the ketchup packet.

Sit back and relax a moment. I want to tell you the story of the ketchup packet.

About 15 years ago, our good friends Mark & Mary told us a funny story about a mutual acquaintance. This mutual person was well known for being... cheap.

Mary invited said cheapskate for a picnic at a lake. Now, I don't know about YOU, but when I am invited somewhere, I bring everything I can possibly think of to help the hostess out. Food, drink, whatever. To his credit, the cheapskate asked what he could bring. Mary told him 'bring something to drink and eat'.

He and his wife showed up with 2 wine coolers and a bottle of ketchup.

This story remains a running joke with the 4 of us, and the next time Mary invited us over, we brought one of those little packets of ketchup as a joke.  (along with all the other stuff). (I am not a cheapskate) (or an idiot).

Over the past 15 years, this ketchup packet has been passed back and forth between us. At some point, I wrapped the damn thing, and it has stayed that way - wrapped in brown mulberry paper and ribbon ever since.

We don't just GIVE it to each other, we HIDE it during our visit. And the rule is that if it is discovered before departing, tough. You keep it until the next visit.

Sometimes it's planted in a purse, a coat pocket, it depends on the situation. One time I found it in our mailbox after they pulled away... On our last visit to their house, I hid it in their medicine cabinet. (I broke all my own rules on that one - I NEVER open someone's medicine cabinet) (but this was for the ketchup, so it was ok)

Mark and Mary came over Saturday night for dinner and fireworks. We knew we were getting the ketchup back. Half the fun is trying to figure out where it's going to be found... After they left I did a quick search in all the usual places (including MY medicine cabinet). Nothing. Mary must have gotten VERY creative this time. I didn't find it until the next morning, when, as I set up breakfast and reached for napkins... I found it. Under the top 2 napkins, ensuring that I wouldn't see it until morning.

Well played, Flannery. Well played.

Hoochie Mama...

You kind of have to be a Seinfeld fan to truly 'get' this. But it's still pretty funny.

Every day at 3:30 me and bsgirl (bsgirl and I?) have a cup of coffee. I always make it. We both like the Hazelnut coffee with some Cinnamon Bun creamer. There are other flavors in the boxes of Keurig pods, but that's our fav.

Now, that said - Sonia has her own box of pods - Butter Toffee. Nobody touches them. She pays for them herself, and they are HERS. And trust me - you don't want the wrath of Sonia upon you.

Apparently bsgirl was unaware of that fact. Yesterday she made her own cup because I didn't want any. She'd watched me enough times to know what to do. As she walked back to her desk with her steaming cup of goodness, I noticed that it smelled more like something Sonia would make... and said "Which coffee did you use?"

"I don't know - I just pulled one of those pod things out. It's really good, sure you don't want some?"

I guess she saw my eyes widen... which made HER eyes widen...

"What? What's the matter? What did I do?"

"You used Sonia's coffee. That's her coffee. Nobody touches her coffee."

"Shit. What should I do? Maybe she won't notice."

"If she comes out here, she'll smell it. Last week Beth took one, and 10 minutes later Sonia went into the breakroom and said 'WHO took one of my coffee's?' I think she counts them."

At that, bsgirl jumped up and said "I'm going to put one of the other flavors in her box so that she won't see one is gone. Give me a high sign if she comes through here. COVER me."

Ten seconds later I see Sonia walking toward the breakroom.

And what do I call out? "HOOCHIE MAMA. HOOCHIE MAMA!!!!"

And my Seinfeld loving buddy bsgirl came barreling out of the breakroom, slid into her chair and made believe she hadn't just committed the crime of the century.

As of right now, over 24 hours later, her scheme has not been uncovered. But should I get questioned tomorrow when bsgirl isn't in, I WILL throw her under the bus.

Because Sonia has her ways of getting even. And I'm gonna be on HER side when it happens.

What are the chances?

A more serious post this time, in fact, serious enough that I wasn't sure which blog to post this to, here or My Brave Soul... Obviously Faded Rainbows won.

Those of you that know me well, know that I do not believe in coincidence. I believe that a Higher Power is orchestrating everything - and when a 'coincidence' occurs, it's more like a GodWink. Things tend to happen when you need them to.

I've felt a little off for the past week or so - not working a good program, ignoring signs, just not 100%... a little stressed out, worrying about a sponsee, confused and scattered about my professional future and the future of my art, feeling a bit overwhelmed... (which is just when I need a strong program the MOST.)

Today after my meeting I was standing outside saying goodbye to some great people, and we got on a couple of different subjects - my smile being one, and road rage being the other. There is a person in the program that insists my smile can get me out of any situation. LOL And they have a hard time believing that my smile can hide a lot of pain and sadness...

Then we switched over to road rage and how we deal with a slowpoke in front of us. Various finger gestures were mentioned, and then I told them how I felt about a slowpoke. I truly believe that this person was put in front of me for a reason - to slow me down. Obviously, (to me) I have been slowed down in order to experience something - or NOT experience something (like a crash!!).

I dropped my sponsee off, and pondered my life - all the things that I don't have any control over (the CRUX of the problem LOL) and the things I DO have a say in... and then of course got all weepy and pitiful.

Stopped at the A&P to pick up my prescription, and as I walked out a man behind me said "Pretty hair." Not sure he was talking to me, after all I was windblown and hadn't had a brush in my hand in the last 6 hours, I turned around to look at him. About my age, he smiled at me and I said "Thank you so much!" and smiled back at him. As we walked out to the parking lot he said "I always say it's a good day when I can make someone smile."

As tears filled my eyes, I smiled again and said "well, you sure did that."

He said "someone wrote in my highschool yearbook that my strength is that I can always make a person smile."

I said "And look, you're STILL doing that."

And he stopped dead in his tracks like he didn't think of that - and he said "Wow - I am, aren't I? I'm still doing that."

And we parted ways after wishing each other a good day...

Which all boils down to the chance meeting - had I been 10 seconds later or earlier our paths wouldn't have crossed - I wouldn't have gotten a sweet compliment that made me smile, making the compliment giver smile, and a brief exchange of words that made us BOTH happier.

Coincidence? I think not.

Factoids.

Love that word. Factoid. Almost sounds naughty. Actually, reminds me of the word hemorrhoid, which makes me do the :evil6: face.

Little known tigger factoid #1:

I can Irish Step Dance. There is actually video of this on the Dawg somewhere. I took lessons when I was 10... and I know 2 different dances.

Little known tigger factoid #2:

Lentils tried to kill me. No lie... First time I ever had lentils - I made this incredibly complicated soup that hb found in a magazine... Now, FIRST of all, lentils taste like mud. SECOND of all, they gave me the worst and first acid reflux attack in my life. To the point that I woke up hb at 1am figuring he needed to call 911. I hate lentils, and a lentil will never cross my lips again.

Little known tigger factoid #3:

When I was a young child, I appeared at the top of the stairs... in front of a houseful of people... stark nekkid with sneakers on and a tennis racket in my hand and announced "Anyone for TENTIS?" My brothers can vouch for this. And yes, I said TENTIS. Not tennis.

Little known tigger factoid #4, 5, 6, 7 & 8:

ok - so not so little known. Ok - FINE. EVERYBODY knows these. I will not make left turns. I will not eat, look at or say 'b****e pasta'. I will scream bloody murder if a moth lands on me, or within 10' of me. Clowns should not be allowed to walk this earth. Dolls with eyes that open and close should be buried in a landfill never to be heard from again.

Little known tigger factoid #9:

I have to put my left sock or left shoe on first. If I force myself to do my right one first, I will start to twitch and take it back off again so that I can start with the left side.

Little known, and last, tigger factoid #10:

I can't clap to a beat. I will go into panic mode if asked to do this. You've seen Elaine on Seinfeld dance? That's how I clap to a beat.

And just for the hell of it - a short explanation of some of the things I say:

Spanks instead of thanks. I picked this up years ago from Amber. I can't stop. You can't make me.

Ascared instead of scared or afraid. I picked this up from Chip many years ago, and now it's just second nature. People look at me funny when I say it, but I don't care.

Dammit. The best curse word ever and ever amen.

HB. Many of you think that stands for hubby. LOL It doesn't. Message board lingo would be DH. For Dear Husband, or DICK HEAD, whichever applies. HB stands for Hawt Bobby. The Cell nicknamed him that after the first beach crop... so all of you that refer to him as HB? Yeah. You're calling him HAWT.

Which brings me to...

Cell. The cell is Me, Donna, Schnauz and Barb. Many years ago we decided that the four of us together equaled one brain cell. (which isn't a good thing)

Nekkid. Another Chipism.

Nekkid banana dance. That one is pure message board - the dancing banana emoticon. I always banana dance when I'm happy, and when I'm REALLY happy, I do it nekkid. That's when you'll get ":banana: <----- Nekkid"

And finally, last but not least... (and if you've read THIS MUCH - you need to get a life) what you'll find inside my pocketbook:

wallet, check stubs from the past 2 months, old coupons from Michaels and Sally's, 3 pens, reading glasses, a little Big Book, saline solution, a razor blade disguised as a lipstick, cough drops and gum wrappers, sunglasses, cell phone charger, hair clips, gum, business cards, keys (2 sets), makeup, cell phone.

:) Enjoy your day.

honest.

I know sometimes you guys must shake your heads and think "she makes that sh!t up".

I was getting a cleaning today. I'm lying there getting scraped, looking at the ceiling... and I see a freaking STINK BUG walking around. Linda and I had a good giggle about it, and a few minutes went by.

I watched the bug strolling all around. Above me. As I lay there with my MOUTH OPEN.

Now, you might think I'm about to say 'the bug fell in my mouth'.

No, no.... better than that.

I watched as something dropped OUT OF HIS BUTT, and in slow motion... came right towards my head. Linda saw my eyes rip open, stopped what she was doing and at that moment the offending piece of poop fell on her leg, just mere inches from my head.

I sh!t you not.

I'm... REFORMED?

I had to share a cute story - this happened last night at an annual Christmas Party that we attend.

This is a large party - probably over 50 people - and it's hosted by close friends at their gorgeous home. We know about a quarter of the people outside our little crew of 4 to 5 couples.

So we're sitting in the living room, and there are a few people in the room that we don't know personally. One of those people, a man about my age, is drinking a large can of some type of specialty soda.

My friend Stan, (Mary Kay's hubby) leans over to me and softly asks...

"Is he one of your kind?"

"My KIND?"

"Yeah - you know... REFORMED."

"I'm REFORMED?"

"Reformed. Or whatever you call it."

"RECOVERING??"

"That's it."

"I don't know, why do you ask? Do you think we all know each other?"

"Well, he's been knocking back those tall weird sodas all night. I figure he's got SOME kind of issues."

"Well, when you're right, you're right, but no, I don't know him."

Can't blame it on autocorrect...

So, I've talked about these patients before - the couple that talks and talks and talks and never leaves? Well, they were in this afternoon. The Mr. was in a treatment room, the Mrs. was out in the reception area.

Part One:

bsgirl bumps the back of my chair.

"Mrs K is playing with herself."

me: WTH?

I look and sure enough, there she is with her pants pulled out, her hand WAY down her pants... I stared for a moment not believing it, but then realized she was just tucking in her shirt. A lot. There was a LOT of tucking going on.

Bsgirl and I giggled a bit.

Part Two:

30 minutes later we hear from the reception room:

"aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh....ooooohhhhhhhhhhh"

And I hear bsgirl chortling. (SUCH a good word)

The chortle quickly becomes a snort and more chortles... and she tells me "DON'T turn around."

Which makes me immediately turn around... and I see her typing an IM to me. So I wait...

I wish I could do a photo upload... but I erased it too quickly... this was what it went like...

BSGIRL: Was that a delayed organism?

ME: Do you mean Orgasm??????????

BSGIRL: OMG

And that was the end of us for the rest of today. We had to leave the room... tears coming down... dissolving in giggles...

It took them almost 30 minutes to check out - it was at least 10 just to put coats on - (this is not because they are infirm in any way - they won't stop TALKING) and just a moment ago the phone rang... it was the Mrs.

She forgot her coat.

The Farting Monkeys.

Ahhhh... finally, a few minutes to sit and write the Farting Monkey story. I'm supposed to be creating, but I'm waiting for a whole lotta spackle to dry, and I'm trying not to touch it. SO I'll type instead.

The story really starts with Chip... if you don't know who he is - read this.

The County College Of Morris used to hold a huge garage sale in one of its parking lots. Chip and Judy used to take a space and sell off their stuff every year. We would go to the sale, and hang with them and walk around, and have fun... and find treasures. As Bob and I walked around, we found... The Farting Monkeys. We knew the moment we saw them that they would be perfect for Chip. We delighted in giving each other very ODD gifts.

We gave the man a quarter, and hightailed it back to Chip & Judy's spot.

"Look what we bought you!!!"

"What the F*CK are they???"

"Farting monkeys!!!!"

"Oh COOL."

He pressed the button and farts abounded. He chortled and snickered and giggled.

Judy was HORRIFIED.

"You're not bringing them into the house."

"Oh yes I am, try and stop me."

The look Judy gave us would have stopped a clock... had there been a clock handy.

Rarely a day went by without hearing the Farting Monkeys on our answering machine. Chip would call while we were at work, set them off and all you could hear was him laughing in the background.

Then you'd hear Judy say "Turn those F*CKING THINGS OFF".

And then the world changed, and the Farting Monkeys were silenced... until...

the first County College garage sale after his death... and Judy, knowing Bob's addiction to collecting coolers, said "Here Bobby - I found this cooler and I want you to have it..."

I saw a LOOK in her eyes... and it was like slow motion - I turned to grab the cooler, all the while saying "Noooooooooooooooooooo....." but it was too late.

Bob accepted the cooler, opened it... and guess what was inside?

"They're YOURS now...." Judy grinned evilly.

So we ran home and called her answering machine. And left her a Farting Monkey message....

I love these damn Monkeys.

Say again?

Or... my adventures in lip waxing.

Yeah - I'll come right out and admit it - I get my upper lip waxed. And a little on my chin too. Honestly - there's not too many women in their 50's that DON'T have a little 'stache action going on.

Luckily enough, my friend and neighbor Hoopy is a hairdresser. She's been doing my hair for umpteen thousand years, and also waxes me whenever I'm feeling furry.

She says she'll do my legs if I want her to, but she draws the line at a Brazilian. (I think she's a party pooper.)

The best part about colder weather is that hoopy's fingers tend to get very cold, and after she rips half my face off she quickly presses her fingers against my skin. This feels amazingly wonderful.

In the summertime it's nowhere NEAR as wonderful. Warm fingers pressed up against ouchy skin just doesn't cut it.

Well, today was cool... and hoopy was excited to show me that her fingers were cold. I did a little banana dance in my chair.

And the waxing commences... and my upper lip becomes nice and smooth. She presses her cold finger against my lip and says...

Ready? Wait for it...

"I'm saving my coldest finger for down there."

I RIPPED my eyes open to see where she was pointing...

It was my chin.

I thought perhaps that she was FINALLY going to do that Brazilian...

Beach Crop 2011

Another incredible long weekend with my girls... there is truly nothing like a girlfriend. Especially ones that you love and trust with all your heart.

I shared at a meeting the other night that this crop was the best EVAH, because it was my first sober/AA crop. Two years ago I was newly sober, but not in the program. I was insane. I was craving... I was miserable... One year ago we didn't have the crop... so this year was a new beginning for me.

A few years back, toward the end of the weekend, we lined up all the empty booze bottles along the dune. It was a long line... because those crops were excuses to drink freely, heavily, and at all times of day or night. I was never sloshed - but I was always buzzed.

This year a different type of bottle was lined up...



I remember every moment of this crop - all the talking, the laughter, the tears... the therapy sessions... the serene moments early in the morning when I sat with my coffee as the sun rose... and I discussed the day to come with my Higher Power...

Here are some photos from the weekend - enjoy... and thanks for reading!

sometimes i even surprise myself...

with the things that happen to me.

I was walking at the park, as is my norm, minding my own business. It's a Sunday morning, it's warm... the sun has peeked out and I'm enjoying communing with nature. Nature being my iPod, my lime green tank top, about 4,392 people (which included 4,134 cheerleaders of all different ages) a few dogs and some mosquitoes.

Football is in full swing, and I round the curve toward one of the fields. It's at this point that I have to dodge all 4,134 cheerleaders, who have decided to congregate ON the walking path instead of beside it. My apologies to the '75 RHS cheerleaders that I possibly may be friends with now (thank you fb), but why do cheerleaders think they are something special? I actually felt like I was that shy, gawky 16 year old again... but that's another post for another day. I digress.

Just as I get next to the playing field, just as I am MID stride, one foot raised in the air, one arm swinging one way, one the other way... JUST at that moment, the announcer screams on the PA system (well, ok, maybe he didn't scream, but it was LOUD) that little so and so made a touchdown... and it caught me so off guard that I hopped on one foot for a yard or two. Arms akimbo, leg in the air... I looked just like... The Karate Kid. And all 4,134 cheerleaders snickered. I know they did.

I'm sorry, can you repeat that?

So... I couldn't even find a picture to go along with this post - because if I google any of the key words here, only p0rn sites come up.

Here's how it went down. Yesterday we went over to our friend's house for a cookout. Mary is also a patient at my office. I've known Mary for 25 years. Good friend. She married into our 'friend family'.

Well, the last time Mary was in, a couple of weeks ago, I wasn't there. I left early that day. Apparently Mary is having a tooth issue and needs to see a specialist. But hadn't called yet... so when I saw her yesterday I noticed that her jaw was swollen. She admitted that she was in some discomfort and had to take Aleve... but I told her she needed an antibiotic because she was swollen. She didn't want me to bother the boss, but this required intervention!!

So I texted my boss, and here is the volley of texts as it happened:

me: hey, at *****'s house, her LL jaw swollen, needs to call o/s tomorrow, antibiotic?

boss: yes what is pharmacy #, any allergies?

me: 973 555 0101 no allergies

boss: all done

me: thank you SO much

boss: that was an easy one

me: did you have a hard one?

boss: EXCUSE ME????????????????

me: OMG bwhahahaha please forget i said that

I may NEVER live this one down. I almost don't want to go into work tomorrow.

and sometimes...

it's bsgirl that 'these things' happen to.


We have patients, an elderly couple, that live in the retirement community next door to our complex. They are THE most annoying people on earth. Now, before you get on my case about being mean - seriously - if you were alone in a room with them for more than 5 minutes you would look around for an escape hatch.

They talk NON-stop AT you. And they ramble about all different things - and none of it applies to what you're trying to talk to them about. They talk NON-stop AT each other. And neither answers.

They were in last week. As the Mr. half was checking out, and rambling on and on and on... AT me... I im'd bsgirl behind me "HELP".

Now, normally when we need to get each other out of this type of situation, the one not occupied will go into the doctor's office and call the office from the second line. The occupied party will have to answer the phone, and that USUALLY makes the offending occupier hit the road. We make believe we have an emergency patient on the line.

Well, after I im'd bsgirl, she picked up the phone at HER desk. Which is 3' behind MY desk. And instead of dialing the office line, she just made believe she was placing an order for paper towels for the office.

Here's how it went:

"Hello, this is Inga at Dr. VV's office. I need to place an order."

"obvious silence on the other end"

"Oh, wait, let me ask Sandi"

Bsgirl leans towards me and says "How many cases should we order?"

at this point, the offending occupier is starting to move toward the door, but is still within 5' of me.

"Well, let me see. Ask them how much per carton, please."

"How much is it per carton?"

"Oh, $43.59? Let me tell Sandi."

Before I could open my mouth to respond to her, what do I hear? What does EVERYONE in the vicinity hear????

Yep. That annoying loud beep beep beep of a phone being off hook for too long.

I bolted for the back room.

Bsgirl sat glued to her desk with the beeping phone still to her ear, her eyes about as big as saucers.

It was truly priceless.

This room is freaking ugly....

SO... I did it again. This time I had a witness to it. Donna was right there, and heard every word.

The backstory:

We are leaving Brave Girls Camp, and heading back to Boise (btw, did you know it's pronounced 'BOY-SEE', not 'BOY-ZEE'?) and we hitched a ride from Eagle with Shelley, one of our Brave Girl cohorts. Shelley, Donna and I had lunch together and then she dropped us off at our motel near the airport.

Near the airport was kind of misleading. AT the airport was more like it. LOL But in it's defense, we didn't hear ANY plane traffic at all. Surprising. Now, let it be said that I chose the cheapest motel I could find for that night. And the Sleep-Inn didn't disappoint.

Keep in mind now, because it's part of the story, that NOBODY knew where we were staying except my husband, Donna's husband, and Shelley. The hubbies had our cell phone #'s... Shelley didn't.

Donna and I walk into the Sleep-Inn. Cute young girl behind the counter. All of about 22 years old. Fresh faced and smiling.

"Welcome to the Sleep-Inn!" she chirped.

She really did chirp. Seriously.

We checked in, got the room key and she directed us to the second floor... which could only be accessed by the two story staircase behind us.

"No elevator?" I said.

"No, sorry." she chirped again.

Donna and I looked at each other, shrugged and proceeded to hump our overpacked suitcases up the stairs.

This took about 10 minutes, and we were hot, schwetty messes by the time we reached room 208. Of course I was complaining all the way. And honestly, NO ELEVATOR????

After about 5 minutes, the motel room phone rang. Donna and I looked at each other like WTH? Only Shelley knew where we were... so I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi ladies, just wanted to make sure you got settled ok, how's the room?"

(Donna whispers 'who is it?', and I say 'Shelley'.)

"Well, let me tell you - it's pretty freaking ugly, it has a funky smell and we had to hump our suitcases up 2 flights of stairs because there's no freaking elevator."

Stunned silence on the other end.

"Yes... I'm so sorry about that. And I'm sorry about the smell, too".

At that moment my stomach dropped and I realized it wasn't Shelley. It was the chirpy girl at the front desk. I'd never had the front desk call the room before to ask if we were ok. I mean, we stayed at the freaking HILTON on the way IN, and THEY didn't call.

"It's fine, really, fine, no problems" I said and hung up.

I flung myself on Donna and cried with laughter.

"It wasn't Shelley."

The two of us laughed and snorted ourselves sick. I knew I had to apologize to this young girl, so we ran downstairs. Miss Chirpy was busy checking in a family, so we waited.

I'm guessing we weren't too obvious, standing behind the pole, still crying with laughter.

Finally I approached the desk.

The girl looked at me with fear. I guess she thought I was going to say 'freaking' to her one more time.

"I am SO sorry. I thought you were my girlfriend, Shelley. I never would have said that to you - the room is fine, honestly."

"It's ok. Good thing I have a good sense of humor though..." she said quietly.

All evidence of chirpiness was GONE. I destroyed this girl's afternoon.

I am officially a mean girl, and didn't even know it. The fact that we're still laughing about this proves it.

These things ONLY happen to me.

Bogart.

My friend Amy's post on facebook yesterday reminded me of a funny story. So of course, I must share it with all of you.

Many years back, we had hermit crabs. Two of them. Bogart and Bacall. (yes - I am a Bogie fan) They lived in an aquarium in my kitchen. Easy pets... they ate Gainesburgers.

Well, Bogie had a wanderlust... and we'd find him outside the aquarium occasionally. He'd stretch REALLY big to the top lip of the aquarium, and launch himself out.

We'd hear him clicking around the top edge of the bowl, and knew he was out for an evening stroll. Then we'd place him back inside... (he was probably cursing us out BIG TIME)

One night I got up around 2am to pee. (aren't you glad I told you that?) I sat down on the toilet, MOSTLY still asleep, looked down and guess who was staring up at me?



All I can say is that it was a good thing I was already sitting on the toilet.

I come by it naturally...

I shared this story with a facebook friend the other day, and forgot how funny it was...

This happened about 25 years ago. My mom was living in Lake Hopatcong at that time, I was in Mt Olive.

My mother was a character. In fact, character is too light of a word. She was funny, naughty, sharp and loving. And 25 years ago, liked to knock back the drinks...

So on with the story. It was a Saturday morning. The phone rang and it was my mother. The conversation went something along these lines:

"Sandi, something happened."

"What, Ma?"

"I think someone broke into my house last night."

"OMG - are you ok?????"

"Yes. I'm fine. But I'm very frightened."

"Did you call the police? Is anything missing?"

"No. Nothing is missing. But they left a NOTE."

"Holy crap - what does it say???"

"I don't know. I can't read it - it's just dirty words and scribbles - it's very strange and frightening."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes. Can you come? I want to show it to you, maybe you can figure out what they were trying to say to me. Say, you don't think it was ALIENS, do you???"

"No, Ma. I don't think it was aliens. Let me jump in the shower and we'll come over in a little while."

"Ok - I'm locking all my doors, just knock when you get here."

SOOOOOO I showered and got ready to go and just as I was leaving the phone rang.

"Sandi? You don't need to come. I figured out what the note was."

"Really? What?"

"I heard a dirty joke on tv last night and I thought it was so funny that I jotted down some words so I'd remember it."


This is what happens when you get very, very tipsy, watch tv and write yourself notes. Don't do that.

Uvula. It's a funny word...

Ok - look at the picture. See the Uvula? It's the punching bag in the back of your throat. Yes, it's a funny word.

A little backstory: I have the ability to open my throat. Really WIDE. (I can hear everyone snickering now) (BEHAVE). My boss cracks up everytime I'm in the chair - you can literally look down my throat without touching anything in my mouth.

I'm a multi-talented tigger.

So the other day I was having a tooth issue. There I was, in the dental chair, patients in the other treatment rooms... and bsgirl (who LOVES to make up her own words for things and people) YELLS from the front desk...

Ready?

"DOCTOR - MAKE SURE YOU CHECK HER VULVA WHILE YOU'RE IN THERE!!"

I sh*t you not. The entire office erupted in laughter. Welcome to my world.

Lessons...

I had to work this past Saturday. As you know, this didn't make me happy. I wanted to be in my studio... playing with paper and ink and mod podge... yet here I was, dressed in my scrubs, standing in my office holding a clear plastic garbage bag in front of a patient while he puked.

You would think that would have just put me over the edge... but it didn't. Yes, it was kinda gross - but you know I'm all about gross. What it did was embed even further that kindness and compassion go further, and make you feel better, than anger and resentment.

My patient, Matt, is a high functioning Downs Syndrome man. He's 28. He holds a job, and drives a car. He frosts and spikes his hair. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He looks at you with all the honestness and earnestness that a human can have.

He was so ascared of having two fillings done. I sat him in the treatment room and I saw the tears roll down his cheeks. I patted his back as I put the bib on, and tried to reassure him that he would do just fine... but as brave as he tried to be, he failed.

The sobs started to come... and it took some time to calm him down. I sat in the treatment room next to him as he told me about his bad week. He hit a deer, his boss yelled at him because he did something wrong... and now "THIS". It was just all too much for this innocent boy...

All of a sudden he looked at me and said "I'm not feeling too well, I think I have to gag."

I'm usually NOT the one you want around in a panic situation. I tend to go sit in a corner and hide.

But something was guiding me... I quickly removed the Nitrous mask and sat him up... grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on - the clear plastic garbage bag. And I held that bag while he got sick... over and over again. And in between heaves he would cry and apologize... And I rubbed his arm and softly told him that he was going to be fine, and that it was ok...

I actually amazed myself. Didn't think I had that in me...

Of course, when he was better, and I left the room to dispose of the bag, I collapsed in the back room and shook. After-shock...

Matt was sent out to a dental office that could meet his special needs... and he's going to be just fine. I'll miss him. He touched my heart... and my life.

Um. Help?

So, I don’t know if this will translate well. It might be one of those ‘you really had to be there’ moments.

My friend Linda gave me a beautiful silver necklace. I wear it every day. Last night, I was SO dead tired as I was getting ready for bed, that I decided to get lazy and see if the necklace would pull over my head instead of unclasping it.

Voila. It worked.

Pleased as punch, this morning I decided to pull the necklace ON without unclasping it. (Remember, I am the epitome of lazy) (also – just so you know, bsgirl pronounces epitome as Epi Tome (rhymes with Rome))

Well, I had hot rollers in my hair, and the necklace got stuck over the roller on my left side, and UNDER the roller on my right side, and was pulled completely across my eyelids. I was stuck. With my eyes closed. Well, I couldn’t OPEN them, the necklace was pulled so tightly against my lids that I had no choice.

And there I stood.

I’d only had one cup of coffee, so the brain cells weren’t completely firing. Took me a moment to realize the only way to get the necklace off was to unclasp it. That was one hell of a long moment...

Fear...

Lump. Lump. LUMP. LUMP.

Of course, the doctor didn't even have to SAY the word 'lump'... the longest 30 seconds of my life were spent with her fingers massaging one single spot on my left tata. I knew when she didn't just move along like she usually does, that the next words out of her mouth were words I was NOT going to want to hear.

And sure enough... I was right. "I'm feeling something right HERE", she said. And she grabbed my fingers and put them where she was pressing.

"I don't feel anything".

"Here. Right HERE".

"I still don't feel it".

That's almost as ascary as feeling it. WHY couldn't I feel it???? Who knows...

And the rest of my nice, calm, happy doctor visit was not so nice, calm or happy.

The doctor said "it's probably NOTHING, but I want you to have it checked out, and don't wait." Those of you that know me, know that this was equal to telling me "you have cancer and you're going to die within the month".

I called the moment I got home and made the appointment for another mammo and ultrasound for today, Monday. And I then spent 72 hours worrying. Even though logically I knew that it was PROBABLY nothing, most breast lumps are benign things... this was ME. I'm a worrier... to the n'th degree. Once you've had one cancer diagnosis, you always think you're getting another one. Even though it will be 20 years for me in May, it's ALWAYS in the back of my mind.

I'm not one to keep stuff like this to myself, so within moments of leaving the doctor's office on Friday I had texted a few people... and the phone calls and texts started rolling in... I went home and got on my boards and filled in the friends that I hadn't texted or talked to. I was in close contact with my sponsor - and although I know she was worried, I was never in danger of taking a drink. But her support was invaluable. As usual. ;-)

I spent the weekend in my studio - creating stuff. That was the only time my mind didn't work overtime. Hb was good about it - he left me to my own devices, and just offered support when I needed it.

And then FINALLY Monday came. And I went for the follow up Mammo (my last one was just 5 months ago) and down to Morristown for an Ultrasound.

The Mammo girl couldn't find the lump. The U/S girl couldn't find the lump. I couldn't find the lump. We knew about where it was, 4:00, according to my doctor, but we couldn't feel it.

The U/S tech rubbed and rubbed with the U/S thingy (that's my technical name for it) and I watched the screen intently.

"do you see anything?"

"Nope... everything LOOKS normal."

My heart sank. This was not what I wanted to hear - if my doctor FELT something, something WAS there, and it was hiding itself from the rest of the world.

The radiologist came in. Nice doctor. He's been reading my mammo's for the past 16 years.

"Sandi - there is absolutely no change in your mammo from the last ones, and I don't see anything on the U/S, but let me take a look."

He rubbed my tata. (my tatas have had a LOT of attention lately) He zeroed in on it immediately - I guess you have to have an MD after your name in order to feel my lump. And he grabbed the U/S Thingy (again - techy term) and rubbed all over it.

"You're fine. Normal breast tissue". (He wasn't big on words, but the words he spoke were good ones)

I said "Normal. Just tissue. No cyst? No TOOMAH?"

"Nope. Normal."

I said "So... what IS it?"

"It's you. It's just YOU and the way you're made."

Ok. I can accept that.

Thanks to all that supported me and held me up with your prayers and good thoughts... those Dawg thoughts worked their magic once again.

My friends are my lifeline, I've said it time and time again, and I mean it everytime I say it.

And I never want to hear the word LUMP again.