I am in possession of most of the old photographs and do-dads from our family history, and on occasion, I rummage through those items and take a stab at getting some of them scanned so we have a digital record that can be shared around the country. Most of the pictures I rummage through are multiple copies of old school photos, but every once in a while, I find something interesting.
The pen doesn’t work, it’s 44 years old. Apparently, this is the pen that the best man presented to my dad, the groom, “for use in signing his life away.” This cracks me up. I wonder if he had any idea that decades later we would still be in possession of this pen and the card to which it was taped.
The card says:
Compliments of the Lee Museum of Warped Art and Hysterical Do-Dads.
Left on ancient dining able, believed o be the “Official Pen” use in ancient wedding ceremony. Given traditionally (for the first time) to the Groom fo use in signing way his life by the Honorable Best Man. Hmph!
And here’s the best man, Pete Lee, with my Dad. Dad is on the right.
This is one of my favorite photos from my parents wedding – Dad looking at his ring. I wonder what he was thinking.
We are moving. We found a place we love in a neighborhood we love and two blocks from a school that seems like it will be perfect for Gem. We signed the lease a few days ago, and we move in a few weeks.
Now comes the hard part.
The new home we have chosen is small. Tiny. Less than 3/4 the size of our already small apartment. That means that rather than just packing up, every single item we own will have to be considered, judged, and a large portion of them will not be accompanying us in this move. Will the Christmas tree travel with us to our new home? If so, where will it live the other 11 months of the year? We have a total of 2.5 small closets with which to work.
This will be a learning curve.
I’ve been enjoying a number of posts on the tiny house movement; perhaps we could talk the landlord into allowing us to make some modifications to make better use of the space.
In the meantime, Gem is getting excited about the move.
Her jaguar is all packed up and ready to go.
She’s been helping with our packing, as well. If something is missing, there’s a good chance she already packed it for us.
28 women finding ways to squeeze the day, every day, while living with cancer and it’s after effects.
Every year we converge on this little retreat center in the woods, on the edge of the canal.
Every year we laugh, we cry, we eat, drink, and dance,
We challenge each other, we hold each other up.
And even more importantly, we rest, and we are cared for.
Every year I come back home feeling two inches taller.
P.S. This year, I brought a spare camera and handed it over to the group, asking them to take pictures as well. I’m so glad I did. I came home with pictures that were complete surprises to me, and this year, I was so engaged in just being present that I hardly took any pictures at all. Thanks so much to my friends for picking up the slack.
P.P.S. The link in the first line will take you to the poem I read at the retreat. It resonated so profoundly with so many of us, and I received many requests for copies. (I’m not affiliated with the writer of the poem, but when you write stuff this good, it deserves a link.)
I was one of 5 authors reading our work about living with breast cancer at Courage Night.
I was challenged to chronicle just one hour of my life for a blog post, and the results were magical.
I realized that I am still re-learning how to dream after cancer. “I’ve reached the point where I understand what I have been intuitively trying to do, yet simultaneously resisting – to improve the flexibility and range of my imagination, of my ability to re-dream my future.”
Two years after chemo, I finally got my hair back into a ponytail.
Every year, I run away with my girls from the Young Survival Coalition (young women with breast cancer) for a retreat at the Harmony Hill Retreat Center. It’s a slumber party for grownups, but even more important, for a moment, we’re in a place and group where life with cancer is normal, and everyone understands what we’re going through.
I wrote a piece for Survivorship Partners on Cancer and Guilt, when I noticed how much judgement there is around a cancer diagnosis. Nobody deserves cancer, not even me.
I traveled to Indianapolis to attend the Affiliate Summit for the Young Survival Coalition, and to participate in the process of changing much of the structure of that organization. The experience left me with a powerful lesson in change management.
My husband went to Istanbul to present his research at the International Society for Iranian Studies Conference. While he was there, he had a significant health crisis. I didn’t blog about that part, but it was more terrifying to me than my own cancer diagnosis. He’s healthy now, however, and he did manage to get a few great photographs of Istanbul while he was there.
We attended the cutest birthday party ever. Our cousin’s daughter’s 3rd birthday party had a dinosaur ballerina theme. Perfect, as Gem is into dinosaurs and ballerinas, as well. You really can’t go wrong with homemade dinosaur tails and tutus for each of the kids.
My husband and I celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary, and I reminded the universe that the sickness and poorer parts of our vows were not an invitation. I also challenged to universe to remember that there was a richer and health part in there as well.
In Taking Back October, I mourned the loss of one of my favorite months, October, to the Breast Cancer Awareness money making machine, and I discussed the difference between working towards awareness for the most well known cancer, and working towards a cure.
Plans for my second mastectomy and reconstruction surgery started in earnest. My surgery is scheduled for 2/4/13. Mom will be flying down from Alaska to take care of my little one.