheer, here are two items for you--

    a)  A photo of Charlie, my friend Hal's dog (who now calls me "Auntie Laura") and a rather grumpy St. Nick.  St. Nick must be on a clear liquid diet too.

    b)  A cute YouTube ditty forwarded to me by Dad.  Enjoy!

"A day which will live in infamy."  Those were the words of Franklin Delano Roosevelt as he asked Congress to declare war against Japan after they invaded Pearl Harbor 67 years ago this morning.

Which leads to today's Sunday question:

What do you consider to be the most momentous event in history for which you were alive, and what do you remember of that moment?

After running a few errands this morning, and actually reading the LA Times online (felt good to get back into that habit, I'll tell you), I spent most of the day decorating the house for Christmas.

(Before I write about "real life"...let me just say that I disagree with President Elect Obama about bailing out the Detroit Three.  I find myself in the curious position of agreeing with Republican Congressman Spencer Bachus of Alabama who prefers a structured bankruptcy proceeding to a bailout since it "would exert greater pressure on the companies to make changes."  Read the LA Times article here.)

But back to decorating for Christmas.  When we moved to Orange County from Santa Clarita, I had about 16 boxes of Christmas decorations that came south with me.  That first December, my friend Erik Kieser was visiting and we had quite a party throwing out dated decorations and generally paring down (and toning down) my collection.  Although I held onto the cranberry Christmas tree candles he hated. 

Today, I got Dan to haul down the 10 or so boxes I have left and unpacked about half of them.  Among some of my favorites in today's haul:

--The cross-stitched Advent Calendar Dan's dad, Dick, made years ago.

--The cross-stitched "Peace" picture that I "won" at one of many Baldridge gift exchanges...handmade by Sally (aka MOSM).

--A gorgeous snowglobe angel given to us years ago by our friend, Betty.

--An Alaskan Santa purchased with Shari Riter on our cruise to Alaska.

--A British Santa purchased on my first trip to London with Mom.

--The snowmen and Santa candles that Dan bought for us this year.

--The antique glass ornaments that decorated our tree during my childhood on Lehrer Drive in Clairemont.

--A Mexican nativity set that was one of the first gifts Dan's brother Steven gave us.

I've mostly enjoyed decorating the house for Christmas in the past.  When we were younger, I'd imagine doing so with the children I assumed we'd have.  After about fifteen years, decorating became a chore rather than a joy.  I realized I'd been decorating the house for those never-materialized kids and after some major re-thinking about what the trappings of Christmas meant to me (and to Dan), I came to enjoy the process again. 

Today, it was all about memories.  The ones stirred up by the sight of familiar items as I lifted them from their tissue paper.  And the ones that were created today with calls from family, messages from loved ones, a nap after lunch, and carols on the Ipod as I unpacked Christmas 2008.

While today wouldn't qualify as mundane like yesterday, I did have a nearly normal day.  After hanging out with my man in the morning, I set off to play 9 holes of golf with friends, Renee' and Tom Dobyns.

We were joined in our golfing quest by a very nice prospective member named Rich.  After a brief aside with my very young, very good, golf pro Adam about the status of my lessons and the status of my health, we were off.

Since we're really trying to take care of our newly spruced up course, the first tee today was what is usually the 10th tee.  Nearly normal.  The boys had a good start to the round and Renee' and I had fun.

Rounding the turn, I still felt nearly normal, so we decided to press on for 18 holes.  Since the front 9 was now the back 9, I played much better on the back with two pars and only one quadruple bogey.  Hey, when you're only nearly normal...a quadruple bogey is a good thing.

I shot a 111, had an excellent time playing with Renee' (who was just smacking the sh** out of the ball), and was thoroughly exhausted by the end of the round.  Since I haven't played a full 18 holes at a regulation course for over a month, I'd call that absolutely normal.

After golf, I raced home...got the orders for the blood tests I need so I can have surgery on Tuesday and got to the lab in plenty o' time.  From there it was back to mundane tasks...answering emails, preparing for next week.  I also enjoyed a wonderful conversation with my in-laws while waiting for Dan to come home.  And then...we had a yummy dinner out at one of our favorite restaurants.

So if yesterday was in praise of the mundane...today was in praise of the nearly normal, wonderfully pampered life that I have enjoyed for much of the past 10 years.  Yeah...there's been work involved, but mainly it's been what I want to work on...not what I have to work on.  For that luxury I am most grateful.

One last thing that made today more "nearly normal" than normal?  Moira seems to have taken a powder.  It's hard for her to make me feel like crap over a poor golf shot (and there was an abundance of those today), when I'm playing golf with two people I love, on a nearly perfect day, and feeling nearly normal.

Maybe Moira's waiting until she has bigger fish to fry.

Almost everything about today was mundane.  I rose early, bought coffee, hung out with Dan before he went to work.  I put away Thanksgiving decorations and left the ladder out so I can start making Christmas tomorrow (and over the weekend).

I responded to today's emails (still backed up and not getting to prior emails but I figure an hour on email is sufficient).  I went for a walk while chatting with two friends via cell-phone/Blackberry/Bluetooth technology.

I picked up the cleaning.  Went grocery shopping.  Ate lunch.  Put away the cleaning and started the laundry.  Brought in the garbage cans and did more laundry.  Journaled.  Did some work on memorizing Psalm 139.  Watched some TV while folding laundry.  Started my December playlist for my Ipod.

In the grand scheme of my day, two things were not "mundane":  One was the sunset--absolutely breathtaking.  I stood and watched until it faded from the sky.  The second was that I was scheduled for surgery one day after meeting the surgeon and within a week of our first appointment--So now I know the time and place of round one in my fight against the monster.

I can only begin to tell you how great it felt not to be scurrying from doctor to doctor, to take a respite from email and delivering difficult news to loved ones, to stride through the park and feel the vibrancy and health of my body as it responded to the fresh air and the rapid pace.  I even enjoyed doing the laundry (a task that's never been on the top of my list, as this "anti-mundane" poem attests.).

Funny how perspectives change.  More Wag.  Less Bark, indeed.

That was the bumper sticker on the car in front of me this morning as I drove to get my latte.  (How Californian does that sound?--The driving to get the latte, I mean.  Not the bumper sticker.)

The bumper sticker is one of the signposts that seem to have been popping up in my life recently.  I've found it a bit challenging to be as patient as I'd like to be when little things get in my way these past few weeks.  It could be a stubborn jar lid not opening; someone cutting in front of me in line; the little annoyances that slide off our backs a thousand times a day without much notice.

Since the diagnosis; however, these annoyances get under my skin with disturbing ease.  So I found the bumper sticker to be an apt reminder that there are plenty of things in life that make us want to bark. 

And there are also plenty of things in life that make us want to wag our tails (proverbial or not).  The warmth of your beloved's hand in yours.  The smile of a stranger who holds open the door for you.  The myriad kindnesses of fellow human beings.  The infinite beauties right outside our windows.

I won't pretend that I wagged all day today.  I may have barked a few more times than usual.  But in general?  More wag, less bark.

Once again, no political punditry on tonight's agenda.  It was a long morning of waiting for a call from the surgeon.  Finally, I took matters into my own hands and I'm glad I did.  The surgeon had a day off today (well-deserved, I am sure) but the message to schedule me for an appointment had gotten lost in the shuffle.

After phone calls with three very nice women and three different medical offices, I am scheduled for a preliminary appointment tomorrow afternoon.  There are records to be picked up, more forms to be filled out...but overall I am glad that there is forward momentum.

Dan and I did manage to get out of the house for a bit this afternoon and spend some time doing "normal people" stuff.  It was good.  And it was difficult.  Good to get out and get fresh air and the perspective that comes from seeing other people, seeing kids smiling and adults in their various pursuits.  Difficult because I know that we've got some tough road ahead of us and these moments are all the more precious because of that.

As a result of all the calls and the "sneaking away," I didn't even glance at a newspaper today.  So, I have nothing to say about anything that went on except that it's nice to know the world keeps on spinning...even when I'm not around to comment.