Friday, July 26, 2013

Invasive Spam

Just when my body fell to pot after chemo -- it was a particularly grueling week, witnessed by my sister and brother-in-law, my cat, and then my wee family -- my email got a bug. It got possessed. I was inundated with mailer demons just as the grey chemical pastiness was finally wearing off. Ah, the biodiversity of the digital self...

So, all apologies to anyone who received "my" missives. It's funny how embarrassing it is. I definitely feel responsible, even though I had a maximum security password that I had just changed three months ago. Sigh.

Big news: I kept down three eggs today! Maybe I'll even be up for playing a little fiddle.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Good exercise

Jaune and I are tired today, both of us because we spent the day outside yesterday. She was out doing whatever it is a black cat does in 95 degree weather, and me sitting out in the shade of a tree, painting, stopping for lunch and a swim with a good friend, then stopping again for dinner with another good friend. Then finishing a book.

This vacation Laurent and Lucy and Emile are on in France is turning out to be not so bad for me.

I was trying to describe a feeling I had before the 2nd chemo session, as the fourth of July fireworks exploded and I walked to my friends' house to spend the night, friends who are also my sister's in-laws. The best I could do is this poem:

Now space calling wisps
Cardinal points expanding and evaporating
This surprise
My hair short shaved
On my fingers
Mine I see and dream
What delight
Cry with a heavy heart expanding and dissolving
Holding and loving what is only a dream

Update: Painting outside, day two.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The bald painter

A favorite painting of mine (it's of my cat, therefore a favorite) just sold, so I had to make a replacement:

I'm feeling surprised that I got through the several steps required to do this... Well, okay, it did take me a few weeks. But still.

Lucy is suffering happiness in France, and Emile is showing off his climbing skills. Me, I'm bald. And enjoying the cicadas. Mmm. One of my favorite sounds. And now the chemo is starting to calm it's tide, so I can enjoy them...

Monday, July 1, 2013


In all of this sudden natural disaster of my health, I have many small glimpses of wonderfulness.

From time to time I look at Emile, or Lucy (photos, she's still living in the paradise of her cousins' attention) I see such beauty that it's as if the sky has split apart.

And I see just how deeply I love my husband, and my sister, and all of the many other people who are sharing their love and caring with me right now, reaching out and wielding human kindness in a way that I didn't know was possible.

And I have a new bike helmet. Which means that I am biking.

I biked five miles from therapy today, along the cesspool that is Allen's Avenue, and I was nevertheless pleased.

Hot, but pleased.

Some of my life's finest memories involve my bicycle. Biking to the library as a kid, by myself, to escape the insanity of home, along beautiful streets and through beautiful parks. Biking along the Charles River, one hour each way, to get to work, and biking along the French coastline to get to a a farm in Normandy where I would spend the next six months ostensibly cleaning out blackberry brambles, Sleeping Beauty style, but really just reading 40s crime pulp fiction, eating Nutella, and painting landscapes.

Bicycles are freedom, for me.

Of course, I suppose this is the good thing about having let my driver's license expire by TWO AND A HALF YEARS.


Driver's test August 8th. Must remember not to bump bumpers while parallel parking.

Wish me luck.