Stop This Train

Blake and I are riding out a horrific cold together. It's kind of pathetic, both of us lying in bed, hacking up a lung, wheezing and snorting, noses leaking, feeling like junk. But the good thing is, we're on the same time frame. I hope that means that when we're well, we won't have to wonder when the other will be starting up with the awful symptoms! I've been trying to rest a little while not completely avoiding my responsibilities to report cards, upcoming Parent/Teacher conferences, and the windup of Fall Semester (with accompanying projects, papers and on-line discussions all due simultaneously). The two cancer drugs I'm taking--Tamoxafin (to block estrogen), and Xeloda (oral chemotherapy), are making me feel proactive in the War Against Wayward Cells. I feel a little pregnant, wildly pseudo-menopausal, spread too thin in my life and I have a cold. Do you ever just feel like shouting "STOP THIS TRAIN!"?

DrainOut!

Hurray for DrainOut Day! My left-side cancer is a new kind! Of course I'll have two kinds of cancer...my drain's out and I feel like I can do anything. Which is good, because there is WAY too much TO DO in the next 48 hours! Too busy to write a decent post, so stay tuned until Thursday. I promise then, pics of the VA cuties, details of the vacation, and more cancer details.

Joy Zap

'Tis the season of love...and to lift you from the dregs of recent dreary post, I bring you this tiny tidbit of romantic humor. My husband and I go waaaaaaaay back. I'm talking we could have attended WOODSTOCK together! His younger brother recently e-mailed him this cheesy '70's photo of the two of us boating (dig that groovy swimsuit!) Said hubby turned the laptop screen my way (I was at my post--three pillows deep, buried in covers up to my chin on the heated side of our waterbed, on my back, trying to avoid discomforting the painful nothing that is my absent bosom). I saw the picture, and how did the feeble remains of my feminine anatomy respond to what it saw...THAT TINGLE! You know the one...that slightly embarrassing little surge of oh-my-hottness that thrilled over your skin whenever your current crush appeared unexpectedly beside you in the cafeteria of your Jr. High...Yesiree Bob! The Joy Zap. Apparently, in spite of all odds, I've still got it bad for the fast guy with biceps like Popeye...all it took was a photograph. And that, people, is romantic!