Cancer just sucks.

"Take time with a wounded hand, 'cause it likes to heal" 

sang Scott Weiland of Stone Temple Pilots in 1992.  STP were known for their metal-leaning hard rock.  I wouldn't have called myself a fan, necessarily, but I didn't turn the radio off when their stuff came on, either.

That line, 'take time....to heal' is something that's on my mind.

I wrote a while back about my hairdresser, and his struggles with cancer.  A battle that he was losing, slowly.  The beast won the battle just a few days ago, and the wound of his passing is still very raw.  

He and I had been playing a merry-go-round game of 'cancel the appointment' for a few months.  He cancelled on me because he wasn't up to cutting hair.  I cancelled on him when I had a miserable head cold, and knowing his immune system was weakened, I didn't want to expose him to the germs.  He cancelled on me again a week or so later.  We'd been having a game of phone tag, where I left him a message, he'd leave me one, and we hadn't talked for about 2 or 3 weeks when I heard of his death.

The last message he left me (which I hope I will always be able to remember) went something like this: "Lucy, its C.  I'm sorry about not getting to you, but I'm just not having a very good time.  We'll get you in before you leave.  I'll talk to you soon."  I didn't call him back, worrying that if I did, he'd feel pressured to....hell, I don't know.  I wish I had called him, because I didn't really have a chance to say goodbye.  Not that I would have known I was talking to him for the last time.  He wasn't keen on a big emotional scene, anyway.

I didn't find out about his death until 3 or 4 days after it happened, and I was not surprised that he had passed, but saddened that I hadn't heard sooner.  As I had known would happen, the job of telling both of my sisters (they of the opposite coasts) and my mother of his death fell to me.  I did not make it through even one of those phone calls without breaking down and crying.  The hardest was my NYC sister.  She had not heard either, and it broke my heart to be the one to break the news to her.

You might be reading this and wondering why so much sturm und drang over the death of a hairdresser; but he was so much more than that to me.  Friend, artist, teacher, fellow liberal, collector of off-color jokes, a real character.

After that last phone message he left me, I called someone else I know that cuts hair and asked her if she could trim my hair for me.  I had been putting off doing that, knowing if he called me on a day that he felt up to it, and I was to show up with my hair pre-trimmed, his feelings would have been very hurt.  I put it off by trimming it myself around my face, to keep it out of my eyes, even though cutting your own hair is generally not a good idea unless you know what you're doing.  I don't.  But I figured me hacking at it would be less hurtful to him than actually seeing someone else.

Two days after I heard of his death, I had the appointment with the someone new.  DH told me that he was surprised that I had someone else do my hair so quickly after his death, but I'd had the appointment for more than a week, and I'm leaving in 9 days, so I went.

No one has cut or colored my hair besides C in 15 years.  No joke.  

I spent the entire appointment with the new hairdresser blinking back tears.  Every thing she did, everything she touched, brought back memories of conversations I'd had with C, every discussion about cut and color and dyes and products reminded me of something else he'd done.  I always liked the way that C washed my hair.  Don't ask, I can't describe why what he did was different than any other hairdresser, it just was.  He moved through 4 salons in those 15 years, and never varied at all the way he set up his station, laid out his scissors, washed hair, put the color in.  My hairstyle and color changed drastically, and clothing styles altered too, techniques for coloring and cutting hair went on a roller-coater ride from grunge to highly styled in that time, but the methodical way he worked through each client was consistent.

He had a gentle voice for someone as tall as he was, and a very slight tinge of his native Arkansas could be heard every now and then in his speech.

I was looking for something upbeat to put as my Facebook status that also was meaningful, something that my friends would know I was still thinking about him, and I found something by Thomas Campbell that seemed to fit, and I will leave you with it.  (n.b., I have no idea who the bloody 'ell Thomas Campbell is, but I like the sentiment.)

To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.

He touched the hearts of many.  I will miss him something dreadful.

Unanserable Questions

I'm in a mood today. Not a good one. More......like.....massively pissed off for no reason whatsoever. I found myself yelling at people on the freeway, irked beyond all measure at about a thousand other little things.

Being as medicated as I am, the little things like that don't usually bother me too much. If no one died today, then hey, it was a decent day, y'know? Everything else is a fixable situation. (More or less.)

So why is it that when I'm driving on the highway, I get stuck behind the idiot in the passing lane with their left turn signal going blink blink blink blink driving at 50 miles an hour, instead of the speed limit of 65? They're usually backing up traffic for at least 3 miles.

How come whenever I'm minding my own business, in a store or at a cafe, sitting by myself in an empty spot, some loon comes along and starts a conversation with me? Like in the movies when there's an empty bus, just one passenger, and someone else gets on and chooses to sit next to the only passenger, rather than any of the other 65 open seats. Do I have "talk to me if you're strange" tattooed on my forehead in invisible ink?

Why do men talk to my boobs?

Why is it the end of May and still bloody freezing here? I had to turn the furnace back on, ffs, because it was 58 in my house. Hello?

Why is it that our nearest and dearest know exactly which buttons to push to rile us up, and then why do they push those buttons?

Why do people get facial piercings? I saw two kids yesterday with their lips pierced at the corners of their mouths, each of them with 2 lip piercings. What the hell? Who is going to hire them? Is that a decision that you end up looking in the mirror at 45 and thinking, hmmm, maybe that doesn't look so hot? Imagine walking into a doctor's office, or an accounting firm, and having your CFP certified CPA introduced to you with an eyebrow ring, a nose ring and a lip ring? I'm guessing that unless you run a tattoo parlor, that look isn't going to inspire confidence in your tax professional. Or in your physician.

Why do people get up to give a speech and then say, "Before we begin, I'd like to....."? You've ALREADY started, jackass.

Why can't I knit faster? There are about 36 knitting projects I want to be working on, from this to this to this and this. I'm still searching for a shawl pattern that I will want to make over and over again, in different colors and textures. (Ed. note: good luck with that.)

Why do people say, "I don't want to be an asshole about this, but...." and then proceed to be assholes?

Why do I make so many things more difficult than they need to be?

Why do we call public toilets "restrooms"? I can't think of anyplace where I would want to rest in less than a public toilet. Ew.

Why do people think it is cute to intentionally misspell things, and name their businesses with those misspelled words? Word to the wise: It just makes ya look stupid. Kiddie Kollege. Kountry Kurls. Granny's Kountry Kitchen. Urgh.

I have an owie.

Several of them, really. This is what happens when you push yourself too far, too fast in the gym. My DAILY workout routine goes something like this:

35-45 minutes of cardio, lately a mix of elliptical and treadmill time, as I am trying to run without pain.

4 weight machines, 4 days a week. I work major muscle groups one at a time, so each day that I lift is either legs, shoulders/back, and biceps/triceps.

300 sit-ups. Every day is abs day.

20 minutes of stretching, which includes running through the entire sequence of Sun Salutation A (yoga poses) twice.

I do this six days a week. Add to it Pilates classes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, Core Yoga on Thursday mornings and Intermediate Yoga early on Saturday mornings.

I'm not going to whine at all about how the weight loss has slowed, even while I've ramped things up, adding the Core Yoga class only recently and increasing the weights on every machine that I use, as well as increasing my lean protein intake. Nope. Not going to whine at all.

Yesterday was a legs day. I'm trying hard to develop all the muscles in my legs so that the shin splints leave me the hell alone and I can run like I want to. I spent 25 minutes on the elliptical, 10 minutes on the treadmill plus a 5 minute cool-down, ran on the treadmill for about 7 of those minutes and then moved on to the adductor and abductor machines. The other two machines I wanted to use, the Glute/Ham machine and one that I don't know the name of and call "that swingy thing" were both occupied, so I went off to do sit-ups and when I came back, they were STILL being used by other people so I did 45 squats with a weight bar instead. All told, I was at the gym about two hours.

Later in the day, I returned for Pilates, and the instructor had us use the Pilates ring, a torture device of medieval proportions. And what did we use the ring to work? Our legs. I left the gym knowing that I'd had a good workout, but not hurting. I knew that would be later.

Sure enough, getting out of bed this morning was a slow process. My legs hurt. Especially those adductors. My abs hurt. My lower back aches a bit. Ow.

I've also had trouble getting out of bed this week because the depression is relapsing a bit. I'm still faithfully taking the meds every day, and yes, it is much, much better, but I have days that aren't so good, where I want to be in tears at the slightest provocation. Stupid things, like my reading glasses are missing. Or I broke a glass in the kitchen, an 'everyday' glass, not something special, and I was nearly hysterical over it. W.T.F. is that? (Seriously, dude.)

Yesterday I got up, got dressed for the gym and then sat on the couch for nearly two hours watching something on Sci-Fi. Because I just couldn't get moving. Today, after getting out of bed the first time and hurting so much, I went back to bed and pulled the covers up and slept for another two hours, deciding that this week, Wednesday will be my 'off' day from the gym instead of Sunday, because I hurt and I think all I'd be able to do at the gym is a slow walk on the treadmill. If I can't go all out, why bother?

The silver lining, perhaps, is that I'm able to write more and work on the book when I'm in such a state. I'm very worried that I need to be semi-unbalanced in order to write. Before I was getting treatment for the depression, I was writing prolifically, the novel was speeding along. When I got better, then I wasn't as interested in writing. Which depressed me. What a cycle.

Thank goodness I've got an appointment today to get my hair trimmed. The short style I'm wearing requires frequent upkeep. Who doesn't feel better after getting their hair done and being fussed over a little bit?

P.S. Fangirl nonsense about Supernatural Origins #4 will post later today over on MySpace.

News, and Not News.

I've been out of the loop on the cycle of news since both sisters were home. No NPR listening, very little web-surfing over the past week. It was OK at first, being out of touch with current events, too much else going on to care, but then I got antsy about it. I had this weird feeling, itchy almost, that something was missing.

I'm still not caught up on national and international news, and it isn't likely that I will by the end of this week either. The level of personal angst has shot up sky-high since both sisters left. I was handed a particularly bad piece of personal news yesterday, something that I can't yet share with the internets, and I will spend quite a bit of time over the next week or so dealing with the fallout. Once it is complete, I may share the entire sordid story, or I may not, but I'm fairly certain that even though it was a huge body-blow initially, it is more of an opportunity than anything else. I'm fairly sure that my mental health will improve by leaps and bounds once I'm past the introductory shock.

In other news, if ya know me IRL, the party's this weekend. Midsommar, doncha know. This is a Swedish holiday that I started to celebrate here in America the year that J died, when I realized that life is short. We all say, "we should get together more often" or "I'll call you and we'll have lunch" and then we never do. So I began celebrating Midsommar because I damn well want to. It is one of my favorite holidays. There will be some traditional Swedish food, and I've encouraged guests that if they want to bring something, they should bring their own favorite ethnic dish. So I'm sure it will be a bevy of interesting things. We start at 7 on Saturday.

Listening to: Podrunner

Beginning of the END

A severe blow was dealt to all women in the United States today when the Supreme Court handed down a 5-to-4 ruling, upholding the so-called partial birth abortion ban.

I TOLD YOU SO!

For many years now, this has been one of my greatest fears. That the door would be opened to the anti-choice folks, who are no doubt popping Champagne corks as I type. Any restriction on a woman's right to choose is too much restriction. Any ban on any type of abortion procedure is egregious. It is a slippery slope, which will end in the termination of YOUR right to end any unwanted pregnancy.

I'm not sure if abortion is "right" or "wrong", but what I do know is that I don't want a bunch of old, white men deciding for me if I am allowed to make decisions about my body.

Damn, Sandra Day O'Connor, couldn't you have waited to retire? Damn, Chief Justice Rehnquist, why did you have to die? Those two events were the catalysts that allowed today's decision to happen. President Idiot, who unsurprisingly, praised today's decision, appointed two conservative justices to replace the two who left, and you could hear the religious and fanatical right drooling when he did.

Supreme Court Justices are dangerous people, because they, more than any branch of the government, can have an impact on our lives for a very long time. Supreme Court Justices are appointed for LIFE. So to get a Supreme Court vacancy, someone has to die or retire, and the two vacancies that occurred in 2005 are remarkable for their rarity. Justices can, theoretically, sit for 40 years or more. They are the nine people who review laws passed by Congress, they are the arbiters of what is, and what is not, Constitutional.

In today's decision, the majority opined that the complete lack of any exception whatsoever in the ban for the sake of the mother's health does not preclude a woman's Constitutional right to an abortion. I'd like to know just how the fuck they got to that decision. Because to my understanding, even if a woman's life is at stake, this procedure cannot be performed under any circumstances.

Take note, American Woman. That's how important you are to this administration. That's how much you matter. Your life has that much meaning.

Don't you feel precious?

Dammit. And Fcuk.

I was supposed to travel to New York City today to visit my sister. My flight was canceled. So I called my sister and she suggested Amtrack. Which I checked, and sure enough, a train was leaving from Pittsburgh in about an hour, so I got in the car, drove most of the way to Pittsburgh before I figured out that I wasn't going to make it. A flurry of phone calls, and I found out that there was another stop nearby, and chances were good that I could make it to that stop, so I drove there.

And I missed the goddam train by about 20 seconds.

So more phone calls, to the airline, to DH, to thesister, and there was a flight later that I might be able to get. I made the decision to stay in the Pittsburgh area and have lunch with a friend. The airline had suggested that I call after noon. Dutifully, I did so, and no, I can't have a seat on the seat on the later flight. Why? All New York City regional airports are closed due to a massive snowstorm working its way up the east coast.

No trip to NYC for Lucy. Dammit.

Regularly scheduled posting interrupted....

I've caught whatever is going around...intestinal, sinus, and other related distresses, and won't be online until I feel better. DH had this for about a week.....ugh. I'm exhausted, and going back to bed.

NOT a good day...

Ever have one of those days where you KNOW within about an hour that ya just shouldn't have gotten out of bed? I am having one today. First, not to be too graphic or gross, but I was due to start the day out with my annual OB/GYN exam, which if you aren't a girl, you're not going to be able to empathize. My friend A says that those are her most dreaded days....I have to agree. A GYN exam just ain't the most pleasant thing out there, let me tell ya. So as usual, I'm running late when I get pulled over by a friendly police officer who explains to me that I was traveling 42 mph in a 20 mph zone. More than double the speed limit. Ouch. I got a ticket, which I do really deserve. I'm not upset, particularly, about that. What upsets me is that the whole adventure is probably going to cost me about $250, and O-hi-ia has this system of "points" on your license, usually 2 for a moving violation, and at 12 you lose your license for I think a year. Since I was in a school zone (I know, I know, what WAS I thinking?) the points will probably be doubled, and the fine too. I called the court, because the nice officer said that since I have a clean record, I could mail in the fine, and the court says no, all offenders picked up in a school zone are MANDATORY automatic court appearances. Shit! This just keeps getting better….wait, that’s not the end. I get to the doctor's office about 15 minutes late, sign myself in, sit down, pull out my knitting, and knit contentedly for about 15 minutes when they call me back up to the window and inform me that my appointment is in fact for MARCH 10th, not February 10th. Feel free to fall out of your chair laughing at this point, because it is pretty funny. And no, they wouldn’t take me just because I was already there.

The crappy crappy crappy thing about the fine is that DH and I just decided a couple of days ago to head to Croatia in the summer of 2007 and began to save for it, and the fine is money that could have gone to a fantastic vacation but will instead go to Uncle State of Ohio. That combined with our HUGE federal tax liability just makes me one happy citizen.

From there, the day couldn’t really GET much worse, so I got myself a chocolate coffee from ny favorite chocolate shop and got to work. Work was pretty uneventful, thankfully, and now I’m heading to the bar where my sister works to get a drink. No, I won’t be driving this evening, we’ll leave that up to Mr. "I Don’t have any points on MY license, ha, ha, ha" otherwise known as DH.